Free Gears of War: Jacinto’s Remnant by Karen Traviss Page A

washcloth on her eyes to reduce the swelling.
    But he’d still know she’d been crying for hours. No amount of sympathy or tablets could change the fact that their kids were dead—and their parents, and cousins, and half their friends. The fact that the Santiagos were like millions of other utterly broken and bereaved people across Tyrus—across the whole world—didn’t ease the pain one bit.
    It just meant that the neighbors didn’t ask dumb -ass questions, or make stupid but well -meaning comments about time being such a great fucking healer, because they were mostly bereaved, too. Bullshit. I haven’t even healed about Carlos, and that was three years ago . Well, if they weren’t bereaved yet, they had family serving as Gears. It was only a matter of time.
    “What do I do with these?” Marcus held up the wine. He was raiding his father’s priceless cellar a few bottles at a time, but he wasn’t much of a drinker, and he certainly wasn’t a chef. “Which one’s for the chicken?”
    “The white one. Red makes everything a funny color.”
    Marcus studied both labels, then uncorked the bottle of white. “I’m impressed.”
    “Why?”
    “You, learning to cook like this.”
    “Well … you know.” Maria had problems getting her act together around the house some days, and Dom began doing stuff to stop her from feeling bad about it. Then it seemed to cheer her up a little to have dinner cooked for her. As long as he was cooking, he knew she was eating properly, even if it was only when he was home on leave. “I don’t know what else to do for her.”
    “Look, I’m passing this on because I promised I would,” Marcus said. “Dad says Maria can stay at the estate anytime. He’s worried about her being here alone. He’ll hire someone to keep her company. And he’s got access to all the top doctors.” Marcus stopped dead. The quiet embarrassment on his face said that he knew his father meant well, but that Dom’s answer would be no. “Sorry, Dom. You know my father. He thinks science can fix anything.”
    Dom looked away and found the pan of rice suddenly of great interest. Gestures like that choked him up instantly. The Fenix family estate was a huge empty mausoleum of a place, intimidating and magnificent, and Adam Fenix was a bit too much like his home, a man with no idea how to be anything other than distant and focused on his work. But there was a kind father in there trying to get out, desperate to do the right thing; he just didn’t seem sure how regular people showed that they cared.
    “That’s really, really generous, Marcus.” Dom felt his voice cracking. “Your dad’s a good man. Tell him thanks, but Maria needs to be here . You know. The bedrooms are …”
    He didn’t finish the sentence. The word was shrines . Dom understood that completely, but it still freaked him out. He’d done it himself. He didn’t want to touch his father’s workshop; he could still see them all in it, tinkering with some engine—Carlos, Marcus, Dad, Mom wandering in with sandwiches. But he walked away from it, because that was how you made yourself accept that they were never coming back. Maria walked into the kitchen and gave Marcus a big deliberate smile, but her eyes were dead. As always, though, she looked beautiful—perfectly groomed, hair immaculate, full makeup. That gave Dom hope that she’d mend, because she hadn’t let herself go. Shit, it was just over a year; how could anyone finish grieving in that time? He was expecting too much. But he just wanted to see her pain stop.
    And then I’ll have nothing left to do but look at my own .
    “Have you seen your dad?”
    Maria’s voice sounded hoarse and thick. She had a habit of plunging straight into topics now, as if she’d been having a conversation in her head that had just leaked out. Marcus accepted a peck on the cheek from her, blinking as if he’d noticed.
    “I haven’t seen him since I got back,” he said. “He’s pretty