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And then there was always that fear that I wouldn’t be any better than Dad.
That got Glen to look at me. “I thought it was just me and Mom. He kept telling me how you and Damian were the smart ones, and I’d never measure up.”
I snorted at that. “Nah, he told me I was an idiot because I couldn’t spell. Damian did well in school, but Dad called him worthless because he wasn’t into sports.”
“Hmm.”
As we finally pulled into the driveway and the giant metal gate squeaked shut behind us, Glen grabbed his backpack from between his legs and climbed out, then waited by the trunk until I opened it. We shared the load, me taking the larger kettlebell and the punching pad, Glen grabbing the smaller kettlebell and the bag with the ball and the gloves.
Vera greeted us at the archway separating the living from the dining rooms. "Hey, you made it. I hope you're hungry."
"We're always hungry for your cooking," Glen said.
“You say that to all the ladies Sean brings home,” she deadpanned.
I smiled as she finished setting the table, choosing not to tell her that Glen might be buttering her up for a reason.
“You’re the first girl I brought home, darling.”
She rolled her eyes at me and pointed at the kitchen sink with a silent command to wash my hands.
“Pinky swear,” I said as I turned on the water. “I told you, this is the most serious relationship I ever had.”
Glen loaded his plate up with the salad and the roasted vegetables. I grinned at Vera but stayed quiet.
"Alright, what happened? Do you want me to help you with math again?" Vera asked.
Glen sighed and put his fork down. "Can I spar with you? Or even better, do you know a doctor that works for the mafia who can sign my release form, so I can spar at the dojo?"
Vera lifted a brow at him. "Why?"
“They’re worried about his brain trauma,” I said, still not sure what to make of it.
“I don’t have a brain trauma. I faked it.”
Vera gave him the perfect no nonsense look. “You can’t fake it.”
“Of course, I can,” Glen insisted. “I pretended not to know where I was and what day it was. Mixed people’s names up on purpose. When they told me to squeeze their hands or push with my feet, I made sure it was uneven, and then they asked me to follow things with my eyes, and I’d look further to the side.”
Vera sighed. “Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t want to go back to Dad.”
I rubbed her knee under the table in a silent plea, having no idea what exactly I wanted Vera to do, but trusting her to do something that would solve this issue.
Vera drummed her fingers on the table. “I can take you to a neurologist. She’s Russian, so she’ll know if you’re trying to pull something. Is there anything I need to know before taking you to her?”
Glen sighed. “I had a concussion, but not that bad.”
“I guess I’ll let her be the judge,” Vera said.
Glen grinned and started eating the roasted chicken, ignoring the vegetables on his plate. Vera should’ve waited for him to finish eating before agreeing to help.
