“Ophelia Mars is the ultimate black widow, for sure,” Hael chuckles, pushing up from his position against the railing and rubbing his palms together. His eyes slide over to mine as he grins. “Wine drunk sex is always fun. You wanna get wine drunk with me, Blackbird?”

“Hael …” Victor warns, taking a possessive step closer to me. I look up at him, big and beautiful and aggressive, and I feel my palms itch with the need to touch him, to be closer to him … and also to punch him. That’s our thing, me and Vic. “But I like the brainstorming here. Let’s have some fun with this.”

“Havoc on a honeymoon,” Cal sings, hopping down from the railing and then letting his head fall back with raucous laughter, just like he did in the hallway when he was arrested. “Let’s break some stuff. There’s a signed Babe Ruth baseball bat in a display case that’s been calling my name since we got here.”

Hael chuckles and high-fives Cal.

“Fuck sports, am I right?” he shoves open the doors and prances inside like we aren’t involved in several mysterious plots against our lives. That’s Hael for you; he hides his darkness with cocky glee. “Let’s do a wine drinking contest. Last person to finish their bottle is a pussy.”

“Humans emerge from pussies; balls just nut.” I shrug my right shoulder. “I’d rather be a pussy than a ball sack.”

“Fair enough,” Hael says, kicking open the door to the basement. He pauses and snaps his fingers like he’s just thought of something. “Let’s save the most expensive bottles for later. We can bring the Vincents down and make them watch us break them all and pour the wine down the sink.”

“Oh, you’re wicked,” Cal cackles, following Hael down the dark stairs.

I stay where I am, because with the way Aaron’s looking at me …

He steps close, ignoring Vic’s snort of irritation. Oscar, on the other hand, doesn’t bother coming inside. I fucking hate that man, I think, feeling my skin prickle.

“Hey,” I say softly as Aaron reaches out and takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my wedding ring and then shifting his touch to my HAVOC ink. The still-fresh tattoo on my knuckles stings, a forever reminder of Aaron bent over my hand, the needle in my skin, his fingers using a rag to gently wipe the blood away. “Are you okay?”

He looks up, and his lips tilt into a genuine smile. He only gives them to four people: the girls, including Heather … and me. His affection hasn’t escaped my notice. Actually, I find myself leaning into it the way a flower tilts toward the sun. Even a voodoo lily needs light.

“I’m okay,” he says as I close my eyes, savoring his touch against my hand. When I do that, squeeze my eyes shut tight, I can pretend like we never broke up, like we’ve never been separated from each other. “I heard about … you and Oscar.”

Oh, fuck.

With all the crap we’ve had going on, I haven’t had a chance to tell him about it.

I open my eyes, but Aaron doesn’t look pissed the way I thought he would be.

“I didn’t mean to hide—” I start, but he shushes me with a kiss that tastes like sugar and dreams and Victorian houses painted a pretty shade of pink. Penelope would’ve shipped us, Aaron. When she was alive, she did ship us. Fuck me. Fuck my life. Sadness sweeps over me all of a sudden, like a tidal wave consuming the beach. I can’t breathe for the pain of it.

“I know you didn’t mean to hide it,” he whispers against my mouth, teasing his fingers down the arms of my baggy, borrowed sweatshirt. When I look up and see his wavy chestnut hair curling across his forehead, I almost die. He’s too cute. How can he be so cute?! Why am I crushing like a little girl? I am over that shit. I am. I’m … I’m … “And I’m not as dumb as Vic,” he whispers, putting his mouth near my ear and rubbing his face along the side of mine.

Somewhere close by, Victor growls. Like an animal. Like a beast. A savage motherfucking beast.

“Our girl, Bernie. Ours,” Aaron says, pressing close to me. Our fingers end up tangled together, palm to palm. I can feel the scar on his, where Victor must’ve cut him when he joined Havoc. Thinking of them pressed hand to hand like this, bleeding into one another, makes my heart spasm with a desperate sense of hope.

I thought that by joining Havoc, I was acquiescing to the idea of never having a life.

“You always wanted a normal life; now you’ll never have one. That's all you ever wanted, Bernadette.”

Aaron said that to me on our way to the soda fountain. He wasn’t wrong. I think I could’ve been happy living a normal life. Doesn’t mean I can’t be happy living an abnormal one. Because it’s still a life, isn’t it?

“Oscar’s … maybe. But I can deal with that because it also means mine.” He kisses me again, but he holds back on the tongue, leaving me to strain forward, wrapped in his scent, desperate for more. When Aaron lets go of my hands and steps back, I feel dizzy for a minute, almost like I’m floating. We stare at each other like we might die if we don’t get to be together.

“Jesus motherfucking Christ,” Vic snarls, rubbing a hand over his face. He gives me a dark look which I return, but then Heather’s skipping down the stairs with Alyssa Hart just behind her.

“Bernie, guess what?” Heather says, pausing as Hael and Callum come back up the basement stairs, cackling together and hugging over a dozen bottles of wine in their arms. She rolls her eyes and ignores them, reminding me that even if it feels like I’m her mother, we are less than a decade apart in age. “Alyssa says she’s a really good swimmer. She says her mom tries really hard to make sure there’s a pool at the motels they stay in.” She pauses, even as the bone-deep sadness of that statement washes over me. “So … can we go swimming?”

I reach out to touch the side of Heather’s face and she bats my hand away like I’m annoying the fuck out of her.

“I don’t see why not?” I say with a loose shrug of my shoulders. “Go dig through all the drawers upstairs, see if you can’t find something for Alyssa to wear in the pool.” I lean down with a smile on my face, hands on my thighs. “Don’t worry about making a mess: we’re on vacation.”

“Where did Alyssa come from again?” Heather whispers, leaning close to me and giving me a very skeptical sort of look, like she can’t possibly fathom why I’d ask her to ruin a house she thinks is an Airbnb rental.

“Oscar’s cousin,” I say loudly, when he finally deigns to step inside the house. The energy shifts in a very strange and violent sort of way. Can’t wait to have it out with that bastard sometime soon. We’re already overdue for a scuffle. I look up at Alyssa and smile. “I know you’ve never met him, but don’t worry: as soon as we find your mom, you can go home.” I stand up straight as Heather eyes me with suspicion. I fucking hate lying to her, but this is one of those situations that will go south quick if I don’t give my little sister some sort of answer. Imagine if she went to school and told everyone we just found some random kid at an Airbnb.

“You better not yell at me for making a mess when you told me to do it,” Heather murmurs, but then her mouth splits into a grin and she grabs Alyssa’s arm. The two of them take off up the stairs together. Thankfully, the Vincents’ bedroom is locked, so they won’t stumble on anything they shouldn’t.