Page 71 of The Spring in My Heart

My face is burning, and all I can do is nod.

“And for fuck’s sake, don’t tell anyone that we had this conversation. I have a reputation to keep.”

I laugh, and the embarrassment evaporates. “That was shot the moment you started running after Lauren like a lost puppy. Also, anyone who sees you with Felix and Justin knows you’re a softie.”

“Don’t be nasty, Luciana.”

I got to him. He and Cam never use my full name unless I get to them.

“I’m just saying.” I put together his sandwich and put it in the panini maker. “Do you want chips?”

“Why would I want a sandwich without chips?”

“Don’t be sour.” I grab some chips and put them in front of him. “At the risk of ruining this tender moment, did you talk to Marilyn today?”

He sighs. “I did. Even I can’t avoid her on her birthday.”

“Did she mention anything about Walter?”

His hand pauses on a chip, his back going ramrod straight, his gaze zooming in on me. “No, why?”

Tension inches up my neck. “She mentioned him during our call today.”

“She didn’t mention him to me. Maybe she didn’t want to rock the boat and risk pissing me off when I was feeling generous.”

“Oh, yeah. She wouldn’t want that. So that’s why she sounded so happy when she spoke to me. She had already hit you up.”

He grunts. “And Cam. She made out like a bandit. What did she tell you about Walter?”

His demeanor doesn’t change, and he looks disinterested at best, but like everything with my brother, the underlying care is in there.

I’m most worried about him when he’s silent, because in the past, that’s when things went wrong. And though Lauren and the boys have stabilized him, Walter is still the sorest of subjects.

For all three of us.

“He’s sick, apparently.” I stop there, looking into my brother’s face.

His reaction is swift. “He’ll be fine. Not even the devil wants him. Just don’t get caught up, Lux. If you want to put money in his commissary account, do it, but don’t let Marilyn drag you into it. You don’t need to take a dip into the cesspool.”

The finality in his voice is unmistakable. I can’t talk to him about this. Because he’s right. It’s a cesspool, but the bacteria is my dad.

Chase is the really lucky one. He doesn’t have Walter in his genes. I can’t do anything about that. That’s why I envy him and sometimes hate Marilyn.

Why couldn’t I have a different dad?

“Lux?”

I blink. “What?”

“I asked for more juice.”

“Oh. Okay.” I go to the fridge and serve him some.

My phone is blinking on the other side of the counter. It’s Ollie.

I give Chase his juice and turn back to check the text.

Ollie

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