Page 31 of The Price of a Promise

Choosing for Axel created his personal worst-case scenario.

There was no winning here.Not for me.Not for anyone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AXEL

“You want Chinese tonight or Korean?”Damian asked dully from the kitchen as he rustled through take-out menus.

“We got enough money for takeout again?”Trace asked sharply from the bathroom, where he was shaving in front of the tiny mirror.

“We fucking better,” I chimed in as I opened the refrigerator, assessing the absolutely abysmal state of anything edible.“Because it’s not looking so hot in here.”

“This is where we should try an activity called ‘going to the store,’” Trace said, tapping his razor against the side of the sink.He had a big interview tomorrow with a potential employer since he was graduating this semester, instead of next semester like Damian and me.Somehow after almost a decade of practice, he still sucked at shaving.He needed some time to let the nicks heal before meeting with these people.“I know it sounds like a drag, but I promise you we can make our own food on occasion.Mom might not have wanted us in the kitchen often, but we all know how to boil some damn noodles and make a solid Bolognese sauce.”

“So…does that mean get groceries delivered?”I asked Damian.

“Jesus.You guys suck at managing money,” Trace muttered.

“That’s why you’ll be CFO of our business,” I shot back.“We know you’re the best, Mr.Money God.Now should we waste time ordering groceries and cooking, or just have them bring the Chicken Teriyaki straight to our mouths like we want?”

Trace sighed dramatically.

“Chicken teriyaki,” Damian confirmed.The food debate was resolved, but the money worries tugged at me.We’d been skating the line with destitution for a few weeks.What had been a declined debit card the night I proposed to Cora was actually an overdrawn bank account and now, a late tuition payment.Luckily, one of our favorite Chinese places accepted cryptocurrency, which meant we could eat for at least a couple more months on our crypto holdings alone.

“I’ll make sausage and potatoes next week,” I called over my shoulder to Trace.“Just like Mom’s.Promise.”

He grumbled something I didn’t hear as he rinsed off his razor.Tiny bits of toilet paper dotted his chin and left cheek as he came out into the kitchen.

“Another shave well done,” I teased him.“You’re ready for the work force, buddy, you walking cube steak.”

“Fuck off,” he said.“You guys know as well as I do that I need this job so we can all stay afloat and launch our business like it deserves.If I were you, I’d be offering to shave this beautiful mug myself just to woo the recruiter.”

I clapped him on the back.“That sounds like one of your weirdo fantasies again.”

”Is this the part where we’re supposed to thank you for graduating early and taking care of your broke brothers?”Damian deadpanned.“Because if it is, you’ll have to inform the class of your expectations.”

“I think we should just go ahead and give him the accolades anyway,” I told Damian.“That way he’ll be more willing to support us once he makes his first billion and we’re still trying to graduate.”

Trace blinked.“I’m honored you think I could make a billion dollars that fast.”

“Or maybe I was saying that it’ll take Damian and me a few more years to finish this shit up.”

We all shared warm smiles.The playful ribbing was one of our tried-and-true methods for dealing with money anxiety.We’d learned during our teenage years, once Damian and I had really gotten settled at the Fairchild house.It had taken us about a year to feel safe enough to let the Fairchilds into our hearts and three more before we completed the formal adoption process and traded the last name Haynes for Fairchild.

The home we found with Deb and Gary Fairchild was warm but cash strapped.Trace was their only biological kid, and the addition of two foster brothers made for a bustling but broke household.Even if my younger sisters hadn’t been split up from us before the Fairchilds, they certainly wouldn’t have been able to join us, and their loss still haunted me.

I’d spent years traumatized by and rehashing the turn of events that split us up from our two sisters.When we found out that Kaylee had passed away our freshman year of college, it only made everything sting worse.She’d become a victim of human trafficking.The same system that failed her had uplifted us.We still couldn’t find Jordan.We’d been able to find out that she and Kaylee had been separated at some point after their initial joint placement.It hurt too bad to consider where—or how—she might have ended up.Especially when Damian and I were thriving.Where was the fucking balance in that?

Yet despite those first tumultuous years in the foster care system, Damian and I found some stability.We saw that a decent future was possible.We scooped horse shit for a meager allowance while Mama Deb and Papa Gary lightened the money stress load with a rotating repertoire of jokes and lightheartedness.We were one emergency away from the food pantry, but it never felt that serious.

It wasn’t until we got out on our own that we realized how fucking poor we really were.

I swiped at my phone, ready to order some damn chicken teriyaki but also half-looking for a sign of life from Cora.Since she’d left, something had been off.Even three weeks later, she still wouldn’t tell me what, but I felt it, and I searched for some way to equalize the pressure.The only way I knew how was to get my ass out to LA and visit her, but after buying the engagement ring and stocking the apartment with toilet paper, we were tapped.

AXEL: Hey babe.Haven’t heard from you since this morning.How are classes?I wish I could squeeze you right now.

She’d been taking longer to write back, which she blamed on her classes.And the longer she took to write back, the more I needed to hear from her, which made me feel like a codependent twatwaffle.I watched the message thread for a moment and then turned the screen off.

---