I step out of the car and look up at the stunning home standing before me. It’s pristine and new, the gardens beautifully and professionally manicured, the colors and feel of it filled with warmth. Honestly, I can’t believe what I’m seeing, imagining my mom, the woman who raised me living in such an upmarket, upper-class lifestyle. I guess it was probably just another role she played to get what she wanted or to where she wanted to be.

She’s done really well for herself.

Well, she had done really well for herself… now she’s dead.

I feel a small amount of jealousy, that green-eyed monster creeping up the back of my spine and wrapping itself around my brain. She lived this life, like some perfect rags to riches fairy tale, never really feeling the karma that she should have or the impact of her actions.

But I guess the fact that she’s dead now—well, maybe the proof’s in the pudding.

I grit my teeth and walk up the stone pathway, my feet thumping so hard I can feel the jolt in my teeth as I stomp toward the lavish front porch. I’m ready for a fight, I can feel it bubbling up inside me as I think about meeting this guy, Dean, who gave my mom all of this. The man who gave her a castle when she didn’t even deserve a dog house.              

Climbing the front steps, my eyes take in the lack of security around the house. There’s not even a front gate or anything to deter burglars. I snort under my breath. “Dean needs to step his game up,” I mutter in distaste, as I raise my hand and pound harshly on the front door.

It’s only a few seconds I have to wait while tapping my foot before the door swings open. My eyes move from the floor to scanning the man standing in front of me. The shiny shoes, the dark suit pants—they all give me a bad taste in my mouth, and I screw up my nose. Although as I move up further, I’m a little more confused.

Dean’s wearing a baby blue button up shirt, but it’s untucked haphazardly and just hanging loosely around his waist. There’s a coffee stain on one of the cuffs, and he’s holding a beer in his hand. When I finally risk my eyes settling on his face, I notice just how tall he is, how strong and sturdy his body is, like he must work out almost as much as I do because his chest is huge.

I’m stunned for a few seconds, my brain unable to process what I’m seeing. I wasn’t expecting to see a man like this, someone so put together, someone who looked like your typical everyday businessman.

With my mom’s rap sheet, I was expecting some useless druggie, maybe even a pimp—I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised. But this? It’s thrown me for a loop.

It’s so… normal.

“Luca…” Dean says in surprise, but a kind smile grows on his face, one that I instantly want to punch off. I’m even surprised that he knows who I am. I wanted him so badly to be an asshole, so I knew she’d never changed, but it’s hard to be mad at a guy who seems so genuinely happy to see me.

I shake off the way he says my name. Instead, deciding to lead with anger, even if it’s directed at my mom and not him. I narrow my eyes and point my finger at Dean’s chest. “Get your lawyer to stop fucking calling me,” I snap, poking him harshly to reinforce my point.

Dean doesn’t move at all in my attempt to push him. Instead, he looks me directly in the eyes and sighs, his body sagging. “Luca, we’ve all been through a lot. Come inside so we can talk about it.”

“I don’t want to come inside your fancy-ass house,” I hiss, folding my arms across my chest like a spoiled brat trying to get their way.

Dean nods like he understands, his face still not shocked by my sharp tongue. “Okay, whatever makes you comfortable. I want you to know we’re here for you too. We can talk right here—”

“Maybe we should talk inside,” I cut in before pushing forward and shoving past Dean to stand in the large foyer. I know I’m a stubborn asshole, but when someone tells me what to do it makes me determined to do the exact opposite. My head is all messed up about my mom—his wife—and with Dean being so openly nice to me it’s making me feel uncomfortable and strange.

This isn’t what I was expecting, and it’s not what I’d prepared myself for.

Dean closes the front door and gestures to the living room. I nod at him to lead the way, my eyes curiously scanning the house for clues or hints. Of what? I’m really not that sure. Do I want to know more about her and this life she lived? Do I want to see pictures of her? What she looked like? Whether she was different than I remembered?

Should I really be torturing myself?

“Please, sit,” Dean requests, but I shake my head sharply and continue to stand behind a large old leather sofa, my sweaty hands delighted when I place them on the cool material. I shift from foot to foot, not knowing what to say or why I even agreed to come inside when all I’d planned to do was to yell at him and walk away.

“How are you holding up?” Dean asks as he takes a seat himself.

I narrow my eyes at him, assessing him. He’s slightly taller than me. His hair is mostly dark but streaked with grays that annoyingly not only makes him look smarter but more distinguished. His body’s solid, like he could give any member of my team a run for their money with strength.

