Page 17 of Owl’s Cherished Mate

“And you haven’t said anything to me about it.”

“What would I say?”

“I don’t know. Something. Most people do.” I took a sip of my coffee.

“I’m not most people.”

“No.” I stared at him. “You’re not.”

He lifted his gaze, and his amber eyes held mine. There was nothing in them I needed to defend myself against. No pity. No morbid curiosity. No carefully hidden discomfort. He was just there, listening, not only to what I said, but to everything I didn’t.

The words started coming before I could stop them.

I told him about all the trouble I’d been having with Lawson. Not the version I kept ready for school counselors and social workers so they wouldn’t look at me like I wasn’t handling things well. The real one. The one where my brother looked at me like I was the enemy and I didn’t know how to fix it.

I told him about the school calling because he hadn’t shown up all week. I told him that I’d had no idea he’d been skipping. I’d been oblivious. I told him about the fight. I even told him what Lawson had said—that I’d left, that Darren and Cade were the ones who stayed.

“The worst part is he’s not wrong,” I said. “I did leave. I went to college and I left him there with our dad, who was either absent or too caught up in his illegal doings with Darren to notice his own kid. And Lawson was alone. He was twelve years old and he was alone, and I was two hundred miles away pretending I’d escaped.”

Gray was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Why did you leave?”

“Because if I didn’t, I was going to drown.” The honesty of my answer surprised me. I hadn’t said that out loud before. Not to anyone. “I’d been taking care of Lawson since I was fourteen. Our mom left, and Dad checked out, and I was the one making sure there was food in the house and clean clothes for school. By the time I graduated, I couldn’t breathe. College was the first time I felt like a person instead of a life raft.”

“That’s not something you should apologize for.”

“Tell that to my brother.”

“Your brother is fourteen. He’s angry because the people who were supposed to take care of him didn’t, and you’re the closest person to be angry at.” He paused. “That doesn’t mean he’s right.”

The simplicity of it hit me harder than it should have. I’d been carrying Lawson’s words around like a verdict—guilty as charged, no appeal. Hearing someone say it wasn’t that simple, that I wasn’t the villain in my brother’s story even if he needed me to be right now, loosened something in my chest that had been wound tight for months.

“He thinks Darren and Cade are his family,” I said, setting my coffee down. “He thinks they care about him.”

“What do you think?”

“I think Darren was part of the operation that put my dad in prison, and he walked away without a scratch. I think he’s been hanging around my brother since before the arrest, and now he’s got his nineteen-year-old brother reeling him in even more under the guise of friendship.” I picked at the crust of my pie with the fork. “Cade is the one Lawson actually spends time with. Darren’s the one pulling the strings, though.”

“You think they’re using him.”

“I know they are. I just don’t know for what, and I can’t prove it. Also, Lawson won’t hear it.”

Gray nodded. How was it that he was so easy to talk to? I barely knew him. Yet, here he was, listening to me drone on about my screwed-up life.

When was the last time someone had been there for me like this?

Maribel’s voice drifted through my head—He sees you. Not the name you carry or the past. Just you.

I blinked and looked away, afraid of what my face might be showing.

“Thanks for listening to me ramble,” I said. “I know this is a lot to dump on someone over pie.”

“It’s good pie.”

A laugh escaped me. His mouth curved—not quite a smile, but close enough—and something warm spread through my chest at the sight.

We finished our pie, and Gray paid the check before I could reach for my wallet. When we made it to the door, we both reached for the handle at the same time, and our hands touched. The contact was brief—maybe two seconds—but a jolt of something shot through me like an electric current. My breath caught, and I pulled my hand back too fast, like I’d touched something hot.

Had I shocked him? Was that static?