Page 15 of Sorrow & Strangers

This time, when Farrah pulls back, I notice the twins watching us from the porch. Exhaustion lines their faces and shadows their eyes, but they still look better than Farrah and Uriel. I know it is because Farrah and Uriel have cared for their sons above all else, even through their own grief.

“She wanted to come home to see her mom and her brothers,” Uriel says, answering a question that no one asked. He looks at Zach and Zane. “Boys, will you set the table? Your sister is staying for a while.”

Zane nods and immediately heads inside, but Zach lingers. “She’ll need to go see him first. Or he won’t come down to dinner.”

I look at Farrah and Uriel, and I can see the weight of an added burden settle on them. There is only one person he could be talking about. “Rafe?” I ask, my voice shaky.

“He’s upstairs,” Zach replies before following his brother inside to set up.

Uriel wraps an arm around my shoulder, and Farrah slips hers around my waist, walking beside me back to the house. We step inside, and the scent of family surrounds me. It never smelled exactly like Morningstar House, but there were definite similarities, and somehow this house always felt so much more like home. The decor reminds me of Morningstar House, and I didn’t realize how much I ached for it.

“Will you talk to him?” Uriel asks. I glance at him, noting the weight of the grief piled on his shoulders. It is not all his own. He has absorbed all he can from his family, trying to ease their pain, and now he bears it willingly. I nod, because of course I will. Rafe and I are similar in a strange way, and I want to see him. I want to be in the presence of someone who also feels they don’t belong in this perfect family, yet is so loved by them anyway.

I look at the photographs lining the walls as I walk up the stairs. So many of them feature Connor, and my heart shatters every time I lock eyes with him. I miss him so completely, and I am desperate to feel close to him, to not miss him for even one second. But while I do feel closer to him here, I don’t think I’ve ever missed him more.

Chapter Ten

Summer

The upstairs landing is exactly as I remember it, and uncomfortably similar to the one at home. Connor’s room is in the same place, though instead of the poorly etched connor ingrained into the wood, there is a placard with his name expertly written out, matching the ones on his brothers’ doors. I walk to Rafe’s room but take a moment before knocking on the door.

“Fuck off,” I hear Rafe growl from inside, and it strangely makes me feel more normal.

Instead of knocking again, I open the door and slowly peek around his door. When Rafe’s eyes meet mine, he frowns and sits up in bed. “Summer?”

I step into his room before pushing the door closed behind me and leaning back against it. I’ve never been in Rafe’s room before, and I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. His walls are covered with posters of fighters, rock bands, and some very lifelike animated characters. The decor is dark and mysterious, yet the room is clean and somewhat organized.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, drawing my attention.

“Uriel came to see me,” I say, and I am happy that my voice sounds more normal. “He said Connor—” My voice breaks on his name, and I look away, having to work to hold back the tears.

I can feel Rafe’s dark gaze locked on me, and when I look back at him after a long moment of silence, I notice he’s moved over on the bed. He pats the now-vacant space next to him. Wordlessly I push off the door and cross the room to clamber onto his bed. It’s so comfortable, and I have no doubt Farrah chose the mattress to ensure it.

This close, I can see he’s more bruised and battered than usual. It doesn’t surprise me. More than a few times, I’ve considered allowing people to kick the shit out of me. It is so tempting to seek physical pain, to make it match the agony of my internal despair. Rafe shifts next to me and looks up at the ceiling. I follow suit, enjoying the natural ease between us. Two weeds in a bed of roses.

We sit in silence for a long moment before Rafe breaks it. “Everyone is being an idiot,” he begins. “Zach isn’t talking to Ashley, completely ghosted her. Zane is trying to train in the middle of the night. He wants to be the next Arch.” His voice is laced with anger and pain. “And Luke, he’s started training too.”

I can’t imagine kind, wonderful Luke with his healer’s heart, willingly causing anyone harm. I haven’t seen him yet, but I can clearly recall my last memory of him at the funeral. His eyes had been red and dull, his skin pale, grieving the loss of his big brother, his hero.

Rafe slams his fist into the mattress, making it shake a little. “So fucking stupid.” I turn my head to look at him and see a tear slide from the corner of his eye. It drops onto his pillow, and the sight of it is enough to summon my own tears.

“And he died. So. Fucking. Stupid.” His voice shakes with emotion, and it’s not just sadness. His anger is so apparent, and I wonder how he’s containing that kind of rage. I find myself a little jealous that he seems to have a steady fire burning inside him. It’s destroying him but also keeping him alive. I don’t have that. Mine is just a slow, sinking despair.

“I’m the one who doesn’t want to be here,” Rafe says, and the words slam into me. “And he is the one who died.”

I sob silently, listening as he voices his devastation. Sliding my hand over the mattress, I link my pinky with his.

“Fucking idiot.” Rafe exhales on a sharp, shaken sob.

So many truths are being thrown at me, truths I don’t know how to respond to other than to allow my own to tumble from my lips. “I thought you all hated me.”

Rafe glances at me, his eyes glimmering with some emotion I can’t decipher. “Don’t be an idiot too.”

I nod and look back at the ceiling. The silence creeps back in, disturbed only by our broken exhales and sobs.

“How are your mom and dad?” I ask after a while. Something felt off with them, aside from the fact that they have one less son. I’m not sure how I think they should be, but I still got a feeling, and Rafe didn’t mention them in his list.

“They aren’t . . . them,” he says. “They barely touch, barely even look at each other.”