The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,120
up, but if she’s anything like me, some days it feels like I’m watching myself smile, give speeches, interact with others—from this corner. Watching my body go through motions my soul isn’t ready for yet. Those days are fewer and farther between for me now, but if I lost Lennix, I would probably conduct the rest of my life from that dark corner.
“Millie’s in grief counseling,” Mom continues, flicking a glance between Dad and me. “Something you’d both benefit from.”
“I’ve been telling Maxim that,” Lennix says, shrugging when I look at her like she’s a sellout. “What? I have.”
“Well we’re flying to Connecticut to see Millie and the twins tomorrow night,” Mom says. “Where are David and Grim spending Christmas, Maxim?”
“David’s with his family, though he’s complaining about it, and Grim . . .” I shake my head. “I’m not sure. He just said he’d see us after Christmas.”
“And the two of you are still flying to Arizona tomorrow?” Mom asks.
An edge filters into the air as soon as my mother says Arizona. That state, that land, was the genesis of our journey. Not just mine and Nix’s, but of her feud with my father.
“Yes,” Lennix says. “My dad and stepmom are there.”
“Yeah, well, we still have the morning.” I stand, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Christmas breakfast at nine, Mom?”
“Um, yes,” she says, her voice pitching higher. She doesn’t want a fight tonight either.
Lennix sucks in a breath, stands, and, with my hand at her back, turns toward the hallway.
“Lennix,” Dad says, his voice commanding.
She goes still. So do I, tensed and ready to spring. She glances at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”
That single word hangs in the air, suspended in this fragile peace that one wrong move could shatter.
“I can’t very well take up the ones we’ve laid,” he says, his voice gruff and as close to apologetic as he’s probably capable of. “But . . . there won’t be any more Cade pipelines put on protected grounds.”
She turns then, at first blinking rapidly, her mouth hanging open the slightest bit. As the shock of his statement wears off, skepticism pinches the corners of her eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“You are. My son loves you. I love my son. I know I have a lot, but the older I get . . .” He touches Owen’s empty chair, releases a heavy sigh, “. . . the more I seem to lose. Priorities change.”
“I can appreciate that. I’m sorry about that,” Lennix says softly, fiercely, not looking away. “But you had no right. I know taking is in your nature, but just because you can take something, doesn’t mean you should. Doesn’t make it yours.”
Her outrage and indignation are arrows aimed for my father’s heart, the same way they were the day we all met. I instinctively wanted to protect her that day from the dogs, the rubber bullets, my father—I want to stand between her and whatever retaliation he might offer now.
But he doesn’t.
“I realize that. I’m sorry.” He clears his throat, and is nearly unrecognizable wearing remorse. “I know it’s not enough, but—”
“It’s a start,” she interrupts, nods. “A good one. Thank you.” She looks to my mother. “Dinner was delicious, Mrs. Cade. See you in the morning. Goodnight.”
I start after her, but she puts a staying hand on my arm. “I’m tired, but you don’t have to come right away. Spend a little time with your parents.”
I search her face. We’ll have to talk about this, but something in her expression, a pleading in her eyes, tells me she needs time alone more than I need time with my mom and dad.
“Okay.” I kiss her hair and cup her cheek. “See you in a bit.”
* * *
Lennix
It’s a night for ghosts.
At dinner, I felt Owen’s presence so strongly, I almost expected to hear his jovial laughter if someone told a joke. And when Warren Cade told me about the pipelines, I could almost feel Mama squeeze my hand, could imagine seeing something in her eyes that I rarely witnessed: satisfaction. She always said injustice never rested and neither would she.
“Rest, Mama,” I say, watching my reflection. “Tonight, you can rest.”
Defying my valiant efforts to remain composed, tears track down my face no matter how much I swipe them. I rushed from the dining room because I felt something break inside me at Warren’s words. A dam burst, and I knew once the water started, it wouldn’t stop.