“I thought you didn’t want to know about them.”
“I do now,” I snap, but immediately regret it. “Shit. I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know ... I know I’ve said that in the past, but that was then. I need to know now. I’m ready now.”
Alejandro pulls in a breath and adjusts his position to sit beside me with his back against the headboard. His response is nonchalant. “Your dad’s dead. He was found hanging from the ceiling fan in his bedroom.”
“I guess some monsters do die.” My voice is distant, like it doesn’t belong to me. “How long ago?”
“Exactly one year after you ran away.”
A hollow half-laugh escapes me. “Happy anniversary to me.”
He grunts.
After a moment, I turn my head to look my cousin in the eye. “And my mom? Is she ... is she ... ?”
There’s a long pause before he mutters, “I don’t know.”
Fear and hope tangle like a sticky web in my chest. “You don’t know?”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t been able to find her.”
A fresh sting builds behind my eyes. I close them and lie back, sinking into the pillow. “That’s okay. She’s okay,” I assure him, myself.
“Evangeline,” my cousin says softly. “You know I can make him disappear for good.”
I don’t open my eyes.
“Just say the word.”
Dark, greedy temptation stirs to life at the thought, but I quickly put out the flame. “As if you haven’t already done enough for my family,” I whisper, a traitorous tear spilling over my lashes. “We got you sent to prison once. I could never do that to you again.”
“Hey.” Fingers touch my chin, lift it. He waits patiently for me to look at him. “Your mother was more than an aunt to me. She raised me too for a while. I’d kill her brother all over again if I could go back, except I’d do it sooner, before he ever pimped her out.” His lips press into a tight line, voice lowering to a soft growl. “I would’ve killed your dad myself too if she hadn’t begged me not to.”
A dry sound escapes me. “You talk like you can just go around killing anyone you don’t like.”
“Not anyone.” The dangerous edge in his eyes raises the hair on the back of my neck. “Just those who hurt the ones I love and get away with it.”
I squint, searching his face. New scars pepper his skin: two slashing his left eyebrow, one across his bottom lip. The tattoos on his neck almost hide a nasty mark beneath his jaw.
I swallow. “Alejandro. What are you up to? Why does everyone seem so scared of you?”
His lips twitch, but there’s no humor in the expression. Only dark, deep shadows, the kind that haunt little girls’ dreams. “Don’t worry about me, little cousin,” he says lazily and rests his head against the headboard. “I make my choices, like you make yours.” He scans the bedroom, eyes narrowing. “Speaking of choices ...”
His focus settles on a picture of Easton, probably no more than ten years old. Isaac is grinning beside him, saying something that made Easton laugh. They look so carefree, so happy. The photo captures a moment I could never have been a part of.
“Can you guess what kind of thoughts ran through my head when I went to your window first and saw an empty room?” His gaze slides to mine. “Do I want to know why you’re sleeping in your new brother’s bed?”
I chew my lip, still staring at the photograph. “Probably not.”
My cousin tilts his head, and I force my gaze back to his. Worry etches into taut lines on his face.
“He’s good, Alejandro.” My voice cracks. “So good.”
This time, when his lips tip up, it’s enough to reveal the dimple on his right cheek. The smile transforms his entire face from dangerous to gentle.
His thumb strokes the side of my face. “Who’s soft now, little cuz?”
I smile. “Shut up.”
