Page 56 of The Last Good Man

She knows me well.

Too well, as we’ve always been close.

Amongst us––her three kids––I’m the closest to her.

Maybe it's because I’m the oldest of the bunch. And it’s also perhaps because I’ve witnessed most of my father’s abuse.

Sure, he didn’t lay a finger on her, but there are worse ways to crush a soul.

She folds the kitchen towel and places it on the counter beforemoving her attention backto me.

“Every time I walk into Frank’s shop, she comes to the front and asks about you. She always wanted to know if you were okay in prison.”

“Now that’s a conversation starter,” I joke.

She doesn’t smile.

“She saw you when you picked up your car from the shop last week, so she asked me about you on Sunday. She was at the church with her brothers and father, so we couldn’t talk much, but I told her she should talk to you directly. She wanted to know if youwere seeingsomeone, and I said no. Was I wrong?”

She looks straight at me, waiting for an answer.

“No,” I said after a moment.

“Good. That’s all. I thought she had talked to you, but obviously, she didn’t,” she mutters, displeased.

Her eyes move away from me while my brother listens to us intently.

“Yeah, she didn’t,” I say. “What does she look like in case someone named Angelina approaches me?” I say in a lighter tone, hoping to positively affect her mood.

“I doubt she’ll do it. Approaching men is frowned upon in her family—as it should be. Hey, at least I tried.”

“Totally,” Noah comments, mockery tinging his voice. He gives me a wink. “Marriage material, as I said,” he continues.

My mother throws her hands up in the air, huffing with frustration.

“You two are both impossible.”

My brother and I chuckle.

Mumbling stuff under her breath, she makes a beeline for the exit.

“Clean up when you’re done,” she tosses at us on her way out.

“What made you think it was about a woman?” I bark, realizing I’m talking too loud and may wake my sister.

She turns around and closes the kitchen door before adjusting her voice.

“It is about a woman. I can see it on your face.”

My brother’s eyes dart betweenthe two ofus before stalling on my face.

He wants to see what my mother sees.

Lifting an eyebrow, I give her a smile.

“What do you see?”

She gestures to my face.

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