Ben flicks his gaze to me. “I do understand. I just hate the idea of not being here when you need me.”
“You act like we’re never going to see each other again.” I make a serious face. “Don’t make me stab you. I’m pretty good at it.”
“Lilah…”
“I’m going to get a job and save up for a cellphone, and then we’ll text and call all the time. You just watch.” I lightly punch him in the shoulder. “Then, I’m going to study my ass off to get into that fancy college too. I mean, there has to be a scholarship for people who are smart but poor as fuck, right?”
My foster brother rolls his eyes at me. “How do you think I got in?”
“See?”
“True.”
“What’s that place called again? South Harbor Institute of Technology?” I grin at him, showing my teeth. “I hope so ’cause the acronym is ‘shit.’”
His lips twitch. “You know that’s not the name. It’s called South Harbor University.”
I hang my head. “Yeah, well, Boston is two hours away, which isn’t walkable.”
Ben lifts his arm to run his fingers down my cheek.
I go completely still. It’s not that he’s never touched me before. When he taught me how to throw a punch there was definitely some contact, but that was platonic.
This is… intimate.
“Lilah, I’ll come see you every chance I get, okay?”
I nod and he drops his arm. “I better go check on the girls,” I say. “Are you good? Do you need another ice pack? And by ‘ice pack,’ I mean frozen corn this time.”
He shakes his head with a thin smile. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising. You should see the other guy.”
I wink at him. “Right? I hope you sleep okay. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Thank you,” he says, his voice threaded with emotion. “I mean it.”
“Always. You’d do the same for me.”
“Always.”
After getting to my feet, I head toward the door, keeping my steps even. Nerves skitter along my arms and legs, and it takes everything I have not to run once I’m in the hallway. It’s not just because of my need to check on the girls again. There’s something heavy in the atmosphere. When you’re under a constant threat of danger, you learn to trust your instincts more.
And people less.
The house—that’s more of a two-story shack—takes on a life of its own at night. The warped floorboards groan as I make my way down the narrow hallway to the girls’ room. I strain to pick up on any unusual sounds that could indicate Frank’s intent on revenge, but there’s nothing except my light footsteps and the hum of distant traffic.
I grab the doorknob and slowly twist it. Opening the door a crack, I peer inside, my gaze landing on the single twin mattress that takes up most of the tiny room. Emily and Sandra are curled up together like a pair of kittens. Their adorable faces are at ease despite the monsters lurking in the night.
Specifically, the one downstairs.
Relief loosens the tightness in my chest at finding them peacefully asleep. Neither of them have shared whatever horrors they experienced before coming to live with me in this foster home, but at eleven and nine years old, they carry a worldliness about them that breaks my heart. Even so, they’ve blossomed under my and Ben’s protection and love.
“I’ll keep you safe,” I whisper, more to myself than them. It’s a promise that I’ve dedicated my life to. In the next three years, I might end up sacrificing it, but I’m okay with the idea of dying for the girls.
I’ve never had anyone besides Ben willing to do that for me, and I’ve made my peace with it. Getting lucky enough to have him as my foster brother almost makes all the bad things in my life worth it. He’s replaced years of abandonment with a platonic love.
I’ve given up on the dream of a romantic one.
After picking up a doll bed, one of the girls’ few toys, I close the door and head toward my room. The knife that I stabbed Frank with lies on my nightstand. Even in the darkness, I can make out the red stain coating the blade. I wonder if it’s had enough time to dry…
