Playing Heart Games

Pre-Game 38: Welcome Home

AXEL

The Ryder mansion stood silhouetted against the night sky. As Asher pulled up in the driveway, my emotions warred between anticipation and fear. Giddiness had been chasing me since we crossed over into Reynard.

When I stepped out of the car, the fear started to dominate. The last time I'd seen mom in person, she'd been sobbing. We'd skyped while I was at rehab. She always smiled, but I could see this gnawing concern in her eyes.

I wasn't sure I could handle seeing that in person.

I slowed as I approached the front door.

I hadn't seen my father. Not since that day.

He hadn't called once.

Asher glanced at me, his brows furrowing.

Pull it together, Axel.

I forced my lips into a smirk and opened the door.

A figure slammed into me.

Mom. I blinked. Her arms were wrapped around me, her face pressed into my chest. There was a beat. Then I was grinning so wide that it hurt. I squeezed her back.

She pulled away. Tears were streaming down her face, but she was beaming. Her hands framed my face. "Did you get taller?" she burbled.

The fear vanished.

I laughed. "You got shorter."

She hugged me again, saying things I couldn't hear, her voice smothered by my shirt.

I took in the front room. I'd never thought I would miss the white marble walls, but looking at it now... everything was fine, everything was exactly the same—

My father stepped into the room. His arms were crossed, his lips pursed into a thin white line.

The last time he'd been glad to see me, let alone smiled in my direction, was over two years ago. I wasn't sure what I'd expected to see on his face, but the expression in his eyes—pure hatred—shouldn't have been surprising.

I looked away, wrapping my arms around my mom. "I'm home."

*

The marble walls reflected the scene back to me.

A man and woman, sat at one side of the kitchen island. The man—black hair, tall, muscular. His arms crossed, his features stony. The woman—large deer-in-headlight eyes, soft face, small. Biting her lip, fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt.

A boy opposite them.

His hair shorter than it used to be, black instead of white-blond. His earrings absent.

If I squinted, I could pretend I was Asher.

Mom dragged in a breath. "I know this is hard sweetie, but..." Her eyes started to water.

My heart wrenched. I started to stand. Dad put his hand on her back, glare fixed on me. I stopped. I sat.

Mom rubbed away her tears. "I'm sorry honey. I just...I'm just emotional."

My throat was tight. "It's okay, mom. Everything's fine."

Dad scowled.

Mom jerked her head into a nod. "Yes, yes, everything's fine. We just..." Her eyes flitted to dad. "Sweetheart, can you...?"

His expression didn't change. "You'll be subject to restrictions from now on."

My brows furrowed. "Restrictions?"