Adam kept looking over his shoulder, half-expecting his father or someone else in authority to take exception to him leaving his room. Sasha eyed him curiously. “So what happened?”
“Can I get some breakfast first?” Adam groaned.
“No. Answer the question, man. I’m holding your toast hostage till you do.”
When Adam hesitated, Sasha held the freshly buttered triangle under his nose. “Mmm, mmm, good. Talk or I’m taking first bite.”
“That’s cruel and unusual even for you, Sasha,” quipped Faith.
“You still here, brat?” Sasha said loftily.
“What? You think cause you hang with the older boys now, you’re such hot stuff?”
“No,” Sasha said, “I’ve always been hot stuff.”
Chris looked askance at the barely-older adolescent. “Okay, I’ve got two things to say. One, you’ve *never* been hot stuff. Two, this is my sister you’re talking to. She can’t appreciate how hot you are. The two of you are practically related.”
“It was a joke, Chris. I hope your Dad gives you a nice big inheritance. Maybe you can buy a sense of humor,” Sasha snapped.
“Guys, lighten up,” inserted the Voice of Reason cleverly disguised as Adam. “Now that *I’m* here, I’m obviously the heir apparent, so Chris doesn’t need to worry about catching the clue bus. I’ll float him a loan for his own limo.”
The look on Sasha’s face was comical. “*That* was a joke, right? You’re not really doing Chris out of his inheritance, are you?”
The impassive look that Chris gave Adam was no joke. It was impossible to tell what Chris really thought about the possibility of being usurped by studying his face. But if Faith had to guess, she would have to say that her brother was not happy.
Adam seemed frozen by Chris’ glacial blue gaze for several seconds. “I haven’t discussed this with Dad, Chris. I swear.”
Though Adam was the oldest of the group, he was suddenly uncertain that he was the most mature. He had a feeling that Chris tied with Sasha for that honor, and he had no intention of testing that theory.
“Take pity on a guy who hasn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours, okay?”
Chris brushed past Adam without another word, and Sasha grabbed Adam by the shoulder when it seemed as if he would follow. “Don’t. He’ll be fine.”
Faith shifted from foot to foot uneasily, finally stammering out an apology of sorts for leaving so abruptly. “I have to check on him. It’s a twin thing.”
Adam stared after her, watching as she rapidly caught up with her brother. “And then there were none? Don’t you want to go with them?”
Sasha grinned unrepentantly. “Nope. I’m too curious to know what happened.”
Adam sat down with a heavy sigh, finally sparing a moment to take in his surroundings. “Jeez, this kitchen is bigger than our whole apartment in—“ He cut himself off with a shiver, realizing that he was on the verge of remembering his old life with his mother. His late mother. There was no sense in revisiting the past.
Sasha saw the confused array of feelings flickering across Adam’s face and recognized once more how much they had in common. “It’s okay, you know.”
“What’s okay?” Adam asked with a frown.
“Remembering. Your Mom wouldn’t want you to forget her, but she wouldn’t want you to be unhappy either. So just go with whatever comes, man. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Sometimes I feel like—“
“Like what?”
Adam completely forgot about eating breakfast. His appetite had deserted him, and even the smell of the butter melting enticingly on toast couldn’t tempt him now. “Like I’m being disloyal to her,” he said quietly.
“By liking your new life?”
Adam felt the familiar wetness in his eyes and swiped a shaky hand over them. “My new life? Feels better than the old one. But that’s not right. It’s like I’m making myself happy at her expense.”
“She wouldn’t want you to feel like that, Adam,” Sasha said firmly.
“Maybe not, but I do.” Adam closed his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful that I’m getting to know Dad, and I really like Nikita, but—“
“But?”
“I don’t—“ When Adam opened his eyes again, the dark brown orbs gleamed wetly. “I don’t deserve any of this,” he whispered, his eyes darting anxiously around the room.
“Who says you’re entitled to it all?” Sasha waved his arms to encompass everything he could see. “This place…belongs to all of us now, I think.”
