Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Mind your own business, Eva.”
But my kid brother’s anger doesn’t faze me. The tattoo is what scares me.
“That tattoo, Jordan? Really?”
“I said mind your own fucking business, Eva.”
It isn’t a gang tattoo. Not really. But we’d both seen it on kids in our neighborhood going down a dangerous path. And now my little brother, the one who’d had a bright grin and infectious laugh, is sporting one.
“Jordan—”
“Don’t you dare, Eva.” Jordan backs up another step. There is anger in his eyes, but it’s covering hurt and fear. “Don’t you dare. You’re the one who disappeared.”
“Oh, give me a break.” I throw my hands into the air to keep from wringing his neck. “This has been going on for much longer than the last month and a half. And I swear, if you don’t stop getting into trouble, I’m going to stop saving your ass, and you’ll have to do it on your own.”
“I don’t need you to save me, Eva. I don’t need anything. I’m fine.” He turns, hurling the burned burrito into the trash.
“You’re obviously not, Jordan.” I follow him, unwilling to let it go. To let him go. To let this conversation go when I so desperately need him to just talk to me. “You don’t understand how much I fucking worry about you. How much Dad worries about you, and Marco, and Katie.”
He picks up speed through the dining room and into the living room.
“I can’t keep saving you like this, Jordan. I can’t. You have to learn to save your own ass or, better yet, stop getting yourself into situations you need saving from.”
Desperate to have this talk with my brother, I follow him as he flees up the stairs. He’ll deflect and say he’s depressed or that he’s an adult now. He’ll say no one ever expected anything of him, so he just became what everyone figured he’d be.
They’re all lies, of course, but they’re the armor he uses to shield himself from accountability. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get through his defenses and make him see how his actions affect everyone else.
And how they affect him.
“You’re too damn smart for this. You’re a good kid. Just let me help…”
Jordan’s door slams in my face before I can get my foot in to keep it open.
“Jordan, please.” I pound the door several times, then rest my hand on the old wood, willing my little brother to listen. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry. I don’t understand why you’re doing what you’re doing, but I want to help. Please let me help.”
I’d been afraid for Jordan before, it was the reason I kept bailing him out. But that was before. Now, I’m knee-deep in bratva business. Now I’ve seen the files, the correspondence, the trails that show just how many illegal dealings they’re into. I’ve been among frightening men with their guns.
I’ve been backed against a wall with a bratva leader’s hand around my throat and believed every promise in his eyes that screamed he was going to kill me.
And that makes me genuinely terrified for my brother. I can see the path Jordan is going down, and I have no idea how to stop him. I feel entirely helpless, like I’m watching two cars barreling toward each other, knowing the results will be catastrophic yet unable to stop it.
“Jordan, please?” I let my forehead rest against the closed door, willing Jordan to open. “Please. Can’t we just talk? I just want to talk. I want to help.”
The only answer is silence.
Heaving a sigh, I turn and rest my back against the door, listening to the sounds of the house that have always meant home to me. Except now they are more of an echo of home, as though there’s a strange kind of time warp between here and Palos Verdes.
Quiet voices reach my ears, and I pad over to Katie’s room. I peek through the open door and am surprised to see Vasya sitting beside my little sister at the desk. Both are bent over her math book.
“You see? If you treat it as a whole number and round it, you can get an idea of the width and go from there.” Vasya’s finger is on a point in the book, and Katie nods vigorously. “Does that make sense?”
“Yes!”
Normally reticent with strangers, Katie turns a beaming smile on Vasya. He ruffles the kid’s hair and looks over his shoulder at me.
“Problem taken care of,” he says with a wink.
“Thanks,” I say, hoping my tone shows how grateful I am for his help. “You sure you’ve got this?”
“He has this, Eva,” Katie replies, voice thick with preteen annoyance.
Vasya chuckles and gives me a nod, then checks his watch. “I’ll finish this and be down in fifteen minutes. We should get going soon. Miss the worst of the traffic.”