Page 406 of Wicked Brutal

“Yes.”

“Then ask.”

Tobias picks the chips back up. “She has a point.”

“Nobody asked you.”

Instead of going outside, he comes closer. He bends toward my stomach and says something in Russian.

Piper gasps. “What’d you say?”

“Secret.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

He says something else — French this time — and Piper’s mouth falls open. “Mommy! He’s talking about me.”

“I have absolutely no idea,” I say.

“Make him stop.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re his mom!”

And I stop. Tobias stops too.

Piper doesn’t. “Tell him!”

Tobias’s eyes meet mine. Ten years old. Completely fine. A tiny smile pulling at his mouth. “Yeah, Mom. Tell me.”

Fuck.

“Put the chips outside before I cry on you.”

He grins. “Okay.”

And he goes. Just like that. No hesitation. No question hiding underneath it. No little boy asking if I’m really allowed to keep him. No fear that somebody is going to decide differently tomorrow. Just — Mom.

I stare at the back door after it closes. Then the back door cracks open, and Tobias sticks his head inside. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re crying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You look like you’re crying.”

“Go away.”

That little smile comes back. “Okay, Mom.”

“Tobias Alexander!”

The door slams, and I hear him laughing outside. Little shit. I wipe beneath my eyes, and Piper watches me.