“Oh, sure.” I laugh shortly. “Just like it wasn’t your business to tell Poppy my whole fucking life story.”
“I didn’t tell her your whole life story. And anyway, there’s nothing to be ashamed—”
“If you think this is about shame, then you don’t know me half as well as you think you do.” I’m breathing hard. Kiara’s dark eyes take me in cautiously. The pity in them turns my stomach sour. She half-reaches out, but I slide away before she can try to rope me into a hug. “That wasn’t your story to tell.”
“Maybe I don’t know you as well as I think I do anymore,” she says in a frosty voice. “You’re the one who let himself become a stranger.”
“And what, you thought you’d punish me by sharing my past?”
“Of course not! Forgive me for assuming you told the woman you’re working and living with about how you grew up.” She crosses her arms, hip cocked, looking so much like Sal in the set of her mouth that I can’t stand it. “If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not going to get one.”
“We’re barely living together.”
“She could be back at her apartment, but she’s not.”
I scowl. “It’s easier this way.”
“What’s so bad about her knowing? It doesn’t make anything different.”
I can’t possibly begin to explain the tangled mess of emotions fighting with each other in my mind. I rub my chest, shutting my eyes. How can I articulate the shame of knowing I wasn’t truly wanted by anyone until I was practically an adult? That I threw my one chance at a family away, and ran rather than try to repair it? That Poppy can’t understand being in the world alone, and howresentful it makes me feel, even though I’m drawn to her more than anyone, ever?
“Chester, give us a moment,” I hear Kiara say.
I open my eyes. “You hurt her, and I’ll break both your kneecaps and cut off your balls with a rusty spatula.”
Chester nods. “Fair.”
“Oh my god,” Kiara says, rolling her eyes. “Just go into the kitchen, babe.”
“Babe?” I repeat once we’re alone. “You’ve progressed to pet names? How long has this been going on?”
“Like you didn’t encourage him.”
“I didn’t realize he would actually—”
“Well, I like him.” Kiara takes one of my hands in both of hers. “And I can tell you like Poppy. That’s okay.”
I slump, the fight going out of me. “She isn’t who I expected her to be.”
Her mouth twitches. “Understatement of the century.”
“I didn’t think she’d stick around,” I admit. “I was hard on her—I’m still hard on her. I thought she’d run back to New York.” And now I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t see her fishtail braids every time I stepped into the kitchen.
“But she’s still here.”
“She is. And she’s doing an amazing job.”
“Sometimes you don’t know who’s going to have an impact on you. It’s not like you can predict a connection.”
By the tone of her voice, I’d bet she’s thinking about her and her dad, as well. When I started working at Sailfish, I didn’t expect it to be anything more than a punishment, and later, a job. A way to get out of the group home as much as possible, because I could only stand the fighting and bullying for so long. The more time I spent with the Torreses, the more relaxed I became. I felt like I belonged for the first time in my life—not just in the kitchen, but in Sal’s home.
“I guess.”
“The more you push people away, the worse off you’ll be, Jack.”
Still holding my hand, she guides me to the kitchen. Chester’s atthe kitchen island, arms crossed, worry knitting his brows together. I settle beside him uneasily. Kiara pokes around in the fridge, pulling out a few beers.
“Are you hungry?” she asks.
