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Dad: Come on, Dean. Please. They’re going to hurt me if I don’t get them the money.

This guy. “Told you to block his number.”

A shiver passes through him. “I’d feel awful doing that. He wasn’t always like this, you know? He’s the only family I have left. What would you do if it was your momma?”

I’m your family.

“My mom never asked me to steal from my friends because she couldn’t make rent or tried to get me to throw a game or threw a whiskey bottle at my head. All that man ever did since you were old enough for it to matter was use you. Whatever he’s asking you for, that’s money you can’t use for Ella. So who’s more important?”

“You know the answer.”

“Then block his damn number. He’s not allowed to contact you again.”

After a moment of hesitation, he nods. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right.” I slap him on the shoulder. “Better get dressed for your date. I’m going to pick up Ella.”

He gets himself moving with all the coordination of a newborn foal, then turns to me with a frown. “You’re not going to do something? Punish me again? Fuck up my date after I fucked up so many of yours?”

“Guess I should.” All the anger I’ve carried around, where is it now? “Honestly, I’m a little impressed. When we were in school you couldn’t remember a single one of your professors’ names, but you remembered three of my clients’ names?”

His face gets red again. “Uh. Five.”

“Fuck.” I point my finger at him. “Don’t do anything like that again. I’m not kidding. If it came down to it I could afford to leave this business behind, but you can’t risk yourself like that. Please. These people have money and lawyers, and if Brennan didn’t shoot you he’d at least feel like he needed to make an example of you.”

Dean’s face softens. The moment he puts his hand on my cheek, there’s a palpable thing between us, an affection that’s new, in spite of all our history.

“I really am sorry,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“We’ll discuss it more later. Go on your date. So long as you don’t get into anything romantic with anyone, we’ll be fine.”

“Are you saying⁠—”

What I’m saying is we don’t have time to sort out the mess of our relationship. Not now.

“Get dressed. I’ll pick up Ella.” I’m not ready to answer his question, so I head for the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Michael

The trailer I’m looking at has seen better days. As in, someone should have demolished it years ago. Dean felt embarrassed to show me the outside, let alone the inside, when he first brought me here.

At the time it only made me want him more. Seeing the dilapidated place my then-roommate had grown up in, the exposed light sockets, the jagged bits of wood on the steps, the garbage everywhere, made me want to take him home to meet my family.

Give him a taste of something good. Even then, I wanted to share my life with him.

How the fuck was I supposed to know that would be the thing that ruined us all?

Apparently, while I was away at school freshman year, my nerdy big sister who’d always cared more about science than boys had changed her mind. Maybe she was a late bloomer, but when she bloomed, she went big.

When Dean fucked Billie, he fucked us all.

Funny. Thinking about it doesn’t burn like it used to. We’ve all made choices we’d take back if we could.

Since I was last here, time has done this place no favors. One window is broken, covered with plastic. Several pieces of the exterior are stapled over with flimsy pressed boards.

This place is the very definition of neglect. One good, hard storm and this place will be in pieces on the ground. It should be.