Symphony of Bones, L.T. Ryan [online e reader txt] 📗

herself for a few minutes before she had to share living space with her family for the next several days.

5

Senator Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was counting backwards from ten and kept his eyes closed until he reached zero. When he opened them again, he forced himself not to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. He’d learned a long time ago that heightened emotions and rash decisions were not ideal characteristics of an influential leader.

He stood in the middle of his bedroom with his jacket hanging off the bedpost and his tie loosened around his neck. His shoes were still on his feet, and if his mother were alive, she’d have given him a beating to remember. Bless her soul.

His wife, on the other hand, was in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt. She had a sweater wrapped around her shoulders, and it was so large on her petite frame, it looked like it might swallow her whole. The silence between them was deafening, and yet it didn’t drown out the tick of the clock on the mantle. He hated that damn thing, so old and useless, but his wife loved it, and that was all that mattered.

Mary had always been a tiny person, but the chemo seemed to have shrunk her further. The doctors said she was healthy—in remission and maintaining a good weight—but there was something about her now that seemed smaller. She smiled less and slept more. The cancer had taken a piece of her that was never coming back.

The two of them had just gotten into a shouting match, which had once been a rare occurrence. Now, it seemed to happen every other week. As soon as Connor hit puberty, Mother Nature had decided the two men could not live under the same roof. Through the haze of age, Grayson just about remembered what it was like to be in his son’s shoes. How often he had argued with his own father. How much he’d hated him back then.

Mary did not see their son in the same light. He was her one and only, her perfect angel. She couldn’t ignore the trouble Connor stirred up, but she figured if she just loved him harder, he’d straighten up and they’d go back to being a perfect family. It was a naïve, albeit honorable, sentiment.

But Grayson knew there was no honor in politics. He had an important role to fill, and Connor constantly stood in the way of those dreams. The public knew a fraction of what went on behind closed doors, and even that was too much information. Connor had broken off his leash a long time ago, and Grayson’s fuse had gotten shorter.

“Lawrence.” Mary’s voice was soft. Pleading. “I know something is wrong.”

“You don’t know that.” Grayson worked to keep his voice neutral. “You fear that. There is a difference.”

“A woman’s instinct—a mother’s instinct—is rarely wrong.”

“But even that margin of error is worth holding on to.” Grayson blew out a breath of air and joined his wife on the bed. He scooped her hands into his own and tried to warm them to no avail. He held her gaze until he had her full attention. “He’s done this before. You know that.”

She did not look away. “Yes.”

“He and I had a fight the other night.”

She didn’t blink. “Yes.”

“He’s just acting out.”

She pulled her hands back. “No.”

“Mary—”

“Don’t say it like that.” She stood up and straightened the items on her bedside table. She moved them one inch to the right, then one inch to the left. Right where they had been to begin with. “Don’t say it like I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” That was the truth. “But I think you’re jumping to conclusions. And we can’t do that right now. He’ll show up in a day or two, hungry and tired and begging for money like he always does.”

“Do you even want him to come home?”

“Of course I do.” That was a lie. “Don’t you think I want my son to come home safe?”

“You told him never to come back.”

“I told him not to come back until he’s learned to control himself.” Grayson stood and paced the length of the room. “Mary, please understand how difficult this is for me. Everything is changing right now. Anastasia is working on setting me up for a presidential run. Every time he acts out, it sets us back another step or two. We can’t afford that.”

Mary froze. When she turned around, her eyes held a fury he had never seen before. “You can’t afford that. Your career can’t afford that. But this is our son. Isn’t he more important than you and your stupid career?”

“My career is not stupid. I’m trying to help people. I’m trying to build a better country for our kids. For Connor.”

Mary scoffed. “Don’t lie to me, Lawrence. You can lie to the media and your constituents and your colleagues, but not me. I know you. I’ve known you since the day we met each other. I fell in love with you because you were ambitious. You never took no for an answer. I used to think that was admirable and never stopped to consider what you’d push to the side to get what you wanted. I never thought it would be us.”

His wife’s words hurt, but they ignited a flame inside his chest that burned away the pain. “You think I’m throwing away my son for a presidential run? You think I’d be willing to lose my family for that?”

“I don’t know anymore.” Exhaustion replaced the fury. Mary sat down on the bed and held her head in her hands. “But something isn’t right. He was so angry with you.”

Grayson had to fight to keep the politician at bay. He used to struggle to spin his stories, but now it was a habit he couldn’t break. “Connor doesn’t like being told no.”

“Like father, like son.”

Grayson sat with his back to his