I look away when I answer. “Why do you care?” My voice is soft, not harsh like it was a few moments ago, as I breathe in the air of the room, the slightly lavender smell that seems to float all around me.

This was her home, the place where she made a new life for herself, where she chose to become someone else.

It’s so different to where I grew up. We were always in small apartments with no hot water or heating, broken windows, and barely enough food to get by. But we always did. Somehow.

“Because we are family,” Dean says, like the answer to my question was obvious. Only it wasn’t, at least not to me. He speaks with a gentleness that’s almost aggravating like he’s talking to a small child.

I’m not a fucking child. I’m a man and have been for a long time.

I had to be, I had to grow up quickly. There was no chance for me to be a child.

“I’m nothing to you, and I sure as hell was nothing to her,” I growl with venom, my voice rising steadily. “She didn’t give a shit. She abandoned me. Left me when I needed her the most. Do you know how it feels to know that the one person who should love you unconditionally, who literally grew you inside of their body and gave you life, doesn’t give a flying fuc—”

I pause when a small movement catches in the corner of my eye, and I look over, seeing two sets of eyes staring at me from behind the door that leads to another room. My mouth goes instantly dry and a lump forms in my throat. A young boy and a little girl. The boy has his hands over her ears, no doubt trying to protect her from the harsh words that are spewing from my mouth.

Dean looks over, takes a deep breath as he uses his hand to wave them into the room. The little girl, her hair a wild crazy mess of curls as she bounces confidently into the room and takes a flying leap at her father’s lap. He catches her with ease, the little boy following in after, a little more wary, scowling at me the same way I would when men would yell at my mom.

It’s like looking at the past.

The girl stares at me with wide eyes, no doubt much like the way I’m looking back at her, with shock and surprise as I start to realize I’ve just become that same person that I was afraid of all those years ago. The men that would show up at our home and yell and scream at my mom, without the violence. But for all these kids knew, that could be coming.

I hate I can see the fear in their eyes, and instantly take a step around the couch and crouch down to a less intimidating position.

“This is Carter and Zoe,” Dean introduces with a gentle smile before turning his attention to the kids, placing one hand on each of theirs. “Kids, this is Luca. You remember how we talked about Mommy having another baby a long time ago. This is your brother.”

I struggle to breathe, I want to tell this man to leave me the hell alone, that I want nothing to do with her—past or present. But seeing these two very real children is a harsh truth, reminding me that it’s not just money that she’s left behind. She’s left a family, a brother and a sister who carry my DNA, two kids that I instantly feel protective of.

Zoe looks at me with bright, innocent eyes, still saying nothing but absorbing the information and atmosphere that’s in the room.

Carter, on the other hand, is not so happy just soaking up the love. “He’s kind of a dick,” the small version of myself says, screwing up his nose like he’s just licked a lemon. He holds his chin high and moves closer to his dad.

Yup, there’s no doubt in my mind that this kid and I are related. Insult the person, then step closer to the person who’s going to protect you from them. For me, though, that person is usually Kace.

Dean shoots him a warning glare with narrowed eyes while Zoe perks up a little, her face lighting up with a smile. Her cheeks are chubby and pink, and her eyes while a stunning shade of blue, look red and bloodshot from excessive crying.

My stomach sinks.

These kids have just lost their mom. A mom that they loved and adored who may not have been there for me, but was obviously there for them.

It’s like I’ve stepped into this alternative reality, with a mother who cared, and a sister who’s still alive. That thought suddenly makes me feel like I want to vomit. My stomach churning as I feel the weight of that reality pushing down on me, suffocating me. “I can’t do this,” I mumble, standing far too fast and stumbling to find my feet.

Dean places Zoe on the floor and comes forward with a worried look in his eyes, holding out his hands as if he might need to catch me. My skin is hot, like a flush starting at the bottom of my neck and moving like the waves of a hurricane up over my face.

Dean takes hold of my elbow, and I notice Carter take his little sister’s hand and pull her away, sheltering her, protecting her from anything that might happen. Dean steadies me, and for a moment it feels good to let him be there to catch me, and not have to catch myself.

I don’t let myself relish in it, though, snatching my arm away as I head for the front door. There’s a haze moving through my head, my brain trying to protect itself from the memories that are threatening to resurface.

