Page 53 of Fate and Family

“Truth.”

His breathing slows, and his eyelids lose the fight against gravity. “But it would be nice to be Raph…”

Because he’s not alone.

Fuck!This kid guts me. I don’t know how much more I can take. My emotional rollercoaster takes another dive with like fifteen spirals.

I stay with him until he’s out cold, then scurry out of his room like this is another failure of mine.

The morning brings three sneezes out of him. “Oh no, you’re sick,” I say in a melodramatic way. “Guess you need to stay home.”

But Ian arches an eyebrow between his bites of cereal. “No. I’ll go to school.” He grins. “And I’ll spread my germs.”

“You’re an evil genius.” I pat his shoulder and head back to bed.

The next night at work on my normal shift, I head into the staff room to find Joey leaning against the wall, watching my every step.

“You know you’re not supposed to have any relationships with the clients.”

“I didn’t take Tawny’s number,” I counter.

But Joey furrows his brows and points to a box on his desk. The box is black with a white ribbon. “I found it this morning. It’s got your name on it.”

My hand hesitates to reach for it. Every part of my brain screams it’s a trap. But what if? I swearwhat ifwill kill me one day. The box has weight to it, but isn’t heavy. My name is typed on a label on the side. Pulling the ribbon off like I’m removing a dress from only one woman, I try not to let my imagination get the best of me.

Black glass, rectangular shape. It’s a phone. A burner.

When it comes to life, a pinned location pops up and a countdown starts. One hundred and four days. Three and a half months. My cheeks burn as I smile. I close the map, and the wallpaper on the display is an otter.

Katya.

“I’m not a fan of clandestine shit. You know that, right? I like things predictable and safe,” Joey grumbles, and I opt not to remind him that he’s a full-time criminal.

But I hold this phone in my hands, and it feels real, tangible. It’s hope.

At the end of the week, there’s a knock on the apartment door. Ian spread his plague to me, Uri, and half the kids in his class. Between stuffy noses, watery eyes, and a pounding head, Ialmost missed it. Blinking a few times, it registers that Alana is standing in my doorway.

“Aunt Alana!” Ian jumps to his feet and sprints to her, his arms wide open. She hands me a duffle bag just before wrapping her arms around him.

“I brought you a gift,” she attempts to say in Russian, but her pronunciation is all wrong, and it takes him a few seconds to translate what she’s trying to say.

“You.” he says in English.

“No, I think it’s whatever is in this bag.” I lift it to show him. Whatever it is, it’s lighter than it seems.

She nods at the bag and back to him. He opens it, and there’s a white shirt, blue pants, and a navy blue suit jacket. Ian glances between the two of us.

“It’s your new school uniform. You start on Monday. Uri, can you?”

Uri comes over and coughs, holding his side, and translates for Ian. “The school is smaller, and they’ve hired a special teacher to help you learn English. Shae goes there, and my goddaughters attend preschool there three days a week.”

Ian gives her his “gee thanks” half-hearted smile, but we can all tell he’s underwhelmed.

“What makes this school different?” Uri asks in English.

“It’s a prep school for the elite.”

“Sounds terrible.”

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