Page 87 of Trust Me

With a sigh, I sat back. “You’re putting too much stock in what I think about stuff that’s not my business.”

“I value your opinion, though. You’re just better at this life thing.”

“You really didn’t have anyone to teach you anything? Remi?”

He shook his head, keeping his gaze on the box. “He’s better at it too, but he has a tendency to just do things himself. When I lived with him, he took care of me. When I was lost, he brought me back, and when I didn’t know how to do something, he did it. That’s sort of why I moved out.”

“Can you tell me more about it?”

A little smile made his face brighten. Getting to his feet, he held a hand out to me. I took it, letting him pull me up, then I released him. He walked onto the balcony and grabbed a tiny pair of garden snips. I watched him prune the dying leaves off of his plants while he hummed softly.

And I just waited, not even sure if he’d answer my question. At this point, I didn’t want to push him because he seemed so at peace out here with his plants.

The song was the same one he’d been singing the other night before he heard me at the door. I found myself feeling content as I leaned against the railing.

“Rise up this morning, smile with the rising sun,” I sang quietly. When he looked over his shoulder at me, my cheeks heated, but I continued. “Three little birds pitch by my doorstep singin’ sweet songs of melodies pure and true, singin’, ‘This is my message to you.’”

“Singin’ don’t worry about a thing,” he joined in. “Cause every little thing’s gonna be alright.”

“You like that song.”

There was a soft expression on his face as he continued to tend to his plants. “How could I not? I used to sing it to myself, then I taught it to Remi. It got him through the bad times.”

“And you.”

He shrugged one shoulder. Moving closer to him, I kept my weight against the railing but nudged him with my toe. The way he avoided looking at me now made my stomach constrict.

I pushed away from the edge and turned him by the shoulder. He ducked his head, but I put two fingers beneath his chin and lifted his face.

My eyes widened at the same moment that something felt like it struck me in the chest.

A tear. There was a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

“Of course not.” He smiled as if everything was just fine.

It looked like he was okay, but then why was he crying?

“Bad memories?”

“Foster care sucks,” he replied. “Always has and probably always will. I got pushed around, beat up a bit, and all that. But those aren’t the things that stick with me. Not really.”

“Tell me.”

“There’s this hopelessness that sets in, and eventually you just have to accept that nobody’s coming to save you. I leaned on Remi when we were together, but that was only for a year. He got placed somewhere else when he was sixteen, then he disappeared.”

“Like, he ran off?”

“Yeah. He sent me letters, though, so I knew he was okay. I was thirteen then, and I wanted to do the same thing, but I knew there was no way I’d survive. He fought to get emancipated, and because he’s freaking Remi, he pulled it off. Left the state altogether and came to Seattle. I was stuck in San Francisco, bouncing from place to place until they stuck me in a group home that was a nightmare.”

“How’d you get here?”

“I turned sixteen and decided I was going to be like Remi. Things were bad where I was at, so I up and left.”

“Just like that?”

He shrugged. “Remi would’ve told me to stay. He’d already said it a thousand times. It was hard as hell for him to get his life together, and he didn’t want me to be in the same boat. So, I started hitch hiking. It took me a month, but I made it to his door. The bastard should’ve turned me away and called my social worker, but he's—”