But my body was betraying me-my legs were shaky, my chest tight.
The cold was already seeping into my bones, and the thought of standing on a curb waiting for a cab in this storm suddenly felt unbearable.
“Fine,” I muttered, brushing past him toward his car. “But if I even smell a reprimanding speech, I’m throwing myself out of the door.”
He chuckled. “Then you and Celeste can be roommates.”
I spun around and shot him a look, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut, his lips twitching from the effort.
I turned away before he could see me fight my own smile.
The interior smelled faintly of leather and something familiar. Maya, I realized with a grudging smile.
I slid into the passenger seat, dripping rain onto the floor mat. Ethan got in on his side, started the engine, and instantly turned up the heat.
“Here,” he said, handing me a thick sweatshirt from the backseat.
I took it gratefully and pulled it on, hugging my arms around myself.
For a while, the only sound was the swish of wipers cutting through the storm.
Then Ethan reached forward and fiddled with the knob of the stereo. Moments later, music filled the space, soft at first.
I frowned. It was…familiar.
The melody filled the car, soft and melancholy-echoing from some distant memory. Gentle guitar picking, a tender voice that had seemed to understand everything I couldn’t say aloud.
Not exactly what I’d choose now, but the kind of thing I used to play late at night, headphones clamped over my ears, letting the melodies carry away the restless hum of my own thoughts.
I glanced at him. “Really? You listen to Fleetwood Mac?”
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “I wasn’t sure what you liked anymore. listen to this. Thought it was worth a try.”
That stopped me. Paxton-our old butler.
Paxton mentioned you used to
He’d been one of the few constants in the Lockwood Manor, growing up. One of the few people who showed me kindness in the quiet, unnoticed small ways that mattered. Who didn’t treat me as less-than.
My throat tightened. “That was a long time ago.”
“I know.” Ethan’s hands tightened on the wheel. “After the…” He cleared his throat. “…cinnamon raspberry incident, I’ve been trying to remember things. Trying to see them differently.”
I gave a short, humorless laugh. “What’s this, some sudden bout of brotherly guilt? Or are you just hoping that if you play the right song, I’ll march back into that hospital room and apologize to Celeste?”
His head turned toward me briefly, his expression unreadable in the glow of the dashboard lights. “No,” he said, firmly. “That’s not it.”
I snorted. “Sure, okay.”
“I’m serious, Sera.” His voice had an edge now, not sharp but intense, like he needed me to hear him. “I’ve started to realize how many mistakes I made. How much I let myself be blinded. We’re brother and sister, and we’ve spent so many years acting otherwise. I don’t want to spend whatever time we have left resenting each other.”
Something in me twisted at the sincerity I thought I heard there. But I shoved it down. “So what, this is your redemption arc? Tell me you believe me now, and all is forgiven?”
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said. “I don’t even know if I deserve it. I just…” His jaw tightened, his gaze fixed firmly on the road.
“I know you-I know you think I don’t, but I do. And sure, lately you’ve changed. You’ve become reclusive, difficult, even sharp-edged, but you’ve never been cruel. You would never hurt someone on purpose.”
My eyes narrowed. “Do you hear yourself? If I’ve become sharp-edged and difficult, it’s because you all made me that way.”
He nodded. “I won’t argue that. But what I said stands. You would never hurt anyone, Sera. That isn’t you.”
The words made me want to look away, but I couldn’t. My chest hurt, like he was prying open a wound I’d buried under scar tissue.
“You really think that?” My voice was low, harsh. “That I’m incapable of cruelty? You literally just said I changed-you can’t tell up to what extent. You’d be surprised what someone can learn to stomach when they’re pushed far enough.”
Because here’s the deep, unnerving truth: If I’d been standing in front of Celeste at that moment, and I’d seen the car rushing down the street, I don’t know that I wouldn’t have pushed her.
I didn’t know what to do with that. you
He shook his head. “Not you. Some things don’t change, Sera. Not the core of who we are. I remember refusing to eat chicken for weeks because you saw one killed in the yard. You cried yourself sick over it.
That’s not someone who would shove her sister into the path of a car.”
The memory hit me like a sucker punch, vivid and embarrassing. My younger self, devastated over something so small.
I felt exposed, as if he’d reached in and dragged out a version of me I hadn’t allowed myself to remember in years.
“Maybe that girl’s gone,” I whispered.
“Maybe she’s not,” he said quietly.
Silence stretched. The wipers squeaked back and forth. My reflection in the rain-streaked window looked pale, tired, unrecognizable even to me.
Part of me still wanted to lash out, to accuse him of ulterior motives, to spit that I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for a change of heart this late in the game.
But another part-smaller, quieter-just felt tired. Too tired to keep sorting through the sincerity and the lies.
So I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes. “Whatever, Ethan. Believe what you want. Right now, I just want to get home.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said, and for once, he didn’t push further.
We drove the rest of the way in uneasy quiet, the storm softening to a drizzle outside, and I could almost imagine that it was a reflection of the ease in the atmosphere between us.
SERAPHINA’S POV
The first moments back in my apartment were…quiet. Almost shockingly so.
I glanced at the scattered grocery bags I’d hastily thrown inside before rushing off in the ambulance-there was a tub of ice cream in there that I knew was a goner.
It was hard to believe I was still in the same day that had promised to be peaceful and restful.
But at least now, I was free of the chaos. No judgements or accusations or pain.
Just me. Just the sound of the rain pattering faintly against the window, the scent of the lingering storm mingling with the faint warmth of home.
Ethan’s presence in the car lingered in my chest like a ghost I wasn’t sure I wanted to exorcise.
The ride home still confused me. He hadn’t lectured me. He hadn’t tried to twist my words or corner me.
He’d just…believed me.
For the first time in what felt like forever, my brother and I had shared a conflict-free moment together.
And in that, there was a thread of comfort, a small, glimmering hope that maybe, just maybe, not everyone I’d ever counted on was completely lost to me.
Oddly…Kieran too. He had stood by me today, his patience and defense quiet but firm.
I could still feel the echo of his presence as he stood between me and my mother, the warmth of his intervention like a shield.
But even with that, my chest felt heavy.
Sure, it seemed like my divorce had been some sort of wake-up call, and I was starting to see glimpses of the people I’d once called family. They were starting to act like they actually cared.
But the damage-the years of small betrayals, dismissals, slights, and outright cruelty-didn’t vanish in a single day.
That kind of pain lingered, settled into the muscles and bones, into the rhythm of my breath.
More than a decade of being treated as inferior, of being undervalued, didn’t dissolve with a few conciliatory gestures.
Too tired to shower, I simply stripped out of my wet clothes and pulled on an OTS sweatshirt and sweatpants.
I sank into my bed, hugging my legs to myself as the light rainfall from outside mixed with the residue of the storm still inside me.
I had to put all the confusing thoughts of Ethan and Kieran out of my mind. I’d been doing well without them so far I hadn’t needed them all this time, and I didn’t need them now.
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