“I hope you know that I truly am glad Cleo has remembered you. She deserves to have her entire family.”
“You’re not her family.” Leaning forward, Richter braces his elbows on his knees, holding the coffee between his legs as he stares holes in the floor. His anger radiates off him in waves, but that’s just because he hasn’t learned to control it yet. I’ve acted brash in the past, but I’ve learned it’s better to stay in control. Easier to be calm, controlled… especially when hard decisions must be made.
“You’re my brother, and therefore she’s my sister. Just like Jocelyn.”
“Jocelyn?” Richter repeats, looking up at me with his brows furrowed, and realization slowly dawns on me.
“What was your mother’s name, Richter?”
“Darby.” His tone is cautious, but his curiosity has drained the anger from him, which is good.
Shaking my head, I chuckle a little under my breath. “Luke got farther than I thought it seems.”
“What do you mean? Who’s Jocelyn?” Richter sits up, focused on me now and not the extended time Bill has taken on the tires per my request.
“Jocelyn was my sister. She was born when I lived with Luke, and after that he sent me away because his new wife didn’t like me.” I shrug, relieved those old wounds don’t sting the way they used to. “If I had to guess, I’d bet Jocelyn was Darby’s mother.”
“My grandmother?” he asks, but it’s not directed at me. He’s just processing the information, rolling it around in his head, so I stay quiet. Sip my coffee, watch the second hand of the clock tick more time away, waiting for him to speak again. “Did… did Dad have any other kids?”
“I don’t know. I was his first born, but he didn’t know about me until I was seven. There weren’t any other kids until Jocelyn was born the year I turned fifteen.” Glancing toward the door, I take a slow breath remembering how much I’d begged to stay when Luke kicked me out.
I didn’t want to go back to my mother. Whore, drug addict… it had felt like a death sentence. Worse than the oubliette could ever be, but it had led me to Marian. Brought me my family, and in some ways I think Luke must have known I would carry on his legacy.
I’m sure it’s why he came to find me, to see what I’d done with my family. He took Tristan and Xoe to bed when he visited, and there’s a chance one or two of the kids could be his—which would only mean our family is closer than Richter could ever imagine.
But all of that is too much to press on the boy right now. I know if he has any hope of saving himself, I can’t tip the scales with knowledge that doesn’t matter anymore.
All that matters now is the family still above ground. The ones who can carry on the Greene Family legacy.
“I never knew her name,” he mumbles, taking another sip of his coffee as he stares at nothing.
“Then I’m glad I was able to give you that. I wish I knew more, Richter.”
“Well, like you said. You weren’t there. Dad didn’t want you, and I don’t either.” Standing up, he glances out the door again before muttering a curse under his breath. “I’m going to the restroom. Tell your friend to hurry up.”
“Sure,” I reply, smiling at him as he stomps into the small bathroom behind the counter and shuts the door too hard.
Rising from the chair, I dig in my pocket for the little pill I brought from home. There’s still a few more leftover from when Damon broke his arm falling off the damn roof, and I know it’ll help Richter give into his exhaustion on the drive to our home.
Moving quickly, I set it on the table beside his coffee and take out my pocketknife. I cut it in half, then cut those pieces in half, and use the flat of the blade to crush them into as much of a powder as I can. With all the sugar Richter dumped in his coffee, he likely won’t notice the taste, but he only needs a bit anyway. Brushing the powder into my hand, I put it in his coffee, swirling the cup a few times before I dust off the table and return to my seat, grabbing a magazine to flip through it.
When the bathroom door opens a couple of minutes later, Bill is already walking inside, giving me a nod. “About done, just need to know how you’re paying before I take the truck down.”
“I’ve got it,” Richter says, and Bill glances at him for a second, but then his eyes are back on me. He waits until I nod, acknowledging he’s stalled long enough, before he walks over to take Richter’s money.
The town we live near is small, mostly farmers and their families, and the best part of it is that everyone minds their own business—but they protect their own. And whether Richter realizes it or not, he’s an outsider here.
“Took long enough,” Richter snaps as he pays, and I put the magazine aside to stand up.
“That wasn’t polite,” I chastise, my voice carrying more of an edge than I want it to, but disrespect pisses me off almost as much as betrayal. “You should apologize to Bill. He’s helping us out and he gave you a good deal on the tires.”
“Sorry,” Richter says insincerely, glancing at Bill who just stands behind the register with his arms crossed. The man doesn’t move, or reply, and Richter groans. “Look, I appreciate your help, I just need to get home to my sisters. I’m sorry, okay?”
“All right,” Bill replies, nodding his head once before he moves toward the door.
