“My father saw raw talent and that’s what he went for,” I said, even though I knew that wasn’t exactly the only reason. My dad had grown up on the streets of Natal, Brazil. Brock had a hard childhood, but it paled in comparison to my father and uncles. My dad saw a kindred soul in Brock . . . and a son he never had.

“It was pretty late when her dad brought me to the house and he left me in the living room very briefly. I’d never . . . never been in a house like that before.” A distant look glazed over his eyes. “It was just outside the city, huge and yet still somehow warm. No cockroaches crawling on walls or rats scurrying in the dark corners. It was the kind of house I’d never dreamed of entering.”

Grady was riveted as he slowly lowered his glass to the table, and I swallowed hard, thinking of the deep well of dark memories Brock had of his life before my father opened up our home to him.

“I was about to follow him into the kitchen when I looked over at the stairwell. You see, they have this half-enclosed stairway that empties into the front room and atrium. It was dark, but there was a little shadow plastered to the wall, peeking around it.” A slow grin appeared on Brock’s face. “All I saw was this hair—dark brown hair—and big eyes.”

Scooting forward, I placed my elbow on the table and rested my cheek in my hand.

“It was little Jillybean.” Brock laughed while I rolled my eyes. “She was eavesdropping on us and her father had no idea she was up. We made eye contact and I half-suspected her to run up the stairs, because I had just . . . well, I’d just gotten into a fight before running into her father. I was looking pretty rough.”

I sat there and wondered in a daze what in the hell had happened. Brock had successfully commandeered what was left of my date, beguiling Grady with tales of our childhood.

I was going to seriously kill him.

“You didn’t run?” Grady asked me.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I leaned back once more, dropping my hands into my lap as I sucked in a sharp breath. I felt Brock’s fingers suddenly tangling in the mass of my hair.

What was he doing?

“No, she smiled at me and then gave me this little wave.” Brock slid me a sidelong glance. Our eyes met, and the air around us felt heavy as his fingers sifted through my hair without Grady seeing. “It was . . . adorable.”

Oh my.