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“I notice lots of things.”
“Huh.”
I flip my head around because there’s something in his tone. If he’s referring to the tension around the dinner table and a couple other loaded comments, yes, I noticed. I might get around to asking about them later, my business or not.
He settles against the bark. “The name thing was an old argument between my parents. Every time my mom was pregnant, she went for traditional Latino names. Dad wanted more American-sounding ones, thought it would help us be more successful.”
“Clearly your mom won.” Three to one by my count.
“Well, you’ve met her.”
I smile. I’m guessing she rarely loses at anything.
He returns my smile, but his demeanor quickly shifts. “I told you about my dad dying. Well, Mom found out she was pregnant the day after the funeral. Dad had always liked the name Rachel.”
I blink back tears. Weird, because I’m typically not overly sentimental, I barely know this family, and I’m not convinced I even like his mother—mutual, I’m sure. Stupid hormones. “That’s about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
One eyebrow spikes. “Sweet? My mom?”
“She’s had to be pretty tough, I imagine.”
Marco nods thoughtfully. “It’s nice of you to notice.”
“I also noticed that she’s a complete pushover with Rachel.”
He grunts. “Us siblings used to joke about how she got babied like we never did, but it isn’t funny anymore.”
“She seems like a good kid. And she’s sooo pretty.” The latter has nothing to do with the former, but it’s what popped into my head.
“You think that makes me sleep better at night? If what I’m seeing this week is any indication of her judgment...”
“Tanner didn’t seem that bad.”
Marco scowls. “All I have to know is he’s a seventeen-year-old boy. ’Nuff said.”
These big brothers think they know so much.
But why am I arguing the point? I have no doubt, zero, that, had Tripp met Kyle, he would have waved me off and sent Kyle packing. I’m also confident Marco has the same radar.
“I just pray she doesn’t do something idiotic. She needs to finish high school, go to college. Get out of that armpit town.”
I open my mouth to ask why she wouldn’t, but I know, don’t I?Something idiotic…like make a beyond-foolish decision one night. Or several. Setting my chin on my knees, I fight the tears that have flooded the surface and push for release.
“I swear, if she goes and gets herself knocked up—”
I feel my chin begin to quiver.
A heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Annalise. That came out wrong.”
“Nope.” I hold up my hand to his protest. “It’s okay. I get it.” I swipe at my eyes. “Everything isn’t about me. I really do get that, Marco.”
I talk big, and my head understands he’s just worried about his sister, and yet, my heart hears condemnation.
Glancing over, I see his head drooping between his arms.
My heart is a selfish pig. I say not everything is about me, but I’ve been taking, taking, taking. “It’ll be okay, Marco. I’m sure Rachel will make good choices.”Not.“But feel free to use me as a cautionary tale if it helps.”
That gets his attention and perhaps not in a good way. It probably emerged as more of my narcissistic drama, but I meant it sincerely. “And you know, if the worst happens, she’ll deal with it.Allof youwill deal with it. She has a good family…and a great big brother.” I smile, striving to communicate my sincerity and admiration. He’s practically a Marvel hero.
