Page 106 of Kaine

I take his face in my hands and kiss him. Kiss him until there’s no breath left.

He slides down onto the floor and pulls me down with him, cradling my head on his shoulder, smiling at me.

I reach out, my fingers approaching the left side of his face and he flinches and pulls away.

“Shhhhhh,” I coo, even though he hasn’t said anything. But he knows what I mean. He moves his head closer to me, and nods. I reach out again, slowly, and he closes his eyes.

My fingertips touch the side of his temple, tentative. And I pull back. Letting him adjust.

Then I lower my fingers to his cheek again, tracing the bumpy, jagged lines of his scar. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek and there’s a furrow of his brow, as if he’s imagining the journey my fingers are taking. One he’s taken himself a hundred thousand times. The scar is soft, giving under my touch. I reach the bottom of his jaw, where the jagged skin gives way once more to the smooth lines of his neck.

I move closer and press a kiss to his cheek, and he sighs and opens his eyes.

“My whole family died in a fire when I was nine years old. I was the only one who survived. My mother, my father, and my little sister Gillian. She was five. I was in a coma for two weeks, partly from a severe concussion caused by a part of the ceiling falling on my head just as I was running over to where I thought the rest of my family were. Where they died. I don’t remember it, but I have dreams of it. When I woke up, I’d missed the funeral. I had no one. And no one wanted me.”

I can’t even comprehend the horror of his words. To lose everyone, in that way. At such an age. And then to be completely alone.

I don’t say anything, I can feel more coming.

“My grandparents weren’t well enough to take me and no other family members cared enough to try. I was in the foster system until I was 15. I would say that it was worse than my whole family dying in the fire, but of course nothing can beat that. But it was close.”

“Only 15? Is that when you were working at that paper mill factory in Brooklyn?”

“When I told you I bought that building, I wasn’t telling you everything.”

“The owner? Neil Thompson. He adopted me.”

“I met him through a big brother program and he let me work there, to keep me out of trouble. He found me sleeping behind the wooden piles one day and realized I wasn’t going to school. He said I could continue to work there every afternoon, as long as I provided proof that I’d gone to school that day. By the time I was 18, I was managing the factory. He took me in, clothed me, fed me, taught me. Loved me. The day before I turned 18, Neil legally adopted me. I have two fathers who gave me life.”

“Where is he now?”

“He died from a sudden heart attack when I was 20.”

“Oh my god, Kaine.”

“He left me everything.”

“He didn’t have any family?”

“He has a younger brother, Jacob. They were estranged. Jacob is not a good man and Neil spent most of his life covering for him and bailing him out. But he wouldn’t let Jacob near his company or money. Jacob isn’t thrilled I inherited everything, even though I’ve set him up with a trust fund. He’s gotten more than he ever would have if Neil were still alive.”

“Do you see him?”

“Only now and then when he wants something. He’s greedy but relatively harmless. That is, until now.”

“Why, what happened?”

“It’s... nothing. Just work stuff.”

“Kaine.” I say, a warning tone in my voice, and he lays back down and gives me a sheepish look.

“Sorry. Force of habit. You know my new product?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’ve been getting threatening letters and packages.”

“Kaine! What are they threatening?”