Sasha jumped to his feet, unable to sit still another moment. “But *Chris* more than anyone. It’s like it’s in his blood or something. Chris thinks the chateau will be *his* someday.”
“Oh, my God, then he must think I convinced Dad to give it to *me*.” Adam was horrified. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Adam didn’t know what life held in store for him, but he didn’t feel the connection with the chateau and its lands that Chris did.
“I didn’t—I wouldn’t,” Adam protested, feeling even more miserable than he had.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Sasha reassured the older boy. “Now have a piece of toast, it’ll make you feel better.”
Adam smiled despite his mood. “Is that the cure?”
“No, but talking is. You still haven’t told me what went down when we got here.”
Adam bit into his toast with an audible crunch. “I’m grounded.”
Sasha rolled his eyes comically. “No shit, Sherlock. I figured out that part. But what did you do?”
“Stole Dad’s motorcycle,” Adam reluctantly admitted. “Then Jazz and I ran out of gas on the way here, and we were walking for hours and hours—“
Sasha brightened, his dark eyes dancing mischievously. “You two were out there alone for hours and hours? Woohoo! So what else aren’t you telling me?”
Adam gave him a puzzled look. “Nothing.”
“There’s nothing else to tell?” Sasha sounded positively disappointed.
“No. Why?”
Heaving a huge sigh, Sasha crumpled into a nearby chair. “Damn. I thought maybe you and Jazz finally—“
“No!” Adam denied hotly, feeling his cheeks flush. It wasn’t for lack of wanting, though, he mused. In fact, just the thought of Jazz’ invitation, followed by that hungry kiss, was enough to bring him to the brink of climax.
“He’s too young.”
Sasha chuckled. “He’s almost as old as you, Adam. Jazz will be fifteen this summer.”
“Then we’re both too young,” Adam snapped impatiently.
“Man, you have got it real bad,” Sasha said, this time with more compassion than amusement.
“You don’t know the half of it. He doesn’t know how much I—“ Adam raked both hands through his dark brown hair, the tousled result making him look even more vulnerable. “We didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye,” Adam whispered. “And now I can’t see him for two weeks.”
“Wow.”
Sasha sat up, unconsciously adopting the role of ameliorator. “Would you like me to give him a message?”
To Sasha’s surprise, Adam’s face flamed. “There’s only one thing I want to tell him,” he whispered, “and you can’t say it for me.”
That sounded suspiciously like a dare to Sasha. He smiled enigmatically.
Sasha pulled Adam reluctantly behind him. “I told you, we’re not supposed to see each other for two weeks!” Adam protested, knowing full well if he wanted to, he could easily break Sasha’s grip on his wrist. “What are you doing?”
All at once Sasha stopped, causing Adam to bump into the younger boy. “You’re not going to *see* him, okay?” he said in an exasperated tone. “But you need to *talk* to him. And believe me, *he* needs to hear your voice.”
Now Sasha had Adam’s complete attention. “You saw him, right? How is he? Is he upset? Angry?” Pissed off and never wants to see me again? Adam’s mind continued to race.
“You’ll see.”
“Sasha!!!”
Sasha grimaced. “Okay, okay, poor choice of words. God, you and Chris are more alike than you think. All that honor and—“ Sasha broke off at the agitated look that appeared on Adam’s face.
“This could be a big mistake,” Adam hissed.
“You’re worried about getting into trouble? You’re already in trouble, man. What else could they do to you?”
“It’s not that. It’s—I feel like I’m deliberately disobeying my father.”
“But I told you—“
“I know. But you’re just splitting hairs, Sasha, and you know it. I’m supposed to stay in the house. Jazz is supposed to stay in his room. There’s no possible way we can—“ Adam searched anxiously for words. “—have contact. Talking to him is just—getting around what Dad meant.”
Sasha almost hung his head. Unfortunately, he understood exactly what Adam was getting at. He would feel the same way if it were him. It would break his heart to be forcibly separated from Skye, but if it were Da’s will, he would have no choice. Until he was older.
“Okay, but do me a favor?”
Adam nodded.
“Tell Jazz that you’re all right.”
