Page 88 of Trust Me

“But he’s Remi,” I finished with a little chuckle. “So, you were a stowaway.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t have been allowed to keep me. But I was just another kid close to aging out who ditched his placement. We disappear all the time, and trust me, there are more sinister reasons it happens.”

The idea of it made my gut feel acidic. Realizing my fingers were still beneath his chin, I told myself to move away, but I ended up spreading them further, cupping his jaw. Again, that intense wave of protectiveness surged inside me, demanding that I take away the dark look in his eyes. Whatever had caused it shouldn’t have existed, and from what he’d said, he wasn’t even the one who had it the worst.

“You’re strong,” I said. “Stronger than I would’ve thought when we met.”

“Yeah, you just thought I was weird.”

“Still do.”

Eyeing him carefully, I tried to decide if he was better now. Maybe he’d always be okay, even when he wasn’t. I didn’t have a clue how to work with that yet, but it was something I had to figure out.

“You want to open that package now?” I asked.

His eyes lit up. A second later, his eyes lowered.

Releasing him immediately, I huffed. “The one by the door, you ass.”

“I was gonna do it after you went to bed.”

“Jesus. I don’t care if you buy shit, Oli. It’s your money.”

“But you’re trying to help me.”

“Well, if you want me to help, you can’t just hide that you’re spending money. That’s counterproductive and sort of childish.”

He stuck his lips out while he considered it. “Fine. My bad.”

Whirling around, he rushed inside. I breathed a laugh as I followed. Before I could reach the entryway, my phone buzzed. Pulling it out, I bit my lip, wondering if I should send it to voicemail, but I couldn’t do that. Not with the way his health was.

“Hey, old man,” I answered.

“Hey, D.”

“Your voice is hoarse, Dad. You been drinking enough?”

“Not really. I’ll get myself something in a bit, okay? You have time to talk?”

“I—”

“Oh, hold on. Let me get your mom.”

It was a relief that she was there. I wanted to hear both of their voices.

We didn’t talk every day. More than once, we’d gone a couple of weeks between calls, but it didn’t take away from our relationship. I grew up being very independent, and they’d always treated me like I was grown. Sometimes, though, I just needed to talk to my parents.

“Dean,” she crooned suddenly.

“Hey, Mom.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t text you first. Me and Dad are heading out for dinner in a bit, but we wanted to talk to you before.”

“Dinner?”

“It’s celebratory,” Dad announced.

I tried to remember if it was their anniversary. That was still a few months away. None of our birthdays were in March either.