“But I rarely got anything for myself. Straight A’s? Full-ride scholarship? Perfect SAT score? Prestigious schools competing for me? None of it mattered to them. Joey was all that mattered.”
Without thinking, he kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, little spy. I have two younger sisters, and while sometimes it felt like they were favored, I knew in my heart it was that my dad was old-fashioned, and he wanted to protect his girls. He worried they didn’t get enough attention, especially without a mom in the picture.”
“It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that Joey had serious issues. It was the typical story. He got into a bad crowd that had absentee parents. He wanted to fit in and be seen as a cool kid, but he had parents who actually gave a shit about him, so he started acting out. Drinking in middle school. Shoplifting. Tagging. Trespassing. By high school, he was into drugs, and he was running pot and other stuff for some guy who couldn’t get to the high school kids as easily as Joey could.
“One day, I finally snapped. My mother found rainbow fentanyl in his room. He spun some story for her, which she wanted to believe, but when they fought and he disappeared, once again, it was my fault for filling her head with awful lies about her golden boy because I was jealous. She believed I planted the drugs in his room to try to make him look bad.
“She insisted I go hunt him down and bring him home. I refused. It was midterms, and I was in the middle of exams. I couldn’t go on a wild-goose chase looking for my dumbass brother, who was legally an adult, and maybe he needed to figure out the hard way how to get himself out of trouble. I did something for me, for once, and I refused to go look for him until my exams for the day were finished.”
“Did you find him?”
“Eventually. He called me, begging me to bring him the drugs Mom found. He was in trouble with the dealer, and if he didn’tproduce them, the guy threatened to kill him. He swore he’d go to rehab if I helped him just one more time.”
Triumph shut his eyes, his heart hurting for Glennon. The story was just as bad as he’d feared. Gently, he rolled onto his side, facing her. His arm pulled her a little closer, and he placed a hand on her hip. He squeezed reflexively in commiseration, letting her know he understood her pain.
“You couldn’t have helped him. He wasn’t ready.”
Fuck, did he know about that one. Tripoli’s addiction after being discharged from the military. Tilly’s inability to recover after her kidnapping. Francesca’s never-ending guilt over her family’s part in it. Elyxandre’s struggle with an abusive father and husband. You couldn’t help people until they were ready, no matter how much you wanted to.
“I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier most days.” She sighed, long and loud. “The story ended the only way it could, really. I brought him the drugs, but some gang members came and shot up the drug house he was delivering to. One of his friends survived, but everyone else in the house, including Joey, died. They never caught the gang members who did it. All they could figure out was that they were under the umbrella of a cartel out of South America.”
“The Colonels,” he guessed.
“Yes. After my professor made the introductions, the CIA wooed me into taking a job with them with the promise that I could help them root out the cartel responsible for my brother’s death, and I took the job. I thought maybe, if I could catch Joey’s killers, my parents would forgive me for my part in his death.”
“That’s not fair. It wasn’t your fault Joey got involved in drugs or dealing. You couldn’t have saved him from the fate he was dealt.”
“Didn’t matter,” she said tiredly. “They didn’t see it that way. Somehow, I was supposed to keep my brother off the drugs. Savemy brother that night. Stop those men from killing him. I have a sneaking suspicion that even if I brought down the cartel, it wouldn’t be enough for them. Joey would still be gone, and I, the worthless older sister, would still be to blame.”
Framing her face again in his hands, he stared into her eyes with a grave expression.
“You listen to me, and you listen good, Glennon. You are not to blame. Not even a smidgen. The timing sucked since it was the one time you stood up for yourself, but Joey put himself on his own path to destruction, not you. Your parents should have seen the mess it was making of you and him, and they chose to bury their heads in the sand. They failed as parents, but it was easier to put the blame on someone else to ease their own consciences. You didn’t fail Joey, you didn’t fail your parents, and you sure as shit didn’t fail yourself.”
“Part of me knows that’s true,” she admitted. “But part of me will always wonder if they wished I’d been killed that night. Even if Joey had died, their issue of a disappointing daughter would also have been resolved.”
Her quiet admission, rife with pain, delivered a painful blow to his heart. She truly believed that.
AND TAKE
Glennon
His lips touched her forehead,lingering several seconds before pulling away.
Their eyes met.
It felt as if she were watching what happened next from outside herself, yet she could still feel his touch. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones. His soft lips pressed against her own. His warm breath fluttered over her skin. The comforting connection as his lips brushed hers again, the contact prolonged this time.
Her eyes closed as she lay frozen, reliving the touch of his mouth. The warmth she felt from his body. The sense of care and concern emanating from him to her, down some invisible conduit linking them together.
His voice was soft as he apologized. “I really shouldn’t have done that.”
Now she opened her eyes. Regret lined his expression and his words. Tears wanted to burst from her eyes with the anguish his apology provoked. Of course he wouldn’t want to kiss her.She was a cartel whore. Clearly, she misunderstood his meaning when they sat at the dinner table. It was best to keep in mind that there was nothing about her worth wanting anymore, unless he wanted a physical thank-you for saving her.
She buried the pain and the tears, locking her body into a stiffened position, as if to convey that his gesture meant nothing.
“What was that thought?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?”
