The Oath We Give (The Hollow Boys Book 5)

silas

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

Another loud succession of knocks on my front door. 

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, running a hand down my face. 

I’d been at the office late last night going over reports only to come home and spend two hours placing a tracking device on Easton Sinclair’s phone. 

Even though we didn’t find anything at the Sinclair Manor to prove he was helping his father, I wasn’t going to just take his word for it. Not when I know that he’s a fucking snake. 

I yank my front door open, finding my younger brother on the other side. He’s still several inches shorter than me but looks much older than I remember from the last time I saw him. 

“Levi?” I furrow my brow. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Being a fantastic sibling and letting you know hurricane Zoe will be landing at your doorstep in the next hour.” He shoves paper into my bare chest, letting himself into the apartment. 

I don’t need to look to know he’s going to the kitchen, most likely to raid my fridge. Since he was a kid, he’s had an appetite that mirrors a bottomless pit. 

Pulling the paper down, I feel a headache attack my brain immediately.

Wedding Bells for Tech Billionaire and Petroleum Heiress. 

The Ponderosa Springs Tribune distastefully describes our quiet relationship, not forgetting to mention Coraline’s human trafficking horror story for added context. 

As if her trauma is needed to garner more attention to their shitty newspaper. A picture of the two of us leaving the courthouse is placed in the left-hand column. 

I swallow the urge to rip it in half, pulling my phone from my gray sweatpants. I call Coraline three times before she answers, sounding out of breath. 

“Yes?” 

“I need you at my apartment in the next thirty minutes,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead to relieve the tension. “It’s an emergency.” 

“What happened?” she rushes out, the echoing of something heavy falling in the background. “Is it Stephen?” 

“Worse.” I sigh. “It’s my mother.” 

Coraline sucks in a breath; I can practically hear her panic through the phone. I’d told her after the wedding she’d have to meet my parents soon. I’d planned to buy her as much time as she needed, but apparently, three days is all we’re going to get. 

“I’ll be there soon,” she mumbles into the speaker, not giving me any more time to fill her in before she hangs up, leaving me with an empty dial tone. 

Fucking woman, choosing to panic on her own than let me talk her down from the ledge over the phone before she gets here. She’ll be the death of me, I’m sure of it. 

I shut the front door, slowly padding across the cool floors into the kitchen. 

“Congratulations,” Lev mumbles around a store-bought muffin. “Mom’s gonna kill you. Feels nice to watch the golden brother fall.” 

My eyes roll. He wonders why I tell him he’s the dramatic one. I walk toward the coffee machine, starting a new pot, before grabbing two pill bottles. One for my growing migraine, the other for depression. Jennifer Tako would be so proud to know I still take them and haven’t switched them out for vitamins. 

“Not only did you get married before she met your wife, but she found out through a newspaper. You’re royally fucked.” 

“Let me worry about our mother,” I say. “Why are you even home? Did something happen with your internship in Boston?” 

I watch the coffee brew slowly, taking its sweet time, like it’s not the only thing in this room that’ll get me through what’s about to be the longest day of my life. 

“Missed you too, asshole.” My back is facing him, but I know he’s flipping me off. “Interns have a week off, and I wanted to come see Dad.” 

“Caleb?” 

Lev’s silent, telling me more there than any of his playful words will. When there is enough coffee, I pour it into a mug, turning to face him before repeating my question. 

“You know Caleb, Silas.” He sighs, setting down the half-eaten muffin and leaning on my island. “He’s avoiding his problems. Surfing his life away, barely picking up my phone calls. Avoiding home so he doesn’t have to face the fact that Dad’s dying.” 

Levi and Caleb being twins is only one of their interesting traits. They’re an array of personality traits that have changed and grown over the years. Levi is studying microbiology in Boston, while Caleb is in SoCal, only going to college so our parents will pay for his apartment on the beach. 

But their bond has always remained unshakeable. Until now, until our dad got sick, and the differences between how they handle stress started to show. 

Levi is a little like me, wants to face the problem so he can fix it. Caleb is…Caleb is afraid. Thinks if he just doesn’t think about it, it’ll go away. Dad isn’t sick if he doesn’t come home.

Neither of them is in the wrong, but I know one day Caleb will regret not seeing Dad more before he dies. However, that isn’t my battle. I won’t force him to cope the way I think he should. I’ll just be there for the aftermath to help pick up the pieces. 

“It’s selfish, him acting this way. He won’t even talk to Mom.” His voice is tinged with an edge of venom as I look over at him. 

