Page 56 of We Are Yours
Every bow stroke.
Every vibrato.
Through the years, I chased perfection, and peace became the only note I couldn’t play.
The recurring thought about legally adopting Kraven crept to the forefront of my mind. It’d be for less than a year, but at least we could rest easy for a minute and not have to constantly worry about CPS being on our asses. I was trying to save money in case I needed a lawyer. Another reason I was working so much.
What happens after Kraven turns eighteen? Am I still responsible for him? What if he wants to go to college? Do I help pay for that, too? Do I get to go to college?
Kraven and I never talked about any of this. I think we were both stunned we’d made it this long. The worst part was that I had no one to talk to about this, and though I wanted to open up to Isla, I didn’t want to burden her either.
Although she was someone else not far from my mind. I’d been taking care of her for six months now, and I had no plans on changing that anytime soon. I was in limbo with both of them—so unsure about the future and so worried about the present.
Does it ever get easier?
Love never came easy, and I learned that at far too young an age from our parents. Love could be as toxic as drugs. It lured you in until you were addicted and then owned every last part of you until nothing was left. Love destroyed my parents.
In the end, love didn’t conquer all and ultimately ruined our family.
Isla and I had gotten close, or as close as one could get without her actually speaking to me. I couldn’t help but wonder what she and Kraven were up to, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious about them spending time alone together.
I can trust my brother, right?
Considering that, most of the time, he made the worst possible choices.
I felt like Isla was finally beginning to show me a side of her she’d never shown anyone, and I looked forward to coming home to learn whatever I could about her. She was a damn good cook and kept the house spotless. There wasn’t a corner she hadn’t cleaned.
She was intuitive.
Empathetic.
Sad.
I’d catch her out on the back porch sometimes with her earphones in, staring up at the sky, listening to the music that soothed her mind. I recognized it all too clearly. Only adding to the realness between us. We were both lost souls, and maybe that was where our deep connection resonated from.
At some point, I’d have to discuss what happened next with each of them. Hopefully, it’d be sooner rather than later. One thing was for sure: I had to hear her voice. I needed to communicate with her, but mostly, I just needed to hear my name from her mouth. It was a conversation I’d have to start with both of them, and I had no idea where to begin.
Shaking off the unsteadiness, I continued to walk down a long, narrow hallway that was nearly pitch black until I approached the double doors of Marco’s office. They were open, revealing a massive area with a black leather couch to the right and floor-to-ceiling bookcases lining the walls. There was a wet bar near the mahogany desk where he was sitting.
There were no windows.
No light.
No visible exits except the one I came in through, with several cameras aimed right at me.
I nodded to them. “Always a pleasure.”
He leaned back in his chair, his golden-blond hair like a halo crowning his head while long fingertips gripped a glass of whiskey.
“Sit,” he greeted.
His grin was a bit too menacing.
His demeanor was a little too relaxed.
I braced myself for what would come, fully aware it’d lead me down a road to nowhere, yet I willingly took a seat.
His intense, ominous brown stare narrowed in, focused solely on me, while two other men stood on each side of him.