“But—“
“I’m serious. He won’t believe me. And Adam? I think he was crying.” Sasha swallowed hard, remembering the abject picture that Jazz made earlier that morning. “And it takes a lot to make Jazz cry.”
Torn between love and duty, what else could he do? He was his father’s son. He would find a way to do both.
***
Nikita closed the oven. Though she still could not claim to be much of a cook, she enjoyed making cookies, and with a tiny bit of help from Declan, she could give her children fresh, homemade chocolate chip cookies.
The smell of chocolate soon wafted through the air, and as if drawn to the scent, her children began trickling into the kitchen, one by one. “Mmm, cookies!” exclaimed Faith. “Can I have one?”
“When they’re done, sweetie. How’s your day so far? Staying out of trouble?”
Faith gave her mother an incredulous look. “Mom, that was the old Faith. I’m the new, improved Faith. I don’t get into trouble anymore.”
“Uh huh. So what kind of non-trouble are you not getting into this afternoon?” Nikita formed her features into a sweetly smiling, non-threatening expression and waited.
“I was thinking—“
“Oh, dear.”
“Funny, Mom.” Faith peered at the oven as if that might make the cookies bake faster, and Nikita gazed at her oldest daughter affectionately. “I was thinking of going horseback riding,” she said blandly.
“Is Chris going with you? You know I won’t let you go out alone, Faith. The woods *and* the mountains are equally dangerous.”
“I ride pretty well now, Mom.”
“I know you do, sweetie. I’d like to keep it that way for many years to come,” Nikita said placidly, never betraying that her heart had kicked itself into high gear. Just the thought of one of her children being hurt, or worse, her imagination supplied, frightened her.
Faith walked her fingers along the counter, seemingly unaware of her mother’s inner turmoil. Her long auburn hair was pulled back and braided into one long plait. Her eyes were most definitely green today. She was radiant. Energy, beauty, intellect poured through those vibrant eyes and arrested Nikita’s scrutiny.
“Chris is busy. But—I could ask Connor,” she said quickly, the words apparently in a rush to leave her mouth.
Oh, honey. You are growing up. But miracle of miracles, you’re also coming back to your roots. To your first love. Nikita basked in the glow of her daughter’s obvious good mood for a few more moments before replying to Faith’s implicit query.
“Connor hasn’t had much chance to ride lately, though. Maybe you should, um, keep a special eye on him, Fee.”
Faith broke into a broad smile that was as bright as it was unexpected. “I could do that, Mom.” I could definitely do that.
Nikita pulled out the cookie sheet, congratulating herself on still being able to influence her daughter. Though she was in no hurry to see Faith or any of the children grow up, she pondered the possibilities, smiling at the thought of becoming Connor’s mother-in-law. Michael would undoubtedly object, albeit unobtrusively, but only because there could never be anyone good enough for his daughter.
That was as it should be. Sometimes it scared her to think of how close they had come to living a very different life. Then she thanked God for allowing her to realize the most important dream of all, to love Michael the way he was meant to be loved. Everything else was just icing on the cake.
She grabbed a cookie, so hot the chocolate was melting, and popped it into her mouth, licking the sweetness from her fingertips. The smear of chocolate across her mouth made her look like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Faith rolled her eyes and shook her head. Sometimes her Mom acted younger than she did. But that was okay. For a grown-up, she was almost cool.
Nikita sipped her tea, her blue eyes thoughtful. Before Faith left, Chris came in, followed by Sasha. Adam was conspicuously absent. But then again, he was grounded. He was probably feeling slightly under the weather, no matter how well he appeared to take word of his punishment last night.
“Have you boys seen Adam?”
She quickly caught the exasperated look that crossed Chris’ handsome young face and followed up her initial question with another. “Are you getting along with Adam, Chris?”
“Of course,” he snapped, completely unlike himself. His jaw looked tight enough to break if he clenched it any harder. She could hardly believe her eyes. Chris was almost choking on his anger.
“Something’s wrong. Talk to me, Chris.”
“Nothing to talk about, Mom.” Chris closed himself off the same way that his father did. Nothing short of pliers would get his mouth open now.
