Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(62)

I was regretting not bringing my phone as I walked through the door. It turned out that I didn’t need to sweat it. I knew Sven at a glance, as he did me.

I froze at the sight of him.

He would have been devastatingly handsome, if he didn’t look so much like our father.

He had pale, beige blond hair, pin straight and clean cut. His eyes were ice blue, but not cold, not like those same eyes were on that other face. His features were even and attractive, with a Nordic cast to them. He had a perfect, clear complexion.

I don’t know how long I stood there, just taking him in, struck profoundly by the recognition.

He had already secured us a table, and he stood as I approached.

He was tall. Taller than Stephan, taller than James, possibly as tall as our father, though more slender than all three of them.

He was the spitting image of the monster that haunted my nightmares, and he was giving me an open, friendly smile.

“Bianca,” he said by way of greeting.

We sat at the same time, just staring at each other, taking it all in.

“Sven,” I said finally.

We went back to staring.

“We could be twins,” he said.

That made me blink, but as I processed his words, I realized that he wasn’t wrong. It was just a conclusion that my mind hadn’t wanted to make on its own.

“We look like him,” I told him.

He nodded, pursing his lips. “Yes.”

And we did. I’d always had a hope tucked away in some distant part of my brain that I somehow resembled my mother. She’d shared my coloring, at least. Though so had my father…

All of those hopes were dashed as I stared at my half-brother, who looked so much like me and my father that I couldn’t deny it anymore.

Sven seemed to read my thoughts, which was beyond disconcerting. “We may take after him in looks, but at least we didn’t inherit his crazy, violent, homicidal tendencies.”

Oddly, that made me smile. “You don’t know me that well,” I told him.

He smiled.

It was my smile, not my father’s. It was a kind but sad sort of smile, and Jr.’s was less reserved than my own. “Bianca, you and I would know at a glance. We’re too familiar with monsters not to recognize them on sight.”

His words made me realize several things at once.

The first was that I would recognize a monster on sight, and perhaps I spent too much time jumping at shadows, and doubting people that didn’t deserve my doubt.

The second was that Sven must have endured so many of the things that I had, living in a house with my father.

“He was gone most of the time,” Sven said. “And he rarely came after me. That was so hard for me, to watch him do that to my mother, and be spared. It made me feel so worthless. It still does. I don’t think I’ll ever be able let go of that shame.”

As he spoke, I registered that looks might be the biggest thing we had in common. He was the open book to my closed one.

“I had to leave her,” he continued. “I was out of there the second I turned eighteen, but she wouldn’t leave. No matter what he did to her, she wouldn’t leave him. It made me sick, and it broke my heart, but I saved myself and left. I haven’t spoken to either one of them since. And now she’s gone. Anyone could have seen it coming a mile away, but I’m still in shock.”

His voice was so open and raw by the end of it that I felt the need to comfort him. I watched my hand cover his, feeling surreal.

He seemed to appreciate the gesture, smiling at me, though that smile died a quick death.

“Did he hit you?” he asked, and I stiffened.

“He did. Often. He treated my mother and I much the same when he was dealing out the blows.”

Sven winced. “That’s horrible. I thought he spared me because I was a kid.”

“He thought that women were worthless. He always made that very clear when he was in one of his rages. I believe that his mother was the one that cut him off from his family’s money when he married my mother, and so he blamed them both for his misfortune.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I gave a little shrug. The idea of someone pitying me where my father was concerned made me uncomfortable. I was the least of his victims…

“Sven, I have something to tell you,” I said, wanting to get it off my chest.

He just nodded at me to go on.

“Our father killed my mother. That was why I ran away. I didn’t know about you, and I didn’t know about your mother, or I would have tried to warn you both. Your mother contacted me shortly before she died. She left before I could tell her, and then I couldn’t get ahold of her. I wanted to warn her about just what he was capable of. I wasn’t successful, and I feel responsible.”

This time his hand covered mine. “You shouldn’t. Even if my mother had known about yours, she would’ve stayed. I doubt anything could have made her leave, so don’t put that on yourself. All of this falls squarely on his shoulders. All that we can hope for is that they’ll find the bastard, and lock him up for good.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Mr. Uncivilized

I stayed much longer than I’d planned to. I hadn’t expected us to have so much to say to each other. I’d thought it would be awkward, and brief, and likely pointless. I had not expected this feeling of kinship. We instantly had some kind of a bond that I didn’t understand, but I knew without a doubt that we would be seeing more of each other.