“Luca, it’s okay. Just sit and take a breath,” Dean tries as he follows me to the door, his hands raised like he’s surrendering, or like a hostage negotiator trying to reason with some crazy person.

I am that crazy person.

“Hell, no. I’m out. I gotta go,” I tell him in a rush, finally managing to grasp the door handle and yank it open. I duck outside and reach for it again, pulling it shut behind me so Dean won’t follow. But just before I do, I hear a sweet little voice, one that makes me freeze and reconsider going back inside.

“Why is he leaving?” Zoe asks before the door slams shut and I’m left standing on the porch, wondering what the hell just happened.

My stomach churns when I remember thinking the exact same thing when my mom walked away.

And now I’m doing the same shit to them.

Jesus Christ, maybe I’m more like her than I thought.

 

 

The door swings open and our eyes connect, and suddenly, it’s as though I can breathe again.

I have no idea what made me come here, but the urge was so powerful I couldn’t fight it, and soon I found myself sitting in her driveway.

“Luca?” Everly asks in confusion, looking around behind me as if expecting to see the whole team arriving. But I’m completely alone. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t speak, I don’t even know if I can. I want to tell her why I’m here, but words seem so pointless, so unworthy after the emotions I’ve felt today. Pain and confusion mixed with anger and resentment—I’m a fucking ball of crazy just waiting to explode. If I start talking now, I know I’m going to lose my shit. If I try and explain to Everly what led me to her doorstep, she’ll probably end up with me sitting here, sobbing my heart out, unable to even form a sentence.

That’s how fucking confused I am right now.

So no, I don’t want to speak. I don’t want to say a single fucking word.

So, I do the only thing I can think of.

I step forward and grab her face in my hands, her cheeks are already rosy and flushed, but feel soft as fucking silk in my palms. She opens her mouth to question me, but I slam my lips down onto hers and swallow every protest that threatens to come out of her mouth. She’s frozen in shock for a few moments, but once her mouth starts moving with mine, I fall into a place of comfort and bliss, a place where there’s only her and me.

Everly’s strong, she has a smart mouth, and with me she isn’t afraid to use it. It fucking turns me on like nobody’s business. But what really gets me, is how motivated and passionate she is about learning and being a part of The Agency. She wants to be there, and she isn’t afraid to work her damn ass off to get what she wants. She’s sexy as hell and when she throws a punch, damn.

Passion and fever take over, and I push forward, causing her to stumble back into the house. Chasing after her, I catch her and press her back against the wall. Something beside us crashes to the floor, the sound of water splashing against the wood panels and the clink of metal follows.

She grabs my wrists like she’s about to try and fight me off, but instead, she just holds them tightly in her grasp as her tongue battles against mine, the natural competitive nature in her coming out in full force. It’s fucking sexy, and I find my hips pressing forward.

Everly gasps and pulls back suddenly, and in the blink of an eye she’s tearing my hands from her face and shoving at my chest in an attempt to make me step back.

I frown but give her the space she needs, walking backward until I feel another wall behind me. My back hits it with a thump, and my legs give way. I slide down, my leather jacket creaking against the wallpaper as my knees come up and my ass hits the floor beside the front door.

Pressing my forehead to my knees, I sit there as the world around me seems to swirl and dance in a mess of destruction and bad fucking life decisions.

I can hear Everly breathing, it’s labored and almost matches mine, understandable given that I’d just attacked her for a long time without coming up for air.

“What the fuck was that?” she finally demands, but it’s not very strong, more curious.

Shaking my head, I try to swallow, my throat nervous and dry. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or who the hell I am anymore.” I don’t bother to look up, enjoying the darkness and how I feel like it’s hiding me from the world.

When I expect her to snap and call me crazy, this beautiful girl surprises me once again. I hear her sliding down the wall opposite me, and I blink as I look up. She’s assessing me, her head tilted to the side. “You can’t tell me that the amazing Luca, know it all extraordinaire, doesn’t actually know it all,” she comments with a quirk in the corner of her mouth like she’s testing the waters, to see how far she can push or whether I’m actually too far gone.

I don’t bite back, and she continues to stare, our eyes just holding the gaze between us. Watching, and feeling the buzz in the air, swirling around us like a pending storm, she must see something inside me. Something I’ve done pretty well so far at hiding because her whole body softens and the look on her face warms like she can almost feel my pain.

“Come on, we can go to my room…” I sit a little taller, my brows rising and the corner of my lip turning up, “… to talk,” she adds sternly, pushing to her feet and then holding out her hand to me.