“Caleb is dealing with it on his own time, his own way. Nothing selfish about it. Give him time to do that on his own. When he’s ready, he’ll come home,” I say calmly, scooping a spoonful of honey into my drink. “And you? How are you handling it?” 

“I’m fine.” He shrugs nonchalantly. It’s robotic and practiced. That’s probably what he says to Mom, what he tells Dad, his friends on the East Coast when they ask. 

Caleb may be avoiding, but Levi is deflecting. 

I move closer until I’m standing next to him. Leaning back against the kitchen island, I peer down at him, waiting for him to meet my gaze. 

“Lev, look at me.” 

After a few moments of silence, he slowly lifts his head up so our eyes meet. 

“I’m not Mom. I’m not Dad. You don’t need to put up a strong front for me.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “You’re allowed to be sad here. Or angry. Or happy. Feel whatever you need to feel.” 

They may think they’re men, tough and out in the world on their own, but they’ll always be my little brothers. Kids who need permission to not be strong all the time. 

His father is dying right in front of him; he’s allowed to break. 

“You ever get scared, Si?” 

“All the time,” I tell him honestly. 

“Me too.” He swallows tightly. “I’m always scared. Just waiting for the phone call that he’s gone. Every time my phone rings, I fucking panic. What are we going to do when he’s not here?” 

Tears line the corners of his eyes, and I wish I could take his pain away. Wish there was a way to make this better, but nothing I say can do that. 

“We’ll live, we’ll remember him, and we’ll be happy because that’s what he wants for us. All he’s ever wanted. It won’t be easy, and there will be days you struggle more than others, but learning to love the memory of someone you’ve lost helps. It just takes time.” 

It’s what helped me mourn Rosemary, what will help me mourn my father when he passes. Learning to love the memory, who they were on this Earth instead of focusing on them not being here. 

Grief is not an uphill battle. 

It’s a process that has dips and turns, not just up. 

Levi nods, accepting my words but not really hearing them. He won’t, not until he’s ready to, and that’s all I can ask of him right now. 

“How do you do it?” he asks, a frown between his brows. “Dad, Hawthorne Tech, the schizophrenia? I’m fucking struggling, and you’re just like a stone wall, like always.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying to think of how to answer without adding more pressure on him. I’m not sure how to tell him that I don’t want to be like this, but I have to. For him, for Caleb and Mom. If I fall apart, start trying to explain the truth of my mental illness, it will be too much for them to carry.

I can’t put that on them, and I don’t have to—at least not right now.

Because peering in from the kitchen entry is my wife.

The ring is an adjustment, but calling Coraline mine? Easy.

All five foot nothing of her, brown locks cascading past her shoulders, framing her sharp features, curiosity glinting in her eyes, almost like she was waiting to hear my answer as well.

Hunger pools in my gut.

The leather jacket that’s made several appearances hangs across her shoulders. It reminds me of Alistair and his obsession with the jacket he’s had since high school.

A tiny white tank top that shows off her stomach makes me think about how easy it would be to shred the material with my teeth.

Coraline takes me in, too busy checking me out to realize I’ve noticed her presence, soft brown eyes tracing the lines of my shirtless body. If my kid brother wasn’t in the room with us, I’d let her keep going.

“Coraline.” My gruff voice makes her eyes snap to mine, a blush on her cheeks at knowing she got caught. 

Levi spins his head around so quickly it gives me whiplash. I withhold my annoyance as he behaves as if he’s never seen a girl before. 

She gives him a toothless smile, waving awkwardly. Her hips sway as she comes further into the kitchen, teasing me with the prospect of jerking those tight ass pants down just to see what color her panties are.

“Hi,” she breathes quietly, strangling the strap of her purse.

“Damn,” Levi mutters under his breath like we can’t hear him. 

I instantly reach out and swat the back of his head. “Manners.” 

Coraline has to bite down on her lower lip to keep from grinning, and I find myself unreasonably angry at her teeth for gatekeeping it, hiding away one of the rare and beautiful things she does. 

I like her smile. I like her laugh. I like her.

It’s an odd place to be in for me, liking someone. I haven’t had a crush since middle school, and this feels much more intense than I remember.

“Levi, the most attractive brother.” He stretches out his hand to shake hers. “How the hell did this asshole land you?” 

Fucking siblings. 

They’re created to constantly work your nerves. It’s why Rook gets along with my family so well.

