“Why did you bring me here? To your family?” I ask, stepping beside him until we’re shoulder to shoulder. There’s a large BBQ area with tables, chairs, and a standing bar. I could imagine countless nights of their friends coming over for a cookout. Laughing, drinking, doing all that shit that happy homes do when they aren’t confined by the restraints of abuse. I could picture it, but I could never understand it.

“I was once in your shoes. Pearl knows it, and that is why she agreed to my having you both here.” He turns to lean against the railing, his attention solely on me. “When I look at you, I see me. A scared boy with no one to turn to and a sister he needs to protect.”

“You don’t know me, though. I could be worse than what you’re picturing right now.”

He chuckles after a moment, and it’s the first time that I’ve realized he has tattoos on his arms and hands. “Son, I come from a world where trust doesn’t mean shit. Trust is a word that people who don’t understand it throw around in hopes to win your approval.” He crosses his ankles at his feet. “You wanna know why I’m saving you?” The corner of his mouth curves upward. “The answer is simple. I think you can be trusted, because unlike the people I know, you have a moral compass. Loyalty. Compassion.” He reaches into the inside of his jacket, pulling out the packet of cigarettes that are tucked in his pocket. Banging the bottom onto his palm, he bites a trunk into his mouth and uses his other hand to light the end. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, he points to me with his fingers. “I was in your shoes when I was around your age.” As much as I try to seek the truth behind his words, I know that there’s no hidden agenda to them. There’s something trusting about the way he speaks. The confidence.

He takes another inhale of his smoke. “My only rule is don’t touch my kid unless I say you can.”

“Your kid?” I raise a brow at his choice of words. The girl is hardly a kid, but I’ll play.

The corner of his mouth curves. “And a favor… then I will make all this bullshit disappear.”

“What?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.

“Come to work with me next week. Last seventy-four hours. If you last that long, I will offer you and your sister a safe home here. Your charges? Gone. Your troubles?” His dark brows fly to his hairline, and it’s the first time I feel like I might be making a deal with the devil. “Definitely gone.”