LITMIR.BIZ

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of Caith’s own childhood.

      “Dad?” Derrick plucked at the blanket, sending an uncertain glance to his father. “Will I get to see Grandpa when we go to Coldcreek?”

      Caith wet his lips. “He’s not there right now, Derry. He’s on vacation with Grandma. I don’t think they’ll be back before we leave.”

      Looking dejected, Derrick lowered his eyes and nodded.

      As he’d often done in the past, Caith felt guilty over his son’s quiet acceptance. “Hey.” Leaning forward, he rested a hand on the silky crown of Derrick’s hair. “You know Grandpa loves you. He sends you gifts and cards every birthday, every Easter and Christmas, and he calls you on the phone all the time.”

      “But I’ve never seen him,” Derrick protested. “He won’t visit with Grandma, and you never wanna go home.”

      “I’m going home now.”

      “But he won’t be there.”

      Caith exhaled. A snippet of memory danced at the edge of his mind. A cold room, moldy and dark…the sharp reek of model car glue. His throat closed up.

      “I know it’s difficult to understand.” He swallowed with effort, focusing on his son and the clear gaze of his eyes. The imaginary odor faded. “Grandpa and I have problems. Grownup things we need to work out.”

      “Is that how come our last name’s different?”

      “Is that why our last name’s different,” Caith corrected. His son groaned and rolled his eyes. Caith chuckled. “I think it’s too late to be talking about this.”

      “Dad.”

      “It’s past your bedtime, partner. Now give me a hug goodnight.”

      As he did every night, Derrick wrapped his arms around Caith’s neck. Unwilling to let go, Caith kissed him on the temple, remembering a childhood when his father had done the same to him. When the days were filled with skipping rocks on the lake, shooting marbles after school, and climbing trees so high his mother had once grounded him for going beyond the measure of safety.

      “Get some sleep.” Caith rubbed Derrick’s back. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to school and we’ll talk to your teachers about going to Coldcreek.”

      “Okay.” Derrick scrunched beneath the covers.

      Caith tucked them close a final time, pausing to brush the floppy curls from his son’s forehead. He switched off the light and stepped from the darkened room into the hallway.

      With his back to the wall, he drew a slow breath, forcing quiet the childhood memories he’d resurrected. When he’d collected himself, he headed down the steps and into the kitchen where he found Aren. His brother was seated at the table, bent over his iPad, a cup of black coffee at his elbow.

      “Where’s Galen?”

      Aren glanced up briefly before making a change to the screen. “He went back to the hotel.”

      “He didn’t have to.” Caith stepped past his brother and opened the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of beer. Discarding the cap, he joined Aren at the table. “He could have stayed here.”

      “I think he’s uncomfortable around you. It’s been eight years since you’ve spoken.”

      “And that’s my fault?”

      Aren stared pointedly. “I’m not going to get into a debate with you, Caithelden. We’ve been down this road before.”

      “You’re right.” Caith took a swig of beer. “I’m an ungrateful bastard who bailed on his family, then committed the ultimate sin when I changed my name.”

      Exhaling loudly, Aren slumped in the chair. “We should probably talk about something else.” Another tap on the iPad. “Galen and I have already started working out the details to get you in place at Stone Willow. Logan airport has an eight-fifteen flight on Saturday morning, or a later one at twelve-twenty. I booked you on the early flight but if you’d rather—”

      “Cancel it.”

      “What?”

      Caith set the beer on the table. Stifling a yawn, he rubbed his eyes. “I’ll drive. I’d rather have my own vehicle.”

      “Caith, that’s going to take you close to eight hours.”

      “Good. It’ll give me time to clear my head.” Reclaiming the beer, he rubbed his thumb over the label, more focused on the black and silver foil than his brother’s frustrated stare. In the living room, the grandfather clock struck the hour, sending chimes like magic bells bouncing through the house. He smiled faintly. “When we were kids, Mom used to tell us every time a clock chimed, something magical happened.”

      “Mom used to tell us a lot of things. She named her kids for knights and a wizard.”

      “And a raven who collects souls of the dead,” Caith added softly, thinking of his name and its dark association. “Why didn’t you tell me about Ronnie and Merlin?”

      Aren shook his head. “Does it matter?”

      “We were friends once…Ron, Merlin, Trask, and me.”

      “You were. But that was before Trask died, before you left. I don’t know what happened between you and Merlin, and I don’t want to know. But I do need to know if you can work with Veronica. She’s an integral part of Stone Willow. If you can’t function with her there, we have a problem.”

      “Why would I have a problem with Ron?”

      “Because of the way you left things.” Aren leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “I know what happened between you before you left for college.”

      Caith frowned. “There’s a surprise.”

      Aren shrugged. “Veronica let it slip one night when she was visiting. She’d been having problems with Merlin and was talking to Melanie. I happened to be there.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Look, there’s no sense dancing around the issue. You slept with her, then bolted. You slept with a lot of girls back then. I just want to make sure Veronica won’t be a problem.”

      “That was a long time ago.” Caith didn’t want to remember that night by the lake, his confusion afterward, or the mucked-up way he’d left things. “Let’s get something straight, Aren. I’m going to Coldcreek to do a job and get paid. It’s about money. Not about family, friends, or going home.”

      Aren scowled. “I’m disappointed in you, Caithelden. I didn’t think it was ever about money. I thought it was about saving the world.” Standing, he collected his iPad and coffee. “I think I’ll finish this in my room. We can work out the details of the trip tomorrow. When you aren’t being a jackass.”

      Not bothering to acknowledge the comment, Caith downed his beer. It wasn’t his fault Derrick didn’t know his grandfather or that Ron and Merlin had problems. They’d all made their choices long ago. Hadn’t he done the same?

      Like an idiot, he’d walked away from Veronica after their night at Stone Willow Lake. She’d twisted his heart, leaving him gasping and foolish, so head-over-heels in love it scared the hell out of him. People who got close to him ran the risk of ending up dead. It was why he’d ditched the Breckwood name. What happened to Trask would never happen to Derrick.

      It was why he’d lied when he’d written that damn heartless letter to Veronica. There’d never been anyone else. His heart had belonged to her from the moment he’d given it that moon-drenched night at the lake, but he’d known it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be responsible for getting her killed. It was better she found someone safe. Someone who didn’t have a family with a multi-million dollar business, who wasn’t a target for kidnappers, extortionists, and killers.

      Trask had learned the cost of that friendship when the two of them sat hunched shoulder-to-shoulder in the damp

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