My sister died of an accidental drug overdose ten days before her eighteenth birthday seven years ago.
No one outside of my grandmother and the people in our small town knows anything about Melodie’s death, except for Graham, because I was a wreck for a good portion of grad school. And I don’t think Ben knows anything about my personal life outside of the office.
As blandly as I can make the sound of my voice, I ask, “What are volunteers expected to do?”
He runs his fingertips over the keyboard and taps away to bring up the information he needs, reading it aloud.
“They will assign volunteers to various tasks, including cooking, cleaning, assisting with art and craft projects, helping with career mentoring, etcetera.”
He levels me with his steely gaze. “You’d be an excellent mentor.”
I choke out a laugh. “If you say so. I know nothing about kids, though. I’m not exactly the best communicator.”
Ben leans back in his chair, dubiously staring at me, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re kidding me, right? Graham is always remarking how great you are with bringing on new clients, and they rave about your ability to solve problems and clarify the terms of their financial investments.”
“Well, yeah,” I concur because that is true. I’m damn good at my job and have earned the accolades and praise.
But teens? I couldn’t even fucking get the truth from my own teenage sister much less communicate with troubled youth I don’t have any relationship with.
I frown. “But this is different. Kids are different.”
Ben’s quiet for a moment but finally runs a tongue under his front lip and leans forward.
“Listen, Miles. I don’t want to make you or anyone else uncomfortable. That’s not the point. But these kids, they don’t have anyone else. What you’re giving them is your time and attention. You’d be connecting with someone who might otherwise be out on the streets, alone and feeling unwanted. Just being there proves you care, and that’s what they need.”
Well, shit. When he puts it that way, how can I refuse?
Agreeing, I nod and stretch out my hand to shake his. “Fine, you’ve recruited me. Which, I might add, I’m pretty impressed at how smoothly and easily you roped me in.”
Ben chuckles and throws his head back in amusement. When he returns his gaze, and we make eye contact, he asks, “Hey, I didn’t mean to dominate this conversation. You came by for something else. What was it you wanted to see me about?”
Suddenly, my mouth dries up, and I reconsider asking Ben anything about Sutton. Does it really matter at this point? What would I even do with that intel? A relationship is out of the question. She’s far too young for me, and I’m not interested in starting anything with the demands of my work schedule.
I wouldn’t mind hooking up with her, and maybe she’d be open to having a fun, neighborly fuck-buddy arrangement before Graham and Soraya return home from their trip. We could leave it at that, and she’d return to whatever she did before.
I give myself a mental bitch slap because that sounds callous and sordid even to me. But I honestly don’t know what it is about her that calls to me. That’s why I’m compelled to know more about Sutton.
There’s something there that just keeps tugging at me like the edge of a dream. She’s familiar. She brings out a long-dormant part of me—and I want to understand it. To either turn it up or turn it off completely.
Biting the bullet, I indulge in my original decision to ask Ben about his cousin.
“There’s this weird six-degrees of separation between you, me, and oddly enough, your cousin, Sutton.” Ben tips his head, expressing his interest in where I’m going with this. I clear my throat. “She’s dog sitting for Graham while he’s out of the country. Which puts her right next door to me at the moment. Small world, huh?”
A smile so warm and genuine lights up Ben’s face, it makes me wonder if he’s in love with his own cousin, as absurd as that might seem. Crazier things have happened, right? If it weren’t a thing, then why is there something called “kissing cousins”?
“You know Sutton?” he asks, clearly amused by this knowledge. “Ah, man. Isn’t she the greatest? I’m so glad it worked out for her with Graham because she was really freaking out about where she would live or how she would make ends meet for school this fall.”
A scowl forms at the edges of my mouth, and my brows furrow. “School? She’s still in college?”
I know Sutton is younger than me by a few years, but I have no clue how old she really is. When I first met her, the night of the fire, she looked wide-eyed and young, and I estimated her to be around twenty, maybe twenty-one tops.
Ben shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in grad school at NYU. She’s almost twenty-five, but it’s taken her a little longer to finish her masters. She’s been working on and off to supplement her tuition and living expenses. She was crashing on my couch for a while, but I think she wants her own place. I don’t blame her. Sleeping on my couch can’t be comfortable.”
“She doesn’t have any other family here in New York?” I ask, prying even further into her family situation, but trying not to sound creepy.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I’m so vested in learning about Sutton. I remind myself I’ve just come off an emotionally draining weekend, and it’s probably something to do with that. She’s the age my baby sister would be if she were still alive. I shouldn’t find her remotely interesting or have any feeling for Sutton.
