Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(9)

“Is your papa inside? I need to speak with him,” he asks.

I nod, and he immediately walks inside, so I stroll behind him while simultaneously signaling to Hanson that I have no clue what’s going on.

When my papa sees me with my uncle, though … I have never seen his eyes turn that cold that quickly.

“Josiah? What are you doing here?” he asks with an obvious sneer. He clutches the counter as he walks in front of it. “Brandon, c’mere boy.”

“It’s Uncle Jo. Aren’t you happy to see him?” I ask, confused.

“Come. Here.” The frown on my papa’s face completely sours my mood.

After a reluctant glance at my uncle, I make my way over to my papa. What happened between them? All I know is that we were one big happy family when we left the reserve.

My papa clears his throat. “Hanson, you can go home now.”

Hanson makes a face. “But I thought we were supposed to—”

“You’re done for today,” my papa says resolutely.

“Okay,” Hanson says, side-eyeing me. He shrugs and drops everything he was doing. “See ya tomorrow.”

After he’s gone, I frown and glare at Uncle Jo and then my papa. They’re staring uncomfortably at one another.

“Nice shop you got here,” Uncle Jo says, playing with some of the items on the shelves.

“Go to the back,” my papa whispers at me.

“Why? I’m old enough to know what’s going on, Papa,” I say.

“Not. Now,” he hisses. “Uncle Jo and I have some business to take care of.”

Sighing out loud, I say, “Fine.”

I go to the back of the shop, but my dad didn’t say I couldn’t listen to their conversation from behind the doorway.

What? I’m not perfect.

Besides, this is way too important to miss.

“So how’s Brandon doing at school?” Uncle Jo asks. “Straight A’s?”

“He’s doing fine,” my papa replies without any emotion. It’s like he hates talking about me or something.

“Great to hear. Business good too?”

“We manage,” my papa answers, then he clears his throat. “Let’s not pretend you’re actually interested.”

“Oh, c’mon now. Course I am. Just because you’ve moved out doesn’t mean you’re not part of the family anymore.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Something jingles. Sounds like the cash register.

“Here,” Papa says. “That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?”

“Well …”

“I don’t need the lies, please,” my papa says. “Just take it.”

“I’m glad you’re ready to pay off the loan.”

Loan? What loan? Since when does my papa take money from people? Why don’t I know any of this? Fuck.

“Happy to do business with you,” Uncle Jo says. I don’t even need to see him to know he’s smiling. But it’s not a good one, that I can tell.

“That’s the last of it, right?” my papa asks.

“Of course. But if you ever need more, you know where to find me.”

“I’ll pass on that offer, thank you,” my papa replies, his voice just as stern as when he badgers me about something bad I did. “Goodbye.”

He’s sure quick to cut the conversation short.

“Good luck with the shop, Ahiga.”

Ahiga? Since we’ve moved here, no one ever calls my papa by his Native name.

Everything goes silent until a final jingle is audible.

After a few more seconds of waiting, my papa suddenly says, “You can come out now.”

Shit.

I enter the room again. My papa doesn’t look too pleased when he sees me. “Sorry,” I say, trying not to anger him even more.

“It’s okay,” he says, blinking a couple of times. “It’s only natural for you to be curious. Especially with family.” He swallows after saying that last word.

“How did you know?” I ask.

He snorts. “Like I wasn’t young once too.” He puts his hand on my cheek and squeezes softly.

I lean back and cringe. “Papa, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know … I know. You’ve grown up so fast.”

“Why was Uncle Jo asking for money?” I ask.

“Ah, it’s no big deal,” my papa says, looking away. “He just came to collect the debt I owed.”

Debt. That sounds harsh.

“Why did you owe him?” I keep asking. “Papa? Did he … own this shop?”

“He doesn’t. It’s in my name. But he did give me the money to buy it.” He clears his throat. “But that’s all in the past now. I don’t want you to worry about anything.”

He smiles, but it’s a reluctant one. Like a mask he hides behind.

He always says those words, but they’re never true.

And judging from how they parted ways, I wonder if I’m ever going to see Uncle Jo again.

“Is Uncle Jo ever coming back to visit us? Are we ever going back to the reserve?” I ask. “What about the rest of our family?”

“Perhaps … it’s probably for the best …” My papa angles his head and places a hand on my shoulder. “But you don’t need them, Brandon. You have me. And you have your friend … what’s his name?”