Sequoia Coast sea billows roll

Mama emerges from the shadows; John, too, although his chipper attitude is not at all appreciated. She wished she could shatter him to pieces with only a solid, hard glare; he didn't understand. He didn't! He didn't know, he wasn't their family in the way Everett had been, in the way— no. She says nothing to him.
And in that lapse of sound, she felt her brother crumble beneath her.
And she listens, listens to the rumble of the fissure and the torment in his voice.
And for a while, she says not a word, until something dark transfixes her, something enraged and awfully ugly. She peels from Simeon's shoulder to stare at him, empty-eyed, while her throat rumbles. He made the choice to stay.
Kai was not a brother to her. Not in the way Simeon was, the way Judah had — had been. She had felt it her whole life, that separation, that divide; made stronger only as time went on, that darkness that swam in his eyes when he looked at her. There had been no bond, no acceptance of relation, of undeniable blood-tie; only coexistence. Tolerance. Malakai hated her so openly, held nothing but disdain—
And she wanted to love him, still. But she couldn't; she couldn't, and it hurt her so deeply that she found it not within her to love him. He did not feel it for her.
Glassy eyes, voice shrill and sharp-edged, helpless, exhausted; You're gonna leave us too?