Keeper of the Lost Cities: Rebuild [COMPLETED]

Chapter Forty - KEEFE

He hated this.

The lapping waves, the salty air, the gritty sand—it should have calmed him. That was what beaches were supposed to do; they made people relax. But every time Keefe went to a beach, he thought of the Shores of Solace. He thought of his father, who wasn't really a father, and he thought of Ro, who was gone, and he thought of him and Sophie. She was gone too.

Except it didn't matter how much he hated the Shores of Solace, because he hated his mother more, and he needed to do this. Even if it physically made him sick to ask his father for help.

I need to do this.

He repeated that in his head as he knocked on the door, reminding himself he had to be quick too. The gala had probably already started a few minutes ago, and while he didn't mind being late, he couldn't miss it altogether. Biana and Stormy were counting on him.

Impatience warred with hesitation, skewing his ability to tell how much time had passed. But when it did, and the door opened, his father's gaze—always slightly disappointed—fell on him. Lord Cassius showed no signs of surprise. "Keefe. Why knock? It's your house too, after all."

Keefe gritted his teeth to bat against the words. His father had spoken them on purpose, to get him frustrated. He didn't know why he'd stayed at the Shores of Solace all these years, except maybe because he hoped that his dad would turn out okay, or because he felt some debt to the place.

"I didn't come here as your son," Keefe growled.

"Then by all means, be a guest and come inside."

He shoved past Cassius, a childish act of anger, but he didn't care. You'll be back. Her voice rang through his head as it did every time he allowed himself to think of her as someone other than a face he couldn't see. He'd been turning outward more frequently, resisting his mind, where she waited, and focusing on everything else—the Purities, the murder, Biana and Dex.

But this gala could mean the prevention of another war, and he had to be rid of her.

Even if it meant asking his dad for help.

The elegant furniture that made up the living room had always been more for show than comfort, so Keefe stayed standing. Nervous energy bubbled up and out of him, prompting his feet to move, his fingers to tap, his eye to twitch.

"I need you to help me do something," Keefe blurted, before his father could say something that would get him angry, make him change his mind. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he blinked them away. He didn't plan on crying—wouldn't let himself. "Remember when Sophie searched your mind for anything about stellarlune? She found your love—buried love. For me." His voice cracked, and he swallowed furiously. He was over that, had been over his father for years. Finally he said, "I want to bury my love too."

This time Cassius's eyebrow shot up, the barest hint of a rise. It still gave Keefe satisfaction. "For me?"

"For... Mom."

I hate this, he thought as Cassius's eyes dulled. He hated how he couldn't do this himself, how he couldn't handle his own emotions. He was an Empath, but Cassius was always better, and this proved Keefe knew it.

But his dad didn't jump at the chance like Keefe had thought he would. Instead, he lowered his head. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"What do you mean, it's not a good idea?" Keefe could feel his self-control unhinging, the walls he'd set in place breaking down and releasing a flood of emotions he couldn't deal with right now. "You do it!"