She gave her son a sidelong glance. “I’m a really good listener.”
“I know,” he replied sullenly.
Her hands crumpling the napkin she was holding, Nikita looked at Sasha, a question in her eyes. “Do you know anything about this?”
Sasha’s dark eyes darted immediately to Chris before coming back to Nikita. Chris merely stared at him, as if willing him to keep his mouth shut. Flushing guiltily, Sasha mumbled something inaudible.
"I didn’t hear you.”
“No!” Sasha shouted, a bit too loudly. He flushed again. The whole situation made him uncomfortable, and he disliked feeling like he was in the middle.
Nikita felt like grabbing the cookie out of Sasha’s hand and putting him over her knee for a good spanking. She knew he was holding back something, and he was a good deal easier to crack than her son.
“Maybe you should give us a few minutes *alone*,” she suggested to Sasha, waving a hand towards the doorway behind him.
“Sure,” Sasha agreed, only too happy to be out of there.
***
“If you can’t tell me, maybe you could talk to your father?” Nikita asked gently, completely unprepared for Chris’ reaction.
“No! I can’t!” Chris yelled. Immediately afterwards, he stunned Nikita by burying his face in his arms, which were carefully folded in front of him on the kitchen table.
“Chris?” Nikita looked closer. She could see his shoulders moving up and down, though he made no sound. Nevertheless, she was certain that he was crying. “Oh, honey, what is it?”
When he refused to answer, she pulled him, resisting, into her embrace. He was a teenager now, with all of the usual issues that meant facing, but for some reason, she sensed that he needed reassurance more than anything else. As she pressed his face into her chest, she could feel the wetness saturating her T-shirt. Stroking his hair, as she often did when he was so much younger, she finally felt him settle gratefully within her arms.
With a sigh, he said, “I’m getting too big to do this, Mom.”
“Oh, honey, you’re never going to be too big for me to hold you, don’t you know that? You’ll always be my number one son.” With that, she kissed the top of his head.
“Am I?” he asked brokenly.
“Are you what, honey?”
“Your number one son,” he whispered, trying desperately not to start crying again.
“Always and forever, Chris. I love you.”
The teenager sniffled. “I love you, too, Mom.”
“Would you like to talk now, honey?” she asked kindly.
He shook his head. “Maybe later,” he said more equably. He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Can I just stay here for another minute or so?”
“You can stay as long as you like, Chris. I’m always here for you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he murmured.
“When you’re feeling a little better, why don’t you go see if Emmy needs any help moving her stuff?”
After watching her oldest son smile for the first time that day, she concluded that she must have a flair for matchmaking. Of course, it wasn’t hard when you considered that the parties involved were attracted to each other to begin with. But the course of true love rarely ran smooth. She ought to know.
Secret passages. All Adam needed was the right one.
After making a brief appearance at dinner, where he announced that he was too tired to eat anything, Adam shuffled off in the general direction of his room. Once he hit the third floor landing, however, he used what little information he managed to pry out of a reluctant Sasha.
“There should be a wall mechanism right about…here.” Adam pressed a discolored spot on the wallpaper, but nothing happened.
“Great,” he mumbled to himself. “Just my luck to find the one that doesn’t work anymore.”
Suddenly there was a loud whoosh of air, as if a seal had been broken, and there, in place of the wall, was a space. About the size of a door. Adam cautiously crossed the threshold, feeling the temperature drop markedly once he was within the passageway. Before he could change his mind, the door snicked back into place against the wall, leaving him quite literally in the dark.
With a shudder, he mentally thanked Sasha for reminding him to take a flashlight. Lighting the way before him, he gasped at the magnitude of the spiderweb before him. “Holy shit!”
He nearly dropped the flashlight. The only thing that prevented him from dropping it, actually, was the fact that it would leave him alone in the dark with countless spiders who could see better than he could.
There was only one way to go: through it. Grimacing distastefully, Adam promised to be kind to insects in the future and pushed his way through the web, praying fervently that none of the creatures that he dislodged sought retribution.
