Page 209 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
He folded me into his arms and squeezed me into a bear hug, one he used to give me as a kid. Even when he'd known I didn't share the same blood.
“You think I send weekly unanswered postcards to just anyone? You’re my daughter, Emery Winthrop. Always have been. Always will be. We don’t need blood to bond us when we’ve got love.”
I found Emery on the beach.
The one with waters more polluted than the Styx, probably mutating her into one of the X-Men by the second.
She stood waist-deep in the ocean, fully dressed, staring at the dark sky. Waves crashed against her back, but she remained an immovable force. I'd never seen anything so fierce. She reminded me of the Charmaine Olivia painting displayed in the Prescott Hotel in Paris. A sea of chaos and colors consumed the canvas, but all I saw was the subject.
You may not need me, but fuck, I need you.
I was an asshole with an ethical code that occasionally dipped as low as a genocidal dictator’s. Someone had to reel me in.
An entire day had passed. Enough time for Gideon to explain everything in excruciating detail. Now I’d get my girl back. Simple.
Pulling out my phone, I responded to Emery through text.
Durga: Tell me your favorite thing in the world.
Nash: You and whatever brought me to you.
She slid her phone from her pocket. Her tongue peeked past her lips, fingers flying.
Emery: That’s two things. You never follow the rules.
“Fuck the rules.”
She glanced up at me and waded through the water, hungry eyes eating a path down my body. The waves pushed her back and forth with their current. Each step she took seemed like a battle with gravity.
We met somewhere in the middle, where the waves hit her knees but didn’t do much damage.
“What threads tie us together?” No hello. Straight into the philosophical musings. So fucking Emery, my dick hardened. She splashed the water with her foot. “Isn’t it crazy how we mind our own business, not knowing our next step can be the one that determines our forever?”
I inched closer to her, settling into familiar territory, recognizing her like this. She always searched for meaning, for an explanation, for something to tell her why when the answer would likely do nothing for her.
But I’d give her the best response I could and hope she came back to me.
“Do you know what Moira is?”
“Moira?” Her head slanted. She tossed me a look that suggested she hated the fact that I knew a word she didn’t. If she could, she'd probably reach out and steal it, just like she'd stolen a piece of me.
“Moira is Fate. It's the threads that bind us together.”
“You, me, Gideon, Virginia, Hank, Balthazar. We're tied together.” Her hands wrung her shirt, bunching it at the front. “I know this, but Dad hasn’t explained everything to me. You won’t. So, I’m standing here, aware these threads exist and blind to what they look like. Help me, Nash. Dad is holding the info over my head until I return for each visit. I don’t blame him. I ditched him for four years.”
Fuck you, Gideon Winthrop. Fuck the position you've put me in.
I didn’t have an answer for her, other than I wanted her. “Come back to me?”
“Never.” Her lips quirked up, the moonlight performing a devious dance in her eyes. She kicked the water and watched the waves splash my suit slacks. “Not until you tell me.”
I wouldn’t. She knew this.
Every time she spoke of her dad, she made a face. Confused. Lost. Warring with whether to forgive him. She needed to hear this from Gideon, or she'd never recover the relationship they’d shared.
I toggled with the words, wondering how to say this without sounding completely whipped, then realizing I didn't give two shits. “You are at war with yourself, and I’ve never wanted to pick up a suit of armor and fight for anyone more than I do now, but I know I can’t. This is your battle. This is your war. You’ll come back to me, Emery, or words like fate and destiny wouldn’t exist.”
“Fate? Destiny?” She shook her head. “You’re throwing some serious words around.”
