Chapter 17 #2
He gives me another curt nod and then he’s out the door.
But something reckless and desperate makes me follow him outside.
Maybe it’s the need to practice for tonight, to test the waters of this charade we’re going to have to pull off.
He tosses me a confused look but keeps walking towards the car waiting for him.
As he gets inside, I call out in my brightest, most adoring voice: “Have a great day, sweetheart!” I even wave at him, putting on the performance of the loving fiancée seeing her man off to work.
He freezes halfway into the car, his expression a mixture of shock and something I can’t decipher. After a beat, he actually waves back, the gesture awkward but oddly endearing.
Once the car disappears around the corner, I practically sprint back inside, my back hitting the door as I cringe from pure embarrassment. Have a great day, sweetheart? What the hell was that crap?
The whole thing seemed like a good idea in my head. I thought it’d be cute. But Christ, it was so… forced. His face was priceless, though—almost comical.
I giggle despite myself. He’ll have to work on his acting. We’ll both have to if we want his brothers and their wives to believe us. They’re all actually in love, so they’ll be able to smell our ruse from a mile away if we don’t play our cards right.
I walk into the kitchen to make breakfast and start browsing on my phone for ideas of what I can do with my time.
Anything, Romero said. The thought that I can do anything is both freeing and terrifying.
I never had time to dream growing up, and now I feel like I’m too old for dreams. What do I even want to do?
Outside of my family and their needs… who am I?
I’m just finishing breakfast when a text pops up from an unknown number.
Miss Barlowe, this is Rico, the guard on duty at the front gates. There’s a young man out here who claims to be your brother.
There’s a guard stationed at the gates? I’ve never noticed one. Before I can reply, an image comes through—Ethan standing outside the gates, his face pulled into an exaggerated scowl as he poses for the camera with his middle finger raised high. I sigh as I text the man back.
Yes, that’s my brother. Please let him in, thank you.
Then I text Romero.
Heyy, we have a guard at the gates? I didn’t know.
He doesn’t reply immediately—probably already in court—so I put my phone away. Has it been two hours since he left the house? I’m not sure. I put my plate in the dishwasher and go wait for Ethan at the front door.
I don’t have to wait long. He comes skipping down the path, his face stretched into a wide grin. “Holy shit, Leni. This place is insane.”
“Did you have to flip off the poor guard?” I ask, crossing my arms. “He was just doing his job.”
My brother rolls his eyes as he stops in front of me. “He was keeping me from seeing my sister. I thought that fucker might be doing something to you.”
“That fucker?” I raise a brow at him. Surely, he can’t be referring to Romero.
“Yeah, the fucker.” His lips turn down. “He showed up at our new house this morning and started laying down a bunch of rules. Can you imagine? He–” Ethan stops mid-sentence and grabs my hand, then whistles low. “Holy hell, Leni. That’s some rock.”
I glance down at the engagement ring on my finger. It’s only been there for a day, but it already feels so natural and right that I’d almost forgotten about it. In the daylight, it sparkles brilliantly, casting shards of light over Ethan’s face.
I slip my hand out of his grip. “Come on, let’s go in.” I lead him into the house, straight to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
He shrugs, but his eyes are bright with interest as he takes in the surroundings. ”I mean, I could eat. Are you offering me food?”
I smirk and pile a plate high with the extra waffles and turkey bacon I made with him in mind. Setting it down in front of my brother, who rubs his hands together in anticipation, I follow with a cold bottle of water from the fridge and a glass, placing them beside his plate.
By the time I slide onto the stool next to him, he’s already inhaled half the food. I chuckle. “Have you not been eating?”
“You know Mom isn’t exactly a cook like you, Leni,” he says around a mouthful.
Mom not being a cook is an understatement. She never moves off her ass once she’s got her opioids, period.
A stab of guilt pierces through me at leaving him to deal with her alone. “You should probably start making your own food. I taught you how.”
“Err, nah. I’ll just order takeout or eat cereal.” He smirks as he opens the bottle and gulps down the water in one go. I roll my eyes at his disgusting manners and return the clean glass to the cabinet, then put Ethan’s used plate into the dishwasher with mine.
“You mentioned Romero coming over to see you and Mom this morning. What rules did he lay down?” What exactly did he say?
He waves an airy hand. “Curfews mostly. Told me where I can and can’t go.
Said ‘You can’t make your sister worry about you.
’” He lowers his voice, doing a terrible impression of Romero, and I chuckle, warmth blooming in my chest at the thought.
“Then he pulled Mom aside and said some things to her that made her go white as a ghost.”
Oh my God, did he confront Mom about the slap?
Mortification washes over me. He said he was in a rush to get to work—why would he stop there?
