Survivor (First to Fight #2)(9)
I curse my mother, Jack, and every other trick of fate that landed me back in this godforsaken town. When I turn back to Donnie, he flicks his eyes up at me and then follows his brother without a word.
Some family reunion.
She lasts longer than I expected she would. The boys rush by the kitchen door and out the back, their shouts loud and angry. Sofie follows close behind, her face a crumbling mask that does little to hide her volatile emotions.
“What was the point of putting us through that?” she whispers vehemently, her brown eyes flashing. “They barely even know me and what little they do know, they can’t stand.”
“They’re teenagers. They can’t stand much of anything.”
Sofie lifts her hair off of her shoulders and shakes it out. “Now that we’ve concluded this entirely pointless excursion, will you please let me have my stuff so I can get out of here?”
“I have some things to say first and then I will.” I hold up a hand to stave off her tirade. “Just shut up and listen.” Her eyes widen and I continue, “Those boys may not be able to stand you, but what you seem to forget is you’re the only family they have. What do you think is going to happen to them when you leave here, huh?”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off with a hard look. “Hate me, hate this place, your life, I don’t give a f*ck, but they should not pay for your bullheadedness.”
“May I talk now?” she cuts in.
I gesture with a hand.
“They will be fine,” she says. “They can go live with Aunt Marci. Mom always said if anything ever happened to us, Marci would take care of us.”
“Baby, your Aunt Marci has advancing Alzheimer’s. She can’t even take care of herself right now.”
Sofie stumbles backward, catches herself with a hand on the edge of the breakfast table. “So what…what are you saying here exactly?”
I let her work through to the obvious answer. She starts shaking her head. “You can’t mean that I’m supposed to take care of them.” A hollow laugh explodes from her chest. “You can’t be serious.”
“Look, Sof, the truth is, there is no one else. They’re not going to give two kids to someone who isn’t family. I’m a single guy who lives above a gym. I do okay, but no court will give me custody. Your parents don’t have any other able-bodied, living relatives. If you don’t take them, they’ll go into foster care.” I let that sink in for a second. “Do I need to have Livvie explain to you why that’s not a good idea?”
“Jack, I don’t know a single thing about taking care of teenagers. I live in a loft in the city. I don’t keep regular hours. I’m a hacker, I never go out. I have my laundry done for me. You remember how bad my cooking was! If they give those boys to me, they’d have food poisoning within a week!”
“It’s not about you. It’s not about me,” I say gently, recognizing the panic in her eyes. Even though I curse myself for it, I cross the kitchen and do something I haven’t done in a long time. I pull her into my arms and rest my chin on her head. “Think about it, okay?”
“They’d probably be better off with a nice foster family,” she mutters into my shirt.
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
“You might.”
With effort, I step back and put a good three feet of space in between us. “Whatever made you leave Nassau before doesn’t matter. There are two kids who have no place to go. If you decide not to take them, then you’re going to be the one who tells them, because I’m sure as hell not going to be associated with such a shitty memory.”
Her shoulders slump and she glances out the kitchen window where the boys are chasing each other. “When do I have to decide?” she asks.
“Their social worker is coming to finalize everything next week, so you have this weekend to make up your mind before they place them in foster care.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“Your mother placed me as executor of her estate.”
“Jesus.” Sofie peers around the room. “What about the house? What’s going to happen to it?”
I wait until she turns back to face me. God, she looks just like she did when we were younger. Her game face is gone and even though she’s costumed up in a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, I can see her vulnerability shining through the fa?ade. “She left the house to you,” I say.
Her hands ball up and press to her stomach and she doubles over like she’s in pain. I take a few tentative steps in her direction, but she holds up a hand, sniffling. “I’m all right,” she says, but her voice is shaky at best.
I go to the fridge and get a jug of tea someone made up and left. I can’t find any cups so I grab a mason jar from the dish drainer and fill it to the brim with ice and tea, then hand it to her. She accepts the cup with two hands and brings it to her lips for a long gulp.
“She told me to tell you that if you wanted to sell it, that she wouldn’t mind.” Sofie takes that like a blow, staggering back against the kitchen table. “But she said if you wanted to keep it for you and your brothers, there will be enough money from her life insurance to fix it up again.”
Sofie holds up a hand. “Stop.” Her voice is faint and it cracks midway through the word.