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“You’re starting to grow a belly.” She smiles sweetly. “To the gym!”
“I will, if you join me for some cardio exercise.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.
My eyes quickly dart to the table, ignoring their apparent flirting. Sometimes they forget that they have a teenager living under their roof now. Uncle Ben and Aunt Naveah have been married for twenty years now, but I still catch them giving each other lovey-dovey eyes and they flirt as if they are still in high school.
I guess the love between them hasn’t faded away in all the years they have been together. I don’t think I believe in true love, but seeing them together — it’s hard to deny that true love probably does exist.
Maybe just not for me.
But for them? Yeah.
I cut the grilled chicken into precise pieces before taking a small bite. It’s soft, tender and flavorful. Aunt Naveah says that if she wasn’t a doctor, she would have chosen to become a chef.
I bet she’d make a really good one.
“Grayson.” I lift my head at Uncle Ben’s voice. “Has your father tried to get in contact with you again?”
Oh shit.
He asks the question innocently, but I can almost sense an underlying warning in it. Uncle Ben knew when my father was released from prison, and he warned me that Harrison would probably come looking for me. He was not wrong.
I chew on the chicken and then swallow. “Yesterday,” I tell him truthfully. There’s no point lying to Uncle Ben; he always finds out the truth eventually. And to be honest, I don’t want to screw with him. Not because he’s a powerful man. But because I respect him.
“I was jogging at the park and he found me. Uhm, we talked for a bit. He says that he would like to have lunch with me some time, if I choose to.”
Harrison Avery is persistent, I’ll give him that.
Too bad I don’t trust him.
Aunt Naveah grimaces, but she doesn’t say anything. Uncle Ben is quiet for a minute. The sound of our silver cutlery clinking against our porcelain plates fills the silence.
Once our plates and the table are cleared, Aunt Naveah brings out her infamous apple pie. “Extra cinnamon, just for you,” she says, with a twinkle in her brown eyes.
“You are a smart young man,” Uncle Ben finally speaks, and when he does, it’s with utmost confidence and self-assurance in his tone. He truly does have the power to control the whole room with his voice. “Mature for your age. I will not control you and neither will I make decisions for you. You are mature enough to know what’s right and what’s wrong. And I trust you to make the right decisions. We trust you.”
My heart stammers in my chest.
The last person who ever had any kind of trust in me was my sister.
“Thank you.” I swallow and then exhale shakily. “I understand. I will never break your trust, Sir.”
“Uncle Ben,” he says gruffly.
I nod. “Okay.” He stares at me expectantly. “Uncle Ben.”
It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. In my head, I have been calling them Uncle Ben and Aunt Naveah, but every time I speak to them, it is either Sir or Ma’am, slipping past my lips. They’ve tried to correct me many times, but it just never feels right.
Until today.
Until now.
Uncle Ben leans back in his chair and wraps his arm around the back of Aunt Naveah’s. His fingers brush against her shoulders with a soothing touch, rubbing back and forth in circles.
They’ve both got the goofiest grins on their faces.
I shove another spoonful of pie into my mouth, to hide my own relieved smile.
CHAPTER TWELVE
