Chapter 29 Butter #2
Kiara stops at the top of the stairs. “I’ve noticed how he looks at you.”
A jolt of electricity hits me. “Um, how?”
She looks thoughtful, considering her words. “He softens when he looks at you. It’s like he slows down, you know? I never
saw that with anyone else.”
“Ever?”
“Ever,” she echoes. “It’s been a long time, and I don’t know about everyone he’s been involved with, but yeah.”
I fight to keep the smile off my face. “You sure he’s not thinking about how much more peaceful his life is going to be once
I’m out of his hair?”
“Uh-huh,” she says, in a tone that makes it obvious she doesn’t believe me. She pushes open the door at the end of the hallway,
revealing a small bedroom with boxes stacked by the dresser and art leaning against the wall. “Here, we put the stuff in his
old room.”
I peer inside. “Jack’s?”
“Yeah, when he started living with us. Dad convinced him after another foster placement fell through.”
I stare as her words sink in. “He was in foster care?”
“He didn’t . . . ?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Kiara drags her teeth over her lip. “Shit. I figured he’d have mentioned something by now.”
Foster care. Suddenly, everything Jack has said—or rather, hasn’t said—about his parents makes a lot more sense. Heat creeps
up the back of my neck. I don’t know what I assumed about his family situation, but it wasn’t foster care. The thought of
Jack as a little kid, shuttled from house to house in his own hometown, makes my heart ache. Despite my current annoyance
at my family, they’ve always been there for me. I couldn’t imagine my life without them.
“He didn’t say anything.” I take a few steps into the room, searching for lingering evidence of Jack. An old cookbook, a pair
of shoes. A stack of CDs. The room is pin-neat, a quilt folded at the foot of the bed. I sit on it, fiddling with my braid.
“What happened? Was he always . . .”
Kiara sits next to me. “Honestly, I don’t know the whole story, but apparently, he was in foster care from the time he was
born. There was one adoption that didn’t work out. He bounced around a lot of different homes before he started working at
the restaurant, and then eventually, my dad took him in. I’m pretty sure it was that or another group home.”
“So, when he said you’re like siblings . . .”
Her eyes brighten. “He said that?”
“Now I feel like an idiot for not realizing.”
“Hey, no. That’s on him for having the communication skills of a snail.”
I shut my eyes. “All the times I needled him—or gave him shit about his family—”
“You didn’t know.” She nudges her shoulder against mine.
“How long did he live with you guys?”
“About three years, until he left for culinary school.” Her mouth twists. “He didn’t really want to come back home after that.”
“Not even to visit?”
“Not to town. He saw my dad a few times in Lauderdale, that sort of thing. And I think he spent a summer working on some rich
guy’s yacht as the chef? But he said he was done with Diamond Bay.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry. Well, not sorry that you know. But sorry to spring it on you.”
It’s strange. We’ve been physical. We share the same condition. I’ve tasted his food, and he always manages to infuse that
with intimacy. But despite all that, he’s been keeping a secret—a big one—and letting me act like a fool every time I open
my mouth about his family. No wonder he feels so indebted to Sal. And even to my father.
“Did you mind? Suddenly having a big brother, I mean?”
“No, I loved it. Most of my life, it was just me and my dad, you know? Not that he wasn’t great, but I was always a little
jealous of my friends who had siblings around.” She draws her knees up, resting her chin on them. “Jack and I spent a lot
of time together. We’d play video games, or do homework together—well, I did my homework, at least. Usually in the kitchen,
while Dad and Jack cooked. School wasn’t really his thing.”
That, I can definitely relate to. “That sounds nice. What video games?”
“It was.” She smiles. “He was a beast at Mario Kart. Played as Bowser every time.”
I roll my eyes. “Naturally.”
“He protected me, too, like a proper big brother. One time, a guy in my class wouldn’t stop asking me out no matter how many
times I said I wasn’t interested. Jack told him to leave me alone or he’d kick his teeth down his throat.” Kiara slides to
the floor by the boxes. She opens one of them, poking through the objects inside. “No one had ever stood up for me like that
before. Even though he really shouldn’t have, because he got suspended for it. Again.”
I feel a surge of warmth for teenage Jack.
I can picture his fierceness so clearly.
His determination to defend his new sister, even to his own detriment.
“Good for him.” I settle next to her on the floor, opening another box.
“I loved having an older sister, growing up. We have a four-year age gap, but she still liked hanging out with me.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, it was annoying, too, because she’d do everything first.” I make a face. “I was constantly chasing her, and it was
impossible to catch up, you know? Julia is the kind of person who is perfect at everything without even trying.”
“Sounds difficult.”
“Yeah. But she was protective, too. My first ever date was a disaster—he put his hand on my knee, and I was so nervous I spilled
a huge soda over us both. He was a total dick about it. I called Julia crying from the bathroom, and she picked me up even
though she was supposed to be on her way to a party. Brought me a change of clothes. We went to the roller rink instead.”
Kiara’s eyes widen. “Where were you?”
“The movies.” I cringe at the memory. “We went to see This Means War.”
“I love that movie!” She sighs. “Vintage Chris Pine. Although it should have ended with the guys getting together.”
“Never finished it. Too much shame.”
“I know what we’re doing next time you come over.”
“No,” I faux protest. “Don’t make me relive the trauma.”
She bursts into giggles as I pull a carved wooden fish, painted in streaks of blue and green and yellow, out of one of the
boxes. “Ooh, do you know where this is from? Where was it in the old place?”
“Oh, that’s a mahi mahi. Dolphin fish.” Kiara thinks for a moment. “It was probably by the host stand? I’m pretty sure Dad
got it as a gift from a friend.”
“Let’s put it back there, then.”