His face is all tension, and I can see in his eyes the internal war he’s fighting, until finally he says, “Just like your brother, I’m trying to protect you by not talking about my work.”
“Ethan’s not just trying to protect me. He refuses to accept I’ve grown up.”
He sighs and nods. “We’re not just a regular security company, Lilly.”
“I already figured that out.”
“You did?”
“Of course. You guys need to give me a little more credit. I know you employ hundreds of people, so the two partners shouldn’t have to go out in the field. And yet, both you and my brother are constantly flying off toGod-knows-where.”
He looks at me, surprised, and I feel a little proud of myself.
“What else do you know?” he asks, cautiously.
“That’s it. As for the rest, I hope you’ll tell me.”
Chapter 40
You don’t have to do this,a voice warns.Why involve her if what you two have won’t last?
It would be a perfectly valid reason not to tell Lilly what we do in our company—especially when it comes to children connected to my past. But right now, I can’t bring myself to deny her at least part of the truth.
“I won’t tell you about my work,” I begin, “and that has nothing to do with treating you like a child. It’s for your protection.”
“Then what are we doing here?” she asks, visibly upset again.
I brought her back to the kitchen because the bedroom isn’t the right place to revisit the memories this conversation will bring. “This is non-negotiable, Lilly. I’ll tell you what I did on my last trip and how it ties directly to my past. But not everything about what Ethan and I do.”
She presses her lips together, clearly wanting to argue, but then she just nods. “Okay.”
I serve her coffee and place the omelet I made in front of her. I pour a cup for myself too, but that’s all—I won’t be able to eat.
“To explain this last trip—and why I went straight to the shower last night—I need to tell you about my past.”
She nods, her delicate fingers gripping the coffee mug tightly.
“Before I begin, answer something for me: have you ever considered that maybe you’re not ready to know everything about me?”
“I’m not fragile. Don’t underestimate me, Amos. I was raised by Nora. No one survives her without some serious inner strength.”
“I never said you were fragile, but that doesn’t mean you have to see the filth of the world.”
“Filth?”
I decide to reveal part of the truth. “I’m adopted,” I start slowly. “My last parents were my fifth or sixth family,” I say casually, trying to show that being rejected so many times didn’t matter.
She reaches for my hand across the table, and if it were anyone else, I’d pull back—I don’t accept pity. But her expression doesn’t show an ounce of that. All I see is understanding, so I don’t move.
“I read about that once—people who adopt children and then return them. It’s so awful I don’t even know what to say. I think deciding to bring someone into your home who isn’t your biological child is huge. You can’t take it lightly. I can’t even imagine what it must’ve meant to be sent back.”
“By the last ones, I didn’t expect anything anymore. I already counted on it,” I say, offering as little as possible.
“I can imagine. But you know what?” she says, fiddling with the mug handle. “I think some people just weren’t meant to be parents but insist on it anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a biological child, but that didn’t spare me from a loveless life.” Her counterpoint surprises me.
