Page 67 of Rules to Love By

Ozzy lifted his hands again. “Also correct.”

But Marcus was still here, still relying on these people, still wanting to be close to Tris. So maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised they took an interest in his life. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re right. It’s none of our business.”

“But Tris worries. I’m not surprised he gets along so well with Lucky. They’re the same that way.”

“I suppose that’s why Tris is your best friend, and Lucky’s mine.” Ozzy clapped his shoulder. “We both tend to need someone to pay attention to us. Keep us grounded.”

“Someone you aren’t also sleeping with?” Marcus asked. Because Ozzy had Tris now. Why did he still need Lucky if he had Tris to worry about him and keep him stable? Was it a mistake to let Eli be that guy for him?

“Sit.” Ozzy kicked out a chair beside the desk and perched on the edge of the work surface.

Marcus frowned.

“Come on.” He motioned to the chair. “I don’t bite.”

“Do you lecture?” Marcus asked, though he did sit. Then, trying not to feel like Ozzy was towering over him, he straightened his spine, rested his elbows on the chair’s arms, and clasped both hands in front of himself.

“Do you listen?” Ozzy countered.

Marcus gave him a negligent shrug, which got a grunt from Ozzy.

“You’re older than Tris.” Statement, not a question, and Ozzy’s gaze was steady.

“Yeah. Couple of years. So?”

“He needed shelter when he came here. Protection.”

“That I couldn’t give him.”

“He…” Ozzy scrubbed the back of his head. “He told me about some of his city life.”

“Yeah.” Marcus didn’t like to think about it. If Tris had looked up to him, well, maybe he hadn’t set a great example. But he had tried to help. Tried to get him a job, tried to help him keep it. Tris hadn’t made it easy.

“He wants the people around him to be happy.”

“I know. I think he used to think—when he was a kid—if he could keep his stepfather happy, Stewart wouldn’t—well. You know.” He waved his hands around as he spoke.

Ozzy nodded. “Sure. Kids think like that sometimes. It might have started that way. Or that played into how he just is, naturally. Who knows? Chickens and eggs are hard to sort out.”

“Sure.”

“But that is how he is,” Ozzy went on. “How his brain works. He tried to keep that job at the Egg Basket so you would be happy. He tried to keep his room at the shitty boarding house so the kids staying there with him would be happy. Or at least sheltered. And the Egg Basket pay wasn’t enough for what the landlord wanted to let them stay.”

“I get it. I was there.”

“I know. And I’m not faulting you. You did what you could. Then you let him go.”

“Pushed him out, more like.”

“It was what he needed.”

“Why are we talking about this? It’s all ancient history. He’s here now. He has you. He’s happy making you happy. So what?” He grimaced, focusing his attention on scraping a splotch of dried, crusted plaster off one denim-clad leg. “I mean… Not so what. That’s good. I’m glad he has you and that he’s safe and has what he wants. Not sure what it has to do with me.”

“Your Aunt Iris.” Ozzy got up from where he’d been leaning and wandered around the desk. “She have a lot of rules?”

“Sure. She had a business to run. It took up all her time. Her rules were so she didn’t have to worry about me.”

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