Page 87 of Liberated By Sin
“Maksim?”
My eyes moved back and forth between them, feeling like I was witnessing an argument I shouldn’t.
He brushed her hand from his shoulder. “She’s like me.”
Helena’s features softened and she lifted the boy’s chin with a tenderness I hadn’t expected from her, not even with Valentina.
“Maks.” Her voice was tinged with pain and empathy only a mother could feel. Which seemed uncharacteristic of someone like Helena, considering Santino had told me they’d only had the boy for about a year.
“Someone hurt you.” His was a statement, not a question.
She and I made eye contact, and with a resigned exhale, Helena gave the go-ahead with a subtle nod.
“They did. Someone hurt you too?”
His throat bobbed, and he nodded, biting back emotion.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked.
“Not anymore.”
“No, I mean…does it still hurt…inside?”
Oh, god. Genuine tears replaced the forced ones from earlier, flooding forward when I realized I’d judged this kid the way others had judged me for years because they couldn’t understand my trauma.
“Always,” I said, wanting to be honest because I knew that’s what heneeded, understanding, compassion, not sugar-coated bullshit answers.
“Yeah.” He nodded once more, gaze downcast.
Daring to get close, I touched his shoulder, expecting him to pull away, as he had with Helena, but I was surprised when he did the opposite and leaned into my touch.
“What helps you get through those bad days, Maksim? When the memories won’t fade, and the voices refuse to quiet.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks, and his shoulders quivered as he looked back at Helena.
“My…mom,” he whispered.
Helena’s eyes grew wide, and she rolled her lip inward to keep it from shuddering.
“Good,” I said, offering him a smile.
“Maksim…” She stepped forward, her voice thick with tears and disbelief. “What did you…just call me?”
He rushed her so unexpectedly that she stumbled back two steps before regaining her footing and wrapping him in a tight embrace.
Maksim wouldn’t make some miraculous change overnight. The scars on our bodies healed, but we carried those imprinted in our hearts and minds until death. He was fortunate to have people who cared enough to guide him through the storms that awaited.
I squeezed Santino’s hand as I gazed at the little girl who’d fallen asleep on the sofa—Derek’s daughter. The question of her paternity was answered when I came upon a framed family photograph on Helena’s mantle. The woman I’d seen on his arm last night was the same one in the photo. Not only had my brooding and scarred brother become a father, but he’d fallen in love and married. They both had. Next to Derek’s was one of Kai on his wedding day and a beautiful woman in a black dress. How serendipitous that despite life thrusting us into extremely distinct paths, we were all connected somehow, some way, after all these years.
Santino tugged me to his chest, and I lost myself in his eyes as I came to the hopeful conclusion that maybe we all deserved a little redemption and a sliver of happiness, whatever that might look like.
“Ready?” he asked.
Guilt pricked at my chest. My name and past with Ares were still a very big secret between us. How would we move forward when this dark cloud of deceit hung over our heads? Even thinking of speaking that name out loud made my throat constrict.
“I’m ready.”
Silas walked us to the door, and as the men approached the vehicle, Helena caught my elbow.