Page 135 of Fractured Empire

“Mommy, Fla-or-eh-da is hot,” Leo states matter-of-factly, not too pleased to be wiping a line of sweat from his forehead. “Cabin is better.”

I chuckle at his blunt honesty, pushing some of his sticky blonde curls from his eyes. “It is hot, isn’t it? You’ll cool off now that we’re inside. You can go ask Nana for some ice cold juice, if you want.”

A trip to the cabin is unlikely to happen until Luna is a bit older.

“Good idea,” he declares, eyes lighting up. “I bring you some too.”

“Thank you, sweet boy,” I reply, watching him rush off toward the kitchen.

We showed up at my mom’s house less than an hour ago, and Leo has already explored all of it. The backyard especially, hence his sweaty state. We finally decided to visit my old home as a family since Luna is old enough to travel safely by plane, and to repay my mother for being such a saint in my early newborn days.

All Leon’s brothers and sisters have met Luna already, everyone taking time out of their schedules to visit us once we were settled in after the hospital. Leo and Bastian delighted in the tour of loved ones coming in and out of the house, excited for each and every visit. They took pride in showing off their sister and being helpful in front of others to let them know what good big brothers they are.

“You know, I always thought babies were pretty lame,” Ares muses next to me on the couch. His knees are up and he has my daughter propped up on his thighs, like a bouncy chair without the bouncing. “But this one you made is pretty cool.”

“You’re just saying that because she spit up on Linus.”

My stepbrother grins, wiggling his fingers softly as Luna holds on to his indexes with her tiny fists. “It was brilliant, you have to admit it. Bullseye, right on his designer tie.” Not knowing what her uncle is talking about, but finding it funny anyway, she blows a babbling raspberry at him and he chuckles.

“Thinking about having one of your own someday?” I tease, knowing how he’ll respond.

Right on cue, his face screws up. “Yeah, not going to happen. I’ll stick to being an uncle and handing them back as soon as they start to get fussy.”

“You’re good with the boys too, you know,” I point out, not to pressure him into having kids, but to give him credit where it’s due. “I really appreciate that…that you’re so kind to them. I think you made Leo feel cool, you know? You always ask him questions and genuinely listen for what he’ll say in response.”

“They’re good kids.” He shrugs. “It isn’t hard to be nice to them. Besides, they’re yours, so that means they’re my family as much as this little one is.”

Soft moments with Ares never fail to make me smile. He’s a menace, but he’s a loving menace.

“I never did thank you for dealing with Chloe that day,” I mention, thinking back and frowning. “It still feels fresh, thinking about how everything went so dark so fast.”

“No sweat.” Ares shrugs. “It was always going to happen.”

Frowning, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“You and Chloe never really knew each other, sis. She commanded every conversation you ever had, so she never gave you space to show yourself, and you never noticed how much she was hiding behind her bravado. You might have been friends, and you might have cared about her, but trust me, you have no idea who Chloe Contos is and you never did.”

His assessment makes no sense, but he speaks with such conviction that he must mean every word. “I don’t know how that could be true.”

“You’ll see,” he hums, so casual with his response as if it’s not insane. “She’s getting the help she needs, and your friendship might never recover from the vile things she did, but you might yet forgive her one day. If anyone can forgive her for such personal attacks, it would be you.”

“The help she needs?” I echo. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Not my story.” He shrugs. “Well, not only my story, I guess.”

“Ares, you’re being very vague and mysterious right now.”

“I know.” Smirking, he gives me a saucy wink. “Isn’t it fun?”

“Not particularly.” Nose scrunching, I try not to scowl fully. I hate giving him the satisfaction of getting under my skin. “You’re the worst.”

Putting a hand over his heart, he preens. “I try.”

“Kat, look, Bastian picked me a flower,” Gaia announces, coming into the living room while waving a lily around like a prize she’s just won. “Isn’t it so pretty?”

“It is so pretty,” I agree, delighted by her enthusiasm for a simple flower from the garden.

“Papa says I can’t marry him until I’m forty-five,” Gaia reports as if she’s telling on Linus, scrunching her nose in dissatisfaction. “You should convince him he’s wrong. If I marry Bastian, he’ll pick me all the flowers and I can come live with you.”