It wasn’t like I’d planned it.

Sure, I was tired of acting like the two of us were hiding what we were to each other, but I already understood what the problem was with Thea.

Every-fucking-body in town knew what the problem was with Melody Kent. She was a first order bitch in a world that tolerated her because of her wealth. Thea was nothing like her.

My granny used to say that like begat. That could never apply to Thea and her mother. Completely impossible, given I knew what that haughty woman was about a long-ass time ago.

I was only ten years old the first time Melody Kent made a lasting impression on me.

The candy store in St. Gabriel was something of a local hotspot, a popular lunch spot, a popular place for date night, a great place to take your kids on Saturdays. It was just plain popular. Who the hell knows why Melody had been there. I’m pretty sure they don’t sell anything soaked in booze.

I’d been on my way to the front, my ten-dollar allowance clutched in one greedy fist while the candy I’d picked out was clutched in the other—I’d only let myself pick out two dollars’ worth of candy. Two dollars. Because the magic trick I wanted from a store in Baton Rouge cost eight dollars and I knew my dad—he wouldn’t give me any extra money.

I’d just stepped up to the counter when I heard her voice.

“You really should check his pockets, Darla. Boys like him are always free with taking things that aren’t theirs.”

I hadn’t realized she was talking about me.

I just hadn’t.

My daddy was a doctor.

My mother was a teacher and she worked with special needs kids. I earned ten dollars every week because I helped out around the house—I didn’t just clean my room. Mama said that was my job and cleaning my room wasn’t enough to earn money. I had to do more.

If Darla’s eyes hadn’t dropped to me, I wouldn’t have known.

But the sweet old lady had glanced at me. Her mouth had gone tight. She hadn’t been happy and although she didn’t say anything to Melody, I knew the woman behind me had been talking about me.

Blood had roared too loudly in my ears for me to understand anything else and it wasn’t until Mama appeared to take my hand that the world made sense again. She’d said something—she wasn’t happy either. That much I remembered clear as day.

It was later that night that she and I talked again.

We’d had those talks before but this was the first time it clicked.

“You’re going to have people who treat you differently, baby. Whether it’s because they are small minded, or stupid, foolish…there are any number of reasons for it, but you are not a white boy. You’ll never be white even though you’re paler than me. But your heritage comes from two races, and because of that, people will judge you for it. You just have to rise above it and be who you are…a good boy…one who is loved dearly, a boy with lots and lots of talent.”

I’d asked her if that’s what the woman in the candy store had done.

Mama had gotten pissed then.

“No. She judged you because of who I am. But she still would’ve judged you unkindly, baby.”

It wasn’t the first time Melody Kent had caused me grief in my life and if she ever found out about Thea and me, it wouldn’t be the last, either.

Still, while there was a good reason for keeping our relationship quiet as far as Thea’s family went, there wasn’t as much of a reason—or any reason, really—when it came to my family.

We’d just…done it.

That summer day, as she was preparing to start college in Baton Rouge, we’d been having lunch at a café in the city when Mama and Dad walked in and saw us.

I had a crawfish in one hand. The other was empty, ready to crack the head open.

Thea’s eyes were sparkling, her lips curved in a smile as happy as I’d ever seen.

Her brother Nicky sat next to her, and he was laughing at something I’d said.

I liked Nicky.

He was a sweet kid, as innocent as anyone I’d ever met, and I couldn’t understand the hell it must have been for the two of them to live with someone as full of hate as Melody Kent—and she was full of hate. I’d seen the aftereffects of fights gleaming in Thea’s eyes, and although she tried to hide them, I’d also seen bruises, long, ugly marks in the shape of fingers that marred her arms or wrists, evidence of cruel hands grabbing and squeezing.

There had never once been a mark on Nicky—and I’d asked.

Thea told me she checked in on Nicky all the time and she’d told her mother if there was ever a mark on Nicky, she’d go straight to the cops.

I told her she should go anyway.

But she worried what would happen if things didn’t go as they should—would her mother throw her out? If so, who’d watch after Nicky?

I’d asked my dad about child protective services and special needs kids, trying to keep it subtle. I don’t know if I’d succeeded, but he’d advised me that it wasn’t always easy to prove a case of abuse…however, he did have friends who watched for such things.

I took that to mean that Nicky was being watched by two of the toughest pieces of work I could ask to have on my side—my father, and Thea Kent.

Sometimes, I wondered how she could still laugh after living the life she’d led.

When I asked her, she’d push a deck of cards into my hands and whisper, “Show me a trick, Magic Man.”

After I made her smile, she told me, “That’s how.” And she wouldn’t talk about it.

I did what I could to make her laugh.

Although I wasn’t sure what I’d be able to make her laugh about this.

“Mom. Dad.”

She froze, her eyes moving up to the couple standing at the end of the table.

Nicky, as free and open as a child despite the fact that he was just a handful of years younger than Thea, looked up and beamed at them. “Hi. Dr. Brax, hi!”

That was the Nicky I wanted to remember after tragedy had struck.