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I huffed, rubbing my eyes. I had a nasty headache thanks to the glare of my laptop’s screen.
I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much, Vivian looking at me like that. But what else was I supposed to do? I needed to put my foot down for Wally’s sake. I found no joy in being the strict parent, but he would thank me later.
I knew firsthand just how hard life could be without a good education and a secure job. I watched my father toil away, day in and day out, struggling to scrape together enough funds to keep food on the table. We lived paycheck to paycheck, barely getting by. It was no way to live. There was no freedom in it. I was only trying to make sure that my son was set up for a comfortable future.
Why couldn’t he understand that?
It would be too easy to blame Melissa for Wally’s behavior. She’d always been a free spirit. The fun mom. The good cop in all our disciplinary scenarios. She was the first one he’d go to when he wanted something, or when I told him no. Melissa never had any qualms about being the favorite.
I rubbed my temples. The pressure behind my eyes was excruciating, but I still had several emails to draft and a day of plans to approve for my security teams out in the field on active details. It was hard doing this from home. I had none of the resources I needed to do my job. Confidential files stayed at the office. I could access them remotely on my laptop, but only after jumping through several hoops to make copies and destroying them the second I was done.
I made a mental note to ask Devin to make a work portal of sorts for remote work. It could prove beneficial for my employees. I sent him a quick text before I could remember what time it was. My phone pinged a second later.
Go the fuck to sleep.
Maybe he had a point. I wasn’t sure when it happened, but I somehow hit the point where my efficiency rate dropped off and took a steep skydive into nothing. As much as I hated to admit it, I was exhausted. I could keep working, but the chances of making mistakes were exponentially proportional to how tired I was.
Behind me, shuffling footsteps caught my attention.
I closed my laptop and turned, spotting a familiar bun of shiny black hair. Vivian yawned wide, stretching her arms as she did. A simple white tank top and a pair of neon pink shorts caught my eye. Individually, they were harmless articles of clothing.On her, it was enough to give me a heart attack. No amount of tofu and a healthy diet could prepare me for the way my pulse spiked.
“What are you doing up?” I asked.
She smirked. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Work. You?”
“Anxious.”
I frowned. “Talk to me.”
Vivian shrugged, walking toward me. “I don’t know. If you told me a week ago that I’d be on the run from a powerful cartel, I would have laughed and told you to ease up on the sauce.”
“I call that a regular Tuesday.”
She laughed softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m scared for Molly. Can’t stop thinking about her. I really hope she’s alright. I think I feel guilty, too, because I’m safe here with you and she’s—” Her voice choked, a mixture of anger and sadness in her eyes. “We were placed in the same foster home. We were both seventeen, about to age out of the program. I think that’s why we got along so well. Kindred spirits, about to brave the unknown.”
“Foster home?” I echoed, curiosity piqued.
Vivian nodded, leaning against my arm slightly. “My parents weren’t… the best people. Scumbags, to tell you the truth. Addicts, though I’m not sure what they were addicted to. Whatever they could get their hands on, I guess.”
A boiling rage brewed in the pit of my stomach. The thought of Vivian, young and helpless, clawed its way through my mind. All alone. Nobody to take care of her, to protect her.
“Did they ever hurt you?” I asked through gritted teeth.
She took my hand and squeezed my fingers. “No. Don’t worry, Jesse.”
“It’s inexcusable.”
“And that’s why social services took me away.”
She said it so simply, without a hint of emotion. Just another boring fact like the sky being blue and that birds could fly and bad parents had their children taken away to live elsewhere.
“How old were you?” I asked.
“Eight. Spent the next ten years going from home to home.” Vivian smiled gently. “It wasn’t so bad. Some families were really nice. Three square meals a day. They let me go to school. Bought me new clothes when I outgrew my old ones. Almost got adopted by a family once.”
I held her hand tight. “What happened?”