It looks like a lifeline, one that I desperately need right now. So, I take a deep breath and place my palm in hers, allowing her to support me. Because, if we’re being honest, I’m not sure I can push myself up on my own. The moment we touch, I don’t feel the electric shock that I once did, that bolt of energy that went through me when my lips touched hers. Instead, I feel comfort and a sense of peace and understanding move through me.

It’s deeper and far more intense than just any kiss, or any connection I’ve felt before. And the surprising part is, that it doesn’t scare me, not one single bit.

I’ve always blocked women out, keeping them at a distance so they can only ever see the fun, crazy me, never the broken and damaged little boy that hides inside. Everly’s different, though. There’s a part of me, deep down in the depths of my soul that wants her to know every single side I have to show.

I don’t want to hide anything from her.

I want her to know the real me—to accept the real me.

Everly closes the front door, leaving the sun to set behind it and dusk to fall as she leads me to the staircase and we ascend it slowly, not talking, just being at ease with each other, our hands interlinked between us. It feels normal, not weird or contrived.

We make our way in silence all the way down the end of the hall, and Everly reaches for the door at the end, pushing it open. I swallow hard, feeling a little wave of tension rolling through me. I’m nervous—it’s odd being at a girl’s house where she lives with her mother. I feel kind of like a teenager all over again being smuggled in.

I look to Everly as she flicks on her light. “Where’s your mom?”

She shrugs innocently, obviously not seeing the thoughts running through my mind. “She’s at work… night shift. Won’t be home until midnight. It’s okay, we can chat for a few hours without any interruptions.”

“What makes you think I need a few hours?” I ask jokingly.

She steps back, her hand slipping from mine. My face instantly turns to a frown, and I have to stop myself from reaching out to pull her back. She looks me up and down, and I begin to feel a little exposed like she can see right through me.

“By the looks of you and the state you were in when you got here, I think we’ll need a while to sort your head. But then again, you might need a lifetime to sort the mess in that head of yours.”

“Hey now…” I warn mockingly.

“Kidding,” she says with a giant smile, before adding, “… kinda.” She moves back to the bedroom door and closes it behind me, and it’s not until I look at her I notice she’s wearing a cute little set of purple pajamas, then I glance around her room, that feeling of a giddy teenager returns. Her room is filled with trophies and cheerleading paraphernalia. Blue and yellow line the walls in her squad colors and I raise my brow, not realizing from our brief conversation just how into this she is.

Suddenly, thoughts of how flexible she might be, enter my mind, and I groan under my breath as I try my hardest to force the sexual thoughts from my mind.

Everly’s bed is enormous, a lavish queen, dolled up in white linens with lots of pillows. An array of stuffed toys line the top of her bed. The look is old but well-kept.

I smirk, looking to Everly as a flush of red brightens her cheeks. “Cute,” I say.

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she walks to her bed and takes a seat at the edge and pats the mattress next to her. “C’mon, come talk to me.”

I take the invitation, inhaling deeply. “My mom died,” I say bluntly, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Everly’s eyes open widely, and she reaches out her hand, squeezing my knee in a comforting gesture. “Oh God… I’m so sorry, Luca.”

I snort and shake my head. “Don’t be, I’m not.”

She furrows her brows and jolts her head back slightly. “Ummm… okay. How did she die?”

“Karma,” I murmured. “She died of karma.”

Everly sighs dramatically. “Okay, this really isn’t going the way I thought it was going to. So can you tell me what the hell is going on with you?”

Part of me doesn’t want her to see me this way, so open and exposed. But the other part knows I’ll feel so much better because she will understand, she won’t judge me for feeling the way I feel, that’s something I’m sure of. I’m so sick of laying everything on Kace, and now he has Lily, I don’t want to burden him. I only want to see Kace happy, not drowning in my mental issues like he has for the past six years.

“I was put in foster care when I was ten because my mom was a crack whore who couldn’t handle being a mother. She should have never been allowed to have kids.”

Everly scoots back and brings her legs up, folding them. “Kids… as in, plural?”

I exhale, falling back onto the bed and looking up at the ceiling. I’m trying to fight the burning in my throat and the way I can feel my eyes welling. I’ve managed to keep the tears at bay so far, and the last thing I want right now is for Everly to see me bawling like a baby. “Things were really shitty with Mom and me,” I croak and then clear my throat to try and get some semblance of control over my voice. “I was so little, and she couldn’t protect me, not from the men she had around. They were big, and I was only a tiny thing. She never learned. Once she got rid of one abusive man, the next would be the same… or worse.”

