The moment her body relaxes into mine feels like a turning point. Since the moment I walked into the house, Wynter has kept me at arm’s length. Never sparing me more than a few words, and only when her siblings were nearby. But when her body molds to mine as tears roll down her cheeks, it feels like I’m holding my entire world in my arms.
I guide her back to her seat but rather than sitting her down and moving back to my own, I take the seat and tug her down on my lap. Holding her again is addictive, and I’m not ready to let her go.
I half expect her to pull away from me, to argue that she doesn’t need to sit on my lap, but instead she leans her head on my shoulder as we watch the coffins lower into the ground. Wynter and Snow sob quietly, Storm and Rayne as stoic as ever, but knowing them as well as I do, I know they’re choked up. Their chests are rising and falling too quickly, their hands poised in fists to hold back the emotion that claws at them.
Even I find myself choking back tears, the idea that the only parents who had ever cared about me rotting in the ground too somber a thought to handle. But holding Wynter keeps me grounded, keeps the demons at bay.
“You did great, dove,” I tell her quietly as we make our way to throw roses into the graves. Her hand holds mine tightly, as if she’s too afraid to let go, and honestly, the feeling is mutual. The moment I allow her even a second of space will be the moment she runs.
Her eyes meet mine, searching for something I’m not sure she’s going to find. “Thank you for being here,” she whispers.
“I told you once, and I’ll tell you a hundred times, I’m not going anywhere.” I pull her into my side and press a kiss to the top of her head. It’s something she’s going to need to accept, and eventually my patience is going to buckle and I’m going to have to push the point. But today is about our grief.
She looks at me with doubt swirling around in her eyes. She doesn’t believe me. Not yet at least. But she will. I’ll make her believe me.
Wynter stands at the end of both graves, only a foot between them, and stares at the coffins that have been lowered into them. The roses held tightly in her hands, the thorns digging painfully into her skin.
Storm steps up on the other side of her. “They would be so proud of you, Wynter. I’m so proud of you.” Emotion clogs his voice and if I didn’t know him better I may think he was about to cry. But Storm repressed his emotions long ago, he wouldn’t allow anyone to see his weaknesses, not even his family.
Wynter nods, her body shaking in my hold before she finally drops the roses onto the coffins. “Goodbye Mom, goodbye Dad,” she murmurs before turning to her brother. “Is he here?”
Storm nods. “He’s in the back. I’m sure he saw your eulogy for exactly what it was, a promise of what is to come.”
Wynter looks up at me and I almost expect her to pull away, but instead she leans into my touch. “Let’s do this.”
Snow, Rayne and Emerson trail behind us. We’d been over the plan over and over again the last few days, making sure we show a united front to the enemy, me included. To begin with, I suggested I continue from the shadows, but I was overwhelmingly outvoted.
It’s time to stop living on the sidelines and assume my position with the family, and once some of the dust settles, it’ll be time to claim my woman as well.
As we approach the Russo family, Wynter leans into me for support, her face showing none of the tension she holds in her body. The grace she shows as we walk toward our enemy is nothing short of beautiful.
Angelo notices us first, his cold eyes settling on my arm wrapped around Wynter and an evil smile crosses his features. The hair at the sides of his head is graying, and his hairline recedes more and more each time I see him, but if I can avoid it, our visits are few and far between. His attention moves to Emerson and Rayne behind us, a glower crossing his hard features. The trophy he thought he could win for himself on someone else’s arm isn’t going to do us any favors.
A fake smile appears on his face as we close the gap and I hold Wynter a little tighter. “I was so sorry to hear about your parents. Such a horrible thing to happen, and they were so young!”
The noise Rayne makes behind us almost isn’t human, but he stays put. He won’t leave Emerson even for a second with any of the Russo organization around, let alone the man who orchestrated her kidnapping.
“Thank you for coming,” Storm says politely. “I’m sure my parents would be very grateful you came to celebrate their lives.” To anyone else, his words sound sincere and honest, but it’s the venom that seeps into them that tells me he’s barely holding on to his temper.
“And Wynter, your words were so beautiful. I’m sure your parents are very proud of you for standing up on behalf of your family.” His eyes fall to us, and I can’t help the punishing grip on her waist. I can’t stand the idea of him looking at her, let alone speaking to her, and my primal need to protect her is almost overwhelming.
“Thank you,” she replies, her head held high as she stares at the man who has taken everything from this family.
Paul and Tony, Angelo’s cousins, stand behind him, their filthy eyes moving from one person to the other, as if assessing whether we’re armed. We’d have to be pretty fucking stupid to bring a gun to a funeral, and that’s why there’s more security here than at Buckingham Palace. The two sides of Frost Industries colliding like this is already a bad idea. It would only add insult to injury if we were to flaunt that so freely.
Angelo’s eyes lock on Emerson and I can’t help but look over my shoulder to check on her. She may not realize it yet, but there’s not a damn thing anyone in this family wouldn’t do for her, regardless how long she has been one of us.
“You lied to me, Emerson.”
A smile tugs at her lips, the confidence she exudes is merely a farce, but there’s no way he knows that. We checked with her over and over again before we left the house this morning about whether she was okay to be within a few feet of the man who kidnapped her, but she was adamant she be a part of this, and all I see is confidence as I look at her.
“I did. I’m sure you can understand why a mistruth was needed under the circumstances.” She flashes the diamond rings on her left hand and shrugs. “It’s true now though.”
Rayne chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “A Saint James through and through.”
Tony glares at my newest sister and I can’t help the impulse to move in front of her, cutting off his line of sight. He hasn’t even acknowledged my existence, but then I didn’t expect him to. Their denial that I am just as much a part of this family as the rest of them is the reason I’ve lived in the shadows for so long.
“Nephew,” Tony growls.
“Don’t call me that.” I shake my head slowly. “Calling me that implies I am a part of your family, and I am most certainly not.”
“But you are, Everett.” Someone steps out from behind Paul and me still. His unmistakable green eyes, the color of moss, have always been haunting, but as he’s grown, it’s only become amplified. But it’s not me his stare is caught on. No, it’s the youngest Saint James that seems to have captured his attention.
“No, he’s not,” Wynter says and my head swings around to face her. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have other people to speak to. Again, thank you for coming.” Her smile is strained as she looks to Storm to lead us away.
“It’s risky being seen with her, cousin. You never know who might want the princess that means so much to two families,” Elijah muses.
“Wynter isn’t a princess.” I shrug. “She’s a queen, and you’ll do well to remember that.”