It’s not even on his way. I glance at my phone anxiously, half-expecting Mom to call and start yelling.
I told him the slap wasn’t a big deal, damn it.
I checked the mirror after he left and the bruise isn’t even that bad. Even Ethan doesn’t seem to notice it.
He went to give Mom a piece of his mind anyway—there’s no point in being anxious about it now.
I push thoughts of Romero aside for now and focus on my brother. Now that he's fed and a little relaxed, I bring up the topic I asked him here to discuss. “Remember what we talked about regarding university?”
“I’m not interested in applying to a bunch of scholarships and begging some fuckers to fund my education, Leni.”
We’ve had this conversation a dozen times over the past year, and I still don’t get him. He has excellent grades—getting a scholarship wouldn’t be too hard for him—but he refuses to even try.
“Wait here.” I rub a hand down my jeans as I hurry upstairs to grab the NYU packet Romero gave me last night. When I get back to the kitchen, Ethan isn’t there. Of course. Did I really think he’d do what I asked?
“Ethan!” I yell, picking up my phone from the counter to call him. No way am I hunting him down in this huge house. Who knows where he could have wandered off to?
There’s a text waiting for me from Romero, sent a few minutes ago.
ROMERO
Not just one guard. Several. Three at the gates. And twice that on the grounds. You’re safe there.
I wasn’t exactly worried about my safety before, but this makes me think about it. Who has that many guards around their house? And how come I’ve not seen any of them? They’re really good at staying hidden. That’s probably part of their job description.
“What?” My brother strolls into the kitchen with a small frown. “Can’t take a little tour around your house?”
“That’s not what you’re here for,” I answer distractedly as I reply to Romero.
Oh, yeah, gotta protect yourself against those enemies of yours
I lock my phone and slip it into my back pocket, then slap the admission packet down on the island.
Ethan eyes it suspiciously as he approaches. “What’s that?”
“Open it.”
He does, pulling out all the documents inside. He picks up the official acceptance letter first and blinks at it, his eyes bulging out almost identically to how mine did when I saw my account balance this morning.
“Am I tripping or is this an admission letter from NYU? Addressed to me? I didn’t apply.”
“I know.” I raise my chin. “Romero applied for you.”
“What? Is that even legal?”
It’s my turn to wave a hand. “Let me worry about that. You got into NYU, Ethan! All expenses paid, and you’re free to pursue whatever major you want.
” I beam at him, my excitement from last night surging back.
One of his reasons for hesitating to apply for scholarships was that he might not get one for the course he wanted and be forced to pursue a degree he didn’t care about.
My grin fades when he just stares at me blankly, unmoved by what should be life-changing news.
“I’m not going,” he says finally, dropping the admission letter back onto the island.
“What?”
“I don’t want to go to school, it’s a waste of time.
I want to make money so we won’t have to keep depending on your fiancé’s good graces.
” His jaw sets. “He’s the one paying for this, isn’t he?
What if he wakes up one day and decides he doesn’t want you anymore?
Then we’ll be back to square one, and I’ll be stuck in a school I can’t afford to attend. ”
My mouth falls open. For a second, I just gape at him.
As much as I hate to admit it, the little shit has a point.
“Why don’t you let me worry about that possibility, Ethan?
You’re just eighteen years old with only a GED—you won’t get many job options.
” I should know. I’ve been there. “Your best bet is to go to NYU.”
“No.”
“You fucking dumbass.” The words are out before I think, my fist smacking the side of his head. His eyes go wide—hell, mine probably do too. I’ve never cursed at him before or raised a hand to him, no matter how angry he made me.
“You want to make money? Then go to school, get a solid degree, and let the money chase you. Or do you want to end up like Mom? Like me?” My voice cracks, my eyes stinging as I stare at him. “You think if I had this opportunity when I was your age, I wouldn’t have grabbed it?”
Ethan eyes me warily and takes a small step closer, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he says gruffly.
I married a man for his money. I swallow the words.
“This might be the best opportunity you’ll ever get, Ethan.
Don’t throw it away. Romero is offering to pay all your school expenses, so all you have to focus on is getting a good GPA like you did in high school.
After that, you can start thinking about money. Otherwise… you might end up like DJ.”
Ethan flinches.
DJ was a teenager in our neighborhood who started hanging out with gangs, just like Ethan is doing now.
One terrible night three months ago, his gang clashed with a rival group, and he got knifed.
He bled to death on the street. It’s awful using him as an example, but I have to do whatever it takes for my brother. I’m not losing him the same way.
“Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“No, Ethan.” I straighten my spine, channeling every ounce of authority I possess. “I’ve thought about it, and you’re going. Get ready. Summer session begins in two weeks.”