“Aren’t you the younger twin? Can you be the most attractive if there is an older copy of you?” She tilts her head, blinking as she feigns confusion, taking his hand and shaking it. “And I’ve got a thing for the silent and brooding type.”

He scoffs. “Caleb wishes he had this jawline.” 

Like the rubber band he is, he snaps right back to his goofy self. Our earlier conversation melts away, all his fear hidden behind one blinding smile. 

I watch her bust his balls for a few more minutes, listening to them banter back and forth before he heads to the bathroom, leaving the two of us alone. 

“What’s the emergency?” she asks, leaning to make sure Levi isn’t within earshot of our conversation.

“My mother and father are on their way over here.”

Her eyes widen before she looks down at her outfit and back up at me. “You didn’t think to mention that before? I would’ve worn something, I don’t know…” She tosses her hands in the air. “More fucking bridal? I look like Jackie the Ripper.”

“You look hot,” I mutter. “And my parents won’t care what you’re wearing, Hex. As long as they get to meet you.”

She scoffs. “Doubtful. How did they even find out? I thought you were going to buy us time?”

I simply slide the newspaper Levi gave me across the island in her direction, then pick up my coffee and take a sip while she reads. Her nose scrunches while she scans the page.

Her nose does the exact same thing when she’s about to come.

Fuck.

Do not think of that right now. Think of literally anything else, you idiot. Out of reflex, I look down at my crotch. The last thing I need is to pop a boner before my mother storms into my house.

“Finding love after the house of horrors? You think they ever get tired of the kidnapping angle?”

“Do you?” I ask. “Ever get tired of the way they still talk about what happened to you?”

“Yes,” she breathes, pressing her thumb and pointer finger into the corner of her eyes, “But I have a thick skin, so it doesn’t bother me anymore. I’ll only ever be one thing in this town, to these people. Nothing I do will ever change that. It’s just—” 

“Exhausting.” I finish the sentence for her, watching her remove her hand and nod at me. As if just for this instant, she realizes we are more similar than different.

When the news stations recycled her story nationally over and over again, showing the same video footage of her fleeing the basement only to throw herself into the arms of her captor, I remember a deep sense of understanding passing through me.

I understood how she felt.

Having to listen to the narrative people made up about you because you never spoke the truth publicly. As if you owed the world your story, or they’d just make one up for you.

To this town, she may forever be the girl who was kidnapped. 

But that’s not all she is, not all she’ll become. 

I just wonder if she knows that. 

“Was it difficult for you?” Coraline asks. “Growing up with schizophrenia and having everyone know about it?” 

It hits me this is the first time she’s asked me about it. The first time the topic of my mental health has been brought up between the two of us.

“Sometimes.”

Which isn’t a lie. 

It was extremely difficult knowing the truth about my own mind but still having to let people believe differently. Constantly asking myself how could they not see it? How could they not believe me? Then always finding the answer to be, why would they? 

“I didn’t wanna ask about it.” She pauses, flicking her gaze across my face, scanning for any sign of emotion. “I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would.” 

I lift an eyebrow. “And if I decided never to talk about it with you?” 

She lifts one shoulder, pushing a piece of white hair behind her ear, unbothered. “I wouldn’t care. It’s not my business.” 

Her straightforwardness, the brash, unwavering tone, makes my lips twitch. I know her words are sincere, harsh but true. They aren’t flowery, not fake sympathy bullshit trying to make me feel better. 

“You don’t care I’m schizophrenic?” 

“I care that you get the support and medical care you need.” She shakes her head, reaching down and tearing off a piece of Levi’s half-eaten muffin, speaking around the treat. “I am not completely heartless. But no, I don’t care. It’s a mental illness, not the plague.”

Her voice is like a breeze of honesty blowing away all the fake sympathy and advice I’d heard over the years. I feel her eyes on me, studying me like I’ve been with her. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t.” Coraline lets out a scoff, frowning. “Don’t thank me. It’s the bare minimum. It irritates me that you feel the need to thank someone for treating you like a human being.” 

How this woman thinks she’s cruel is beyond me.

“I—” 

“Silas Edward Hawthorne!” 

My mother’s voice pierces through my apartment, making Coraline jump. Her eyes widen, mouth falling open. 

“Oh, that’s full name. You’re fucked,” Levi laughs as he walks back into the kitchen. 

I peer down at Coraline, wrapping a protective arm around her waist, silently letting her know she can fall into me if she needs it. Hesitantly, she places a hand on my bare chest, blinking up at me. 

“Ready, wife?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”