Page 3 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

“Do Mom and Dad know about this job?”

He looks away, guilt flashing across his face. “Not yet. I wanted to tell you first. I thought you’d be proud of me.”

I wince, remembering countless nights spent worrying about him, bailing him out of trouble, covering for him with our parents, and now he wants me to be proud of him for taking a job that puts him right back in the line of fire? “I can’t do this anymore,” I say gently but firmly. “I can’t keep hoping you’ll change only to be disappointed again and again.”

Jay’s expression drops in a way that breaks my heart. “Claire, please. I’m trying. I really am.”

I inhale sharply, preparing myself. “If you’re really serious about getting better, you need to quit that job. Find something else—anything else—and you need to tell Mom and Dad everything.”

“They won’t think I’m doing the right thing, will they?” he says, his voice small.

“Probably not, but keeping secrets isn’t going to help anyone. Least of all you.”

The bell jingles again, and I hear Mom’s voice. “Claire? Are you back there?”

Jay’s eyes widen in panic. “I should go.”

I grab his arm as he turns to leave. “No. You’re going to stay and talk to them. Right now.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to bolt, but then his shoulders slump, and he nods. “Okay. You’re right.”

We walk out to the main shop area together. Mom and Dad are by the register, counting the day’s earnings. They look up when we approach, surprise and wariness on their faces.

“Jay?” Mom says with hope and a hint of concern. “What are you doing here?”

Dad’s expression hardens. “If you need money?—”

“No,” Jay interrupts. “It’s not that. I... I need to talk to you both.”

I squeeze his shoulder, offering silent support. As Jay begins to speak, telling our parents about his job at the casino, I move away to give them privacy. I busy myself with closing up the shop, locking the door and flipping the sign to closed.

The familiar routine is soothing while I listen to the murmur of voices behind me. There are tears and raised voices, but also moments of quiet understanding. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

I finish my closing tasks, running my hand along the smooth wood of the counter. This shop isn’t just a business. It’s our family’s legacy. The thought of losing it has kept me up morenights than I can count since Jay has sunk into his addiction, leaving the rest of us to pick up the slack.

I glance back at my family, still deep in conversation. Jay looks exhausted but relieved, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Mom is holding his hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Dad’s face reveals myriad emotions I can’t quite read.

A tiny flicker of hope tries to spark to life. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe Jay really is trying to change, but I squash it down quickly. I’ve been burned too many times before to let myself believe just yet.

The conversation behind me winds down, and I hear footsteps approaching. I turn to see Jay standing there, his eyes red-rimmed but clear.

“Thank you for making me stay and talk to them.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

He hesitates, then pulls me into a tight hug. For a moment, I let myself sink into it, remembering the big brother who used to protect me from schoolyard bullies and sneak me extra dessert when our parents weren’t looking.

When we pull apart, he gives me a watery smile. “I’m going to make this right, Claire. I promise.”

I want to believe him. God, how I want to, but the cynical part of me, the part that’s been hurt too many times, holds back. “Actions speak louder than words,” I say firmly. “Show us you mean it this time.”

Jay nods, determination settling over his features. “I will. You’ll see.”

As he walks back to our parents, I turn to face the darkened shop. The scent of flowers surrounds me, a reminder of everything we’ve built here. Everything we stand to lose if things go wrong.

2

Valerian

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