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“Unlike your father.”
“Unlike him,” I confirmed.
“Why’s he like that?” he asked warily.
“He’s a product of his environment. Just like I am. Just like you are.”
“Do you hate him?”
I stared at him, not totally surprised by the question. “When I was your age, sure. He wanted me to do things…” My voice waned because he didn’t need to knowwhatthings. “He wanted me to besomething I wasn’t.”
“Why did you conform?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“We always have choices.”
“Not in my world.”
“It’s my world now,” he rasped.
“No. I’ll make sure it isn’t.”
“You sound so sure.”
“Because I am.”
He bit his lip. “I asked Uncle Conor for—”
“I know. He told me. Didn’t like what you read?”
“I mean, I’ve seenThe Sopranos.” He hesitated. “Don’t tell Mom though.”
I had to grin. “I won’t.”
“I know what a crime family does and things, but…”
“But what?”
“It’s not likeThe Sopranos,” he said miserably. “It’s real life.”
“It is.”
He licked his lips. “If I saw—”
I tipped my head to the side when he broke off. “Saw what?”
“Nothing.”
My brow puckered, but I reached over and cupped his shoulder. “What is it? You can tell me.”
“Nothing. I promise.” He cleared his throat to suddenly hide the squeak, and while I knew he was hiding something, what could I do? Get out a knife and threaten him?
I could see that going down well with Aela.
So, even though I knew he was lying, even though I could see from the sudden storm clouds in his eyes that he badly needed to share something with me, I just murmured, “You won’t be getting involved in my world.”
He peered up at me with relief in his gaze, but he inquired, “Why is Aidan so mean to you?”