A shudder runs through me as I’m plagued by the shitty memories of my childhood. I need to keep going if I’m going to get it all out. “The beatings, the yelling, the abuse. They would take our money, so we had nothing, and anything Mom had left over she would use to get high. I can remember searching through a garbage can one night and finding a tin of dog food to eat because I was that damn hungry.”

I gave up being embarrassed about the things I did when I was younger a long time ago. That was how I survived. How I managed to stay alive in a place where sometimes I thought I’d almost be better off dead.

Everly doesn’t say anything, just tightens her hand on my knee as I hear her breathing deepen slightly like this is really affecting her.

“So when Mom fell pregnant again, she wanted to make things right. She wanted to make us a happy little family, get a job, make things good for the three of us,” I continue, powering through the pain. “We found out through the one scan she had that it was a girl. Mom sorted her shit out and got herself a part-time job at a bar. She was still using but much less, and I had food all the time. Nothing fancy, but enough. One night she brought a guy home from the bar, he looked really shady. When he realized we didn’t have anything he could steal or any money, he beat my mom senseless until she could barely walk. She was almost at her due date, and I remember her screams as she lay on the floor bleeding.”

“Jesus Christ, Luca,” Everly whispers in absolute horror. She moves closer, her hand reaching out to comfort me but I cringe away. I feel dirty, fucking damaged and destroyed. And it only gets worse.

“We went to the hospital, they took me to a separate part so the nurses could look after me. Then all of a sudden, they told me my mom had left, and I was being taken by CPS,” my voice turns raspy and hard, I feel like I’m choking on my words as I push through the emotions that are washing over me. “She left me, and even though when I think about it things got better after that, she still left. She gave up and let me go without even saying goodbye. That broke me.”

“You made it, though. You made it out the other side and look at what you’ve accomplished,” Everly whispers with an encouraging smile.

I laugh, it’s dry and void of humor. “I found a way to get through everything by being someone else. Not the scared little boy afraid of everyone and everything. I had to find humor in everything because to me nothing was funny. That’s why I’m the way I am, Everly. I joke, I poke fun, and sometimes it makes me come off as an asshole, but it’s a coping mechanism that I’ve learned to use to survive.”

“I know what it feels like to lose someone,” Everly says softly, and I can’t help but snort. I know she’s trying to be supportive, and I don’t mean to downplay her losing her dad, but there’s one significant difference between the two scenarios.

“I really don’t feel like I’ve lost anything. I was doing perfectly okay when she wasn’t around. I made this life for myself. I learned to cook. I learned to fight. I graduated high school and got my first girlfriend all on my own. I didn’t need her for any of that. But now, even in death, she’s forced herself back into my life, and suddenly I’m right back to being that scared little ten-year-old boy again.” I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes tightly shut.

“Okay, so you’re strong, you’re a fighter, I get it,” Everly says, and even though I can’t see her, I can basically hear her roll her eyes. “But it’s okay to feel something every now and then. You don’t have to pretend to be so hard and unfazed all the time. Let yourself feel something. Even though you believe you hated your mom, she’s still your mom and part of you. Even a small part must still love her.”

I throw my arm over my eyes and take a deep breath as Everly lays back on the bed beside me. She slowly slips her hand into mine, but doesn’t say anything or make any other move to comfort me.

I peek at her from underneath my arm. “Go on, laugh, you know you want to. Tell me I’m a sad sack of shit.”

“Shut up, Luca,” she says, staring at the ceiling, squeezing my hand in a vise grip that makes me wince. “Seriously, there’s nothing you could say right now that would hurt me—”

“Luca, shut the fuck up.”

I open my mouth to throw some serious sass back at her, but she just grabs a teddy bear with her free hand and swings it over in an arc hitting me right in the face. My eyes widen in surprise.

“Just shut up, and let me be here for you. The real you. Not the you who needs to make sarcastic comments every damn two seconds. Just let me lie here with you.”

I’m so surprised by the turn of events that I can’t even form a reply. Inhaling deeply, I turn my attention to the ceiling, copying her position, but enjoying the way our hands are clasped between us, connecting our bodies and energy. And at that moment I just feel… peace.

There’s nothing but her and I. No dead mother or new siblings, just the girl who now sees me for who I am and still wants to lay here with me.