Page 17 of Start A War (Saint View Psychos)

“Now do we sit?” Kellan whisper-shouted at Vincent.

I covered a giggle while Vincent pulled a second chair out for Kellan. “Yes, little friend. Now we sit. Let’s find out what Spider-Man is up to today. Perhaps he has some citizens who require saving?” Vincent took some Barbie dolls from a set of labeled drawers behind him and placed them on the table.

Kellan’s big round eyes turned squinty. “Citizens?”

“People,” I interpreted for him.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so? Spider-Man to the rescue!”

Kellan crashed his figurine with the Barbies, and Vincent found some other toys to add to the game. Within minutes, the two of them drew the attention of several other kids, until Vincent led a full table in a make-believe, role-playing game. He guided their creativity and encouraged their ideas, no matter how crazy they were. I gave up on the notion of actually asking him any formal questions and just sat back to watch.

Sarah swung by on her way to the baby changing table and leaned down to murmur in my ear, “He’s good.”

I nodded.

Everything was going well, and I was pleased that I could confidently tell Josie that Vincent would be a great addition to the team.

A sob suddenly formed in my throat out of nowhere. And a rush of emotion sent water welling in my eyes.

No. No, no, no. I’d promised myself this morning that I wasn’t going to bring last night to work. I couldn’t think about it here. I’d been actively pushing it out of my brain all morning, and succeeding, but I’d let my guard down, watching Vincent with the kids.

I’d stopped fighting it for one moment, and that was all the trauma needed to worm its way through my defenses.

I fought to swallow it down, but it was a losing battle.

Vincent’s head snapped up from the middle of his game, his gaze instantly attentive to me. He glanced at Sarah, busy with the babies, and then at his little posse of four-year-olds.

I sucked in a wobbly breath and stood quickly, excusing myself and scurrying for the safety of the office where I could fall apart for a second.

I closed the door behind me and kept my back to it while the tears spilled over my cheeks. The ache spread across my chest, as well as the guilt, and the shame. It all attacked me at once, seeing its chance to bring me down, and pouncing on it.

The door opened quietly behind me, bumping me out of the way. I swiped furiously at my eyes, not wanting Sarah to see me cry.

“You’re upset.”

I choked and spun around, only to find myself staring up at Vincent rather than Sarah. In the small office, I realized how tall he was, but it was his expression that nearly undid me.

Instead of the awkward, disingenuous sympathy a stranger would have normally shown, Vincent’s eyes were dark and angry. His gaze focused hard on me, taking in my tears that had probably smudged my eyeliner. They lingered on my cheekbone, and I quickly raised a hand to cover the bruising that might have been exposed by my running makeup.

I forced a fake smile, but I couldn’t hold it. The tears kept coming.

Vincent stood glued to his spot, not saying a word, but not looking for an escape either. In the silence, the story burst from my chest. “I’m so sorry. My brother died last night, and I haven’t had time to process it.”

Vincent didn’t utter a sound. So I just kept going.

“I saw his body. It was horrible, and I don’t know how to keep the image out of my mind. He didn’t just die, you see. He was murdered. It was graphic and sickening and…I’m so very sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

I wiped my fingers beneath my eyes once more and gulped in hicuppy breath. “You have the job, by the way. You’re great with the kids. They already love you. When can you start? I mean, if you still want the job? I promise, this is a one-off. I do not make a habit of having breakdowns at work.”

Vincent’s gaze flickered over my face, continually landing on my hand covering my cheek.

He knew.

I could tell from the look in his eyes.

“Thank you for the job offer,” he said stiffly.

The silence rang out between us.

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