Page 46 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

I should say no and try to restore a semblance of order. Get us back to our normal. Instead, I nod and open my mouth when he kisses me again. I make the split decision to just enjoy the moment, and how many ever moments follow. This isn’t a happily ever after ending and never can be, but we might has well have some happy endings along the way.

16

Claire

Acouple of days later, I walk with toward the prison, pulling my coat tighter around me. My parents flank me, both looking worried.

“Are you ready for this, honey?” asks Mom, her voice quavering slightly.

I nod, not trusting my voice. Events of the past few weeks press down on me, threatening to crush my composure, especially when I think about the sex with Valerian two nights ago. Everything changed then, though we haven’t really discussed it yet. I can’t stop thinking about it, but now isn’t the time. I push aside thoughts of Valerian, focusing on the task at hand.

We pass through security, the guards’ eyes cold and impersonal as they pat us down and check our belongings. After an intense examination of the storage container of brownies Mom made, one of them grunts and says, “I’ll be sure he gets these.” I hope he doesn’t take them, since they’re my brother’s favorite.

A guard leads us to the visitation room. The space is divided by a thick glass partition, dotted with small booths equipped with phones. My stomach churns as we take our seats, waiting for Jay to appear.

The door on the other side opens, and there he is. My brother, looking both familiar and alien in his light blue prison uniform. It looks like scrubs, and I could almost pretend he’s not in jail if my imagination was good enough. His face lights up when he sees us, and for a moment, he’s the Jay I remember from before all this mess started.

He picks up the phone on his side, and I pick up the handset on this side and select the “speaker” option, hoping it will allow us all to speak. Seconds later, his voice issues through the tinny speaker of the phone, and we can all hear him. “Hey, sis. Mom, Dad. You all look great.”

I study his face, searching for signs of mistreatment or distress. To my surprise, he seems okay. There’s a calmness about him I haven’t seen in years.

“How are you doing, Jay?” I ask, trying to sound cheerful.

He grins, and it’s almost his old carefree smile. “I’m doing alright, actually. Better than I expected. They’ve got me working in the kitchen, which is pretty sweet. You know how much I love to cook.”

Mom leans in close to the phone lying on the counter. “Are they feeding you enough? Are you warm enough at night?”

Jay chuckles. “I’m fine, Mom. Really. The food’s not gourmet, but it’s not terrible, and I’ve got plenty of blankets, and thank you for sending me a TV for my room and the books.”

Dad clears his throat. “Son, are you...” He pauses and coughs again, as though having problems phrasing the question. “Are you getting the help you need?”

Jay’s expression softens. “Yeah, Dad. I’m in counseling. It’s helping me understand why I did what I did. I’m learning to make better choices.”

I listen to their conversation, feeling relieved. It’s finally over. The nightmare of Jay’s gambling and the constant fear of what he might do next is done. So why do I still feel this heaviness in my chest? Is it because I still have to pay off his debt to Valerian before we’re completely free, or is it something else?

“What about the other inmates?” I ask, unable to keep the worry from my voice. “Have you had any trouble?”

Jay laughs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Tension? Fear? “You’ve been watching too many prison movies, Claire. It’s not like that. I keep my head down, do my work, and no one bothers me.”

I want to believe him, but that momentary flash of...something...nags at me. “You’re sure? No one’s tried to recruit you into anything?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” he says, waving his hand dismissively, but I notice the way his gaze darts to the side, just for a second.

We talk for a while longer about mundane things. Mom tells him about her latest quilting project. Dad discusses the weather and how it might affect next year’s flower crops. I listen, contributing here and there, but my mind keeps circling back to that moment of tension in Jay’s eyes.

As our time winds down, his demeanor subtly changes. His shoulders tense, and he keeps glancing over his shoulder.

“Jay?” I lean closer to the glass. “What’s wrong?”

He forces a smile. “Nothing, sis. Just... It’s almost time for my shift in the kitchen. Don’t want to be late.”

We say our goodbyes, promising to visit again soon. As we stand to leave, I notice a man watching us from across the room on his side of the glass, ostensibly visiting with a pretty brunette on our side. His blond hair, light blue eyes, and hulking build put me on edge, but it’s the intensity of his stare directed toward Jay that makes my skin crawl. Most of all, it’s the tattoos on his arm that really catch my attention. I recognize the symbols from my time with Valerian.Bratvatattoos.

The man’s gaze locks with Jay, who visibly stiffens. My brother hurries out of the visitation room, not looking back.

My mind churns while make our way out of the prison. The cold air hits me like a slap, but I barely notice. All I can think about is that man, those tattoos, and the fear in Jay’s eyes.

“Claire?” Mom’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Are you okay, sweetie? You look pale.”

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