own voice was missing the roots of my past, with no southern twang to declare who I was once and for all, Adam’s roots only made themselves known when he cursed.
Like he was doing now.
He wasn’t in the house; was on the phone. He’d been weird all day. Not only had he been late for training, he’d been harried and grouchy too.
We’d restarted doing what we’d done at the beginning—training and swimming together. I met him at the team pool and we got on with shit. We weren’t as close as before, how could we be? But it was enough. Just to have that link. To be a part of his days, even if it was only while we were in my favorite place—it had to be enough.
Of course, hearing his voice now was a reminder that it wasn’t.
That it was a lie I was telling myself.
But I shoved that aside. I didn’t need to think about that, not unless I wanted to start planning the many and varied ways that existed to kill harpies.
Were they like vampires? Needed silver and stakes? I was Roma, not Buffy, but what I wouldn’t do to see Maria pay for the way she treated people.
“You should have told me,” he ground out again, making me press back against the wall so Robert wouldn’t see me on the landing.
“If I’d known, I’d have told you.”
Robert and Anna shared an office space in the house. It was a massive room, probably the size of the Majors’ entire downstairs layout. So it surprised me to hear the way Adam was talking to his dad. Normally, when he started talking smack, that happened with his dealings with Anna. Not his dad. Robert didn’t take much shit. Well, Anna didn’t either, but Adam didn’t give it, to be fair.
Where his family was concerned, he was, I thought, a little too quick to roll over.
Which surprised me, because I knew how he was at school. Especially now that Cain was locked up.
The king.
He roamed the halls of Rosemore like he owned them, and I knew why—he didn’t give a fuck anymore.
Sure, he had goals like everyone else, but something had changed when he married Maria, and now I understood. I got it. I did.
Even if it saddened me.
I thought of him earlier, shooting the shit as he strolled into the cafeteria, two cronies of his at his back, had seen how every girl looked at him, how every guy wanted to be like him, and wondered how that had happened.
I mean, I’d been in school with him at the time.
I should have seen the evolution of his character. From the underdog twin, always in Cain’s shadow to, somehow, taking Cain’s place.
“You didn’t know Grandad was leaving me a trust fund?”
“No, I didn’t. How many damn times, Adam?” Robert groused. “If I’d known I’d—”
“What? Changed his mind?” Adam scoffed.
“Yeah, you know I would have. I don’t believe in giving you kids that kind of choice until you’re old enough to understand exactly what the fuck you’re going to be dealing with.”
“I know what I’m dealing with.”
“Bullshit,” he rasped. “I know you, Adam. I know you’ve never wanted college. I know the only reason you were going is because of the trust fund I set up for you. You’re a liar if you can’t tell me that, now, knowing this, you’ve changed your mind.”
My brows rose at that. Adam had never mentioned a trust fund to me. He’d only ever said that the only way he could get through college was if he earned himself a scholarship.
“You have to go to college,” Robert ground out.
“I don’t have to do shit anymore,” Adam retorted.
My brow puckered.
“What are you going to do? Waste it on parties?”
“You really don’t know me, do you?” he snapped. “I’m not Cain.”
Robert released a hissed out breath. “I know you’re not.”
“No, you don’t, not if you can accuse me of that.”
I peered through the door when I heard a heavy sigh, and saw Robert running a hand over his face. “Talk to me, son.”
“What’s there to say?”
“Plenty. You found out something that has changed your life. That’s a lot of money.”
“I didn’t get into Stanford.”
That revelation hit me and hurt me harder than it did Robert. “That’s a shame. I know you wanted to attend, but there are other options.”
“I got into Yale—”
“You did? That’s brilliant news!”
“No. It isn’t. I don’t want to go.”
Robert visibly cringed at his son’s words, and I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t sure