Page 25 of Salvatore

“No. I’m in public relations,” I answer, even though we now know it’s a lie. Aedry’s been good to my family, but she’s still an employee at my brothers’ school. By law, she’s obligated to report any concerns about their welfare.

“Why can’t you just say you work security detail?” she asks. “It’s an honest living.”

“Public relations sounds more impressive. When people hear security detail, they think mall cop. A twenty-one-year-old mall cop didn’t stand a chance at gaining custody of two kids in grade school.”

I’m not sure she’s buying what I’m telling her, but when she speaks, she latches on to my reasons for doing what I did in a way that cements me in place. “I can’t imagine how stressful your life must have been back then, losing your mother and fighting to hang on to the family you had left. It must have been a nightmare.”

Yeah. It was.

My jaw seals tight. The last thing I want to do is remember that time or even talk about it. I’d toss and turn all night, wondering if my brothers were safe, if anyone was messing with them in that group home they were dumped in, and whether my efforts were in vain.

The judge, he didn’t like me and neither did the social worker assigned to the case.

“Too young to provide appropriate care,” she’d told the judge.

“Nothing more than a thug,” she’d whispered to the other caseworker.

If it weren’t for Vin stepping in, dropping the bills to support me, and replacing my shit-bag attorney with one of his, I would have lost my brothers to the system.

You might say I owe Vin everything.

“I’m sure everything you did was for them,” Aedry says, bringing me back from that dark time.

Her smile is soft, sympathetic without showing pity. “What?” I ask, even though I heard her.

“I’m trying to tell you that I know that you love them, and that everything you did was to help them.”

Her smile loses its luster in the quiet that follows. “What are you thinking?” I ask her when her attention drifts toward her bedroom.

“That they’re great kids with good hearts,” she answers quietly. “Just like their brother.”

She thinks I’m good man. But she’s wrong.

“But I’ll be honest,” she continues. “I’m confused by their actions tonight, and why they would pick me of all people to target for prank.”

I mull over what to say to maybe spare her or to make her feel better. In the end, instead of more lies, the truth comes out, even though maybe it shouldn’t. “Near as I can figure, you remind them of our mother.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” she says. “Are you saying I resemble her?”

“Not even a little bit,” I admit.

“Then where are you going with this?”

“She was everything to us,” I say without thinking how much I’m telling her. “You’re nurturing like her, affectionate like she used to be. I think they miss it and maybe need it.” I set my glass down on the coffee table and look up at her. “You might have noticed I’m not the warm and cuddly type.”

She laughs, placing her glass beside mine. “I might have noticed.”

“I’m pissed at what they did,” I confess. “Don’t get me wrong. But I know they meant well.”

“How?” she asks, grimacing. “It was so embarrassing. I can’t imagine what they’d hoped to accomplish.”

“They were trying to get us together.”

It’s like I’m watching a movie at home and I hit pause. For a long few seconds, Aedry doesn’t move.

But I do.

I lose the space between us, my hand cupping her face as her full lips part. “They think I’m attracted to you,” I murmur, trailing my thumb over her cheek. “And they’re right.”

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