Page 113 of Liars

So why did it feel…wrong?

Why did the thought of leaving feel like ripping myself away from something I wasn’t ready to lose?

I wet my lips. “As much as I would love that, I can’t.”

Brock’s expression hardened. “Why?”

I hesitated. “Donovan is my legal guardian. If I disappear, he’ll send the cops after me. And you. I won’t put you in that position.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Well, I do.” Stubbornness ran in our blood.

His fists clenched. “I can take care of it. You’re family, Kay. You shouldn’t be living in that house.”

I forced myself to breathe. “It’s only four more months. I’ll be eighteen soon.”

“A lot can happen in four months.”

I knew that.

And that terrified me more than anything.

“Do you know anything about my parents?” I asked steadily, but inside, I was anything but. A taut ache unfurled in my chest as I met Brock’s gaze, searching for something—truth, reassurance, maybe even a lie I could cling to.

Our mothers were sisters. They had been close. They had talked. Surely, if there had been anything seedy going on, my mom would have told her. Or so I wanted to believe. I needed Brock to tell me that everything I’d heard about my father was just another twisted fabrication.

Brock’s expression hardened. “Like what?”

I swallowed, pulse hammering. “I don’t know. About my dad? His business?”

A shadow passed over his face, and a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place passed through his aqua eyes—hesitation, maybe regret. “Who have you been talking to?” His voice had lost its usual easy edge.

Josie placed a hand on his shoulder, a silent offer of comfort.

“No one.” I shrugged, playing it off, even as my stomach churned. “It’s just something I heard.”

His jaw tightened. One brow arched, sharp and skeptical. “From them?” His meaning was clear. Them—the Corvos. “You can’t believe anything they tell you, Kay. They can’t be trusted.”

I studied him carefully. He still hadn’t answered my question. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. “So it’s true, then?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It’s complicated.”

Anger burned through me, hot and fast. “Not really. He either was or wasn’t mixed up in illegal shit.” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I was done with half answers.

Brock exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. His hesitation was answer enough.

“Shit,” I muttered, my throat tightening. “It’s true.”

His gaze softened, but there was an urgency behind it, a plea. “He didn’t want you involved in this, Kay. It was part of his life before he met your mother. He tried to get out, tried to end it, but things got…complicated.”

“Yeah,” I said bitterly, rubbing my fingers up and down my arms. “You said that already.”

Brock took a step closer, Josie’s hand falling away from his shoulder. He lowered his voice. “Listen to me. It might not seem like it, but he was trying to protect not just you and your mom but an entire community. He had people who depended on him. Financially. For security. For survival. Not everything is cut and dry out there, Kay.” He shook his head, his expression resolute. “I don’t care what anyone says. Your father was one of the good guys.”

I let out a hollow laugh, but it caught in my throat. “One of the good guys who got himself killed.”

Something flickered in Brock’s eyes—guilt, pain, anger. I didn’t know which. Maybe all of them. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said quietly with an intensity that sent a chill through me. “You’re not alone. I’m watching you.”

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