“Only for you, Nicky,” he chanted under his breath. “You’d better appreciate this.”
***
By the time he made his way through the maze-like corridors to Jazz’ room, he was covered in dust and bits of spiderweb. “They ought to bring Boy Scouts through here to earn a merit badge in exploring,” he said to himself as he approached the room that held Jazz.
Tapping on the wall with his knuckles, he searched for the right spot to trigger the door mechanism. “Shit, this might work in the movies, but it’s hard work in real life.”
Locating a slight bump in the wall, he pressed. Nothing happened. He pressed again. Still nothing.
He sighed. Nothing seemed to be going right since they arrived. “Jazz? Are you there?”
***
Inside the room, Jazz was half-asleep. Smoke had brought him dinner on a tray, but he didn’t feel much like eating. Over and over, he relived Smoke’s obvious disappointment. It made his heart feel heavy.
Then there was the fact that he missed Adam. He didn’t even know what state Adam was in, although Sasha had tried repeatedly to tell him.
“Jazz! Are you there?”
And now, he was apparently hallucinating. “Go away! I don’t believe in you!” he shouted at the offending voice.
Adam drew back, nonplussed for the moment. But he quickly found his voice. “What do you mean, go away? After what I went through to get here?”
Jazz almost fell off the bed. “Adam? Is that you?”
“Who the hell else would it be? Gee, it feels great to be missed!” he said through the wall, his voice strangely muffled by the intervening layers between them.
Jazz crawled along the floor on his hands and knees until he was flush with the wall. “Where are you?”
“In the wall. Where do you think?”
Jazz blinked. “I must have fallen asleep. This must be a dream.”
Adam was growing exasperated. “It’s not a freaking dream, Nicky! Now open the damn door!”
“How?”
“There’s a little switch, probably buried under the wallpaper, that activates the door.”
“Where does it go to?”
“Secret passageway.”
“Wow. Like a real castle.” Jazz sounded like he was in awe. He clearly envied the older adolescent.
Adam despaired of getting through to Jazz. If he couldn’t, and his batteries ran out, he could be out here all night long. With the spiders and their chittering noises.
“Nicky!”
Like a switch had been pulled, the younger teenager came to his senses with a startled look. “Adam! Are you okay?”
“I will be, once you get this door open!”
Jazz listened to Adam’s terse instructions and searched desperately for the mechanism. When he found it, it was almost anti-climactic. There was a soft click, and then a whoosh, like before, and suddenly there was Adam. Standing on the other side of the threshold. “Quick, get something to prop it open!”
“Why don’t you come inside?”
Adam shook his head vehemently. “I can’t. I gave my father my word that I would abide by the rules he laid down.”
“Isn’t this violating them?” Jazz asked incredulously.
“Not really. I’m not in direct contact with you, if I stay on my side of the door.”
“But I can’t touch you!” Jazz wailed.
“I know.”
Adam turned off the flashlight and slowly sat down on the floor. Jazz reluctantly followed suit. It was something. But not enough.
“Talk to me,” Jazz directed, his voice roughened by unspoken emotion.
Adam leaned his head against the doorframe and looked longingly at Jazz. “I miss you.”
Jazz grabbed the comforter from the bed and handed it to Adam. Adam ignored his outstretched hand. “Take it. You’ll get cold in there.”
“Drop it first.”
Jazz did as he asked, and Adam picked up the comforter, smoothing it out into a makeshift bed. Jazz took another blanket, lay it on the floor, and soon, they were staring into each other’s eyes.
Eventually the events of the day before caught up with Jazz. He lay down, intending to rest, but sleep beckoned. He closed his eyes and fell into a light slumber, lulled by the sound of Adam’s voice.
“Adam…” came the breathy murmur.
Adam stopped speaking, gazing affectionately at his friend. It wouldn’t do to be found here, come morning, but for now, what was the harm in watching him sleep?
“Bon nuit, cher ami. Je t’aime,” he whispered across the mere inches that separated them now.
Someday they would be closer than this. Someday they would belong together, body and soul.
Someday….