Keeper of The Lost Cities: Book 9: Showdown

Chapter 41 - Sophie's POV

Nothing from the last five minutes went the way I expected it to.

But I wouldn't have it any other way.

It seems to me that impulsive kisses are officially added to my repertoire.

Grady would kill me.

"Here," Keefe comes back and hands me a folded piece of paper, slightly breathless.

"What is it?" I take the paper and go to break the seal when I realize it's already open.

"We - I found this in the spines of one of my books."

"Mhm," I inspect the outsides of the paper, looking for an address - from, someone, or to, someone - I don't find one. "One of those books that are near and dear to your heart, or those sweet, secret indulgences your heart desires?"

Keefe kisses me again, out of the blue. "That was a sweet, secret indulgence." he points at the letter. "That was a book."

"It's always more than a book."

"Not to everyone-"

"Books are alternate universes, made with characters-"

"You're ranting."

"Escape from reality--"

"That letter's from my mother."

That freezes me. "Your mom? Lady Gisela?"

"Last I checked, I didn't have another one."

I look at the letter with renewed interest. "Was it her usual thing? Striking deals and then making things harder?"

 "I think... she put this one in a book before all of this." Keefe runs his hands lightly over the letter in my hands. If I was an empath, I'd say he's looking, hoping, wishing for something that's not there, something he hopes is real but's not, and never will be. 

I scrutinize his expression, judging his mild and sad interest in the letter, and come to a conclusion. "You haven't read it."

"I -"

"Don't want to?"

"Want you to."

I cock an eyebrow. "You haven't read it, but you want me to?"

Keefe looks sheepish. "Maybe you can make more sense of it."

"She's your mom, Keefe."

"Yeah, and here I was, thinking the traitor gene comes from the dad's side of the family."

"She fooled all of us," I remind him, as I grab his hand, pull him into a sitting position and shove the letter in his face. "Now read."

"I don't want to!"

"And I don't want to be the Moonlark or in this situation, but here I am. Read." I glare at him. "Or better yet, read it aloud."

"I'm scared," he blurts suddenly. "I don't want to know what I'm going to find."

Keefe shuffles his feet and stares at them, like the action needs all his attention and focus.

I stare at him, my mouth hanging slightly open. The understanding comes slowly - that Keefe has his own inner demons - and it's wrong to force him to confront them. I still can't imagine why he wants me to read it. But I do it.

"Fine." I flip open the letter and am greeted with Lady's Gisela familiar cursive - though it appears slightly rushed.

Dearest Keefe,