Page 87 of The Embers That Remain

“Cali,” he said carefully, “why is someone you used to know texting you like that?”

There wasn’t a version of the truth that didn’t make this worse. Lane set his mug down on the counter. All humor and teasing gone. My thumb hovered over the screen, but I didn’t unlock it.

“Cali.”

I looked at him. He didn’t look away.

“Who is that?” he asked again.

The phone vibrated once more. I didn’t pick it up.

“I’ll handle it,” I said quietly.

Lane’s gaze dropped briefly to the counter, to the envelope, back to me.

“No.” The word knocked something loose. Then he added, softer but sharper in a different way, “You’re going to tell me what this is before it goes any further.”

The silence that followed suggested something was already breaking, and every reason to hide didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Finally, I whispered, “He wants money.” The phone stayed face down between us, silent for the first time since he walked in.

Lane didn’t move. “From you?”

A humorless laugh slipped out of me. “From whoever he can squeeze it out of.”

That earned me a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I’m guessing it didn’t start that way.”

Every muscle in my body tensed because talking about Brett made me feel on edge. “No.” The word came out smaller than I meant it to.

Lane didn’t push, he simply waited, and somehow that patience made it worse. I let out a slow breath.

“He was a firefighter,” I said finally. “Said he’d hit a rough patch because he found out that he had to raise his brother.” I swallowed. “I believed him.”

Lane’s gaze never left my face. “And then?”

My hands moved without permission, fingers picking at nothing on the counter.

“The emergencies changed, but the pattern never did. A rent payment here. A medical bill there. Groceries. His brother needing something he couldn’t provide,” I said.

“His brother?” He asked.

I nodded once. “Jace was a kid. Almost ten. He didn’t have anyone stable. Brett said he didn’t have help to take care of him and that the system would split them up.” My voice strained.

“So I had him placed with me because Brett worked long shifts. Which is almost funny now, considering I was working more hours. The difference was, I made time.”

The kitchen went still. Even Grandpa’s distant noise was far away now. Lane’s jaw flexed once.

“You moved him in?” It wasn’t a question.

I nodded again. “Yes, they called it a kinship placement since we were casually dating, I guess.”

The words sat between us like something fragile and ugly at the same time.

“He made it sound temporary,” I rushed to explain, like that excused anything. “Just until he got stable. Just until he got things figured out. Just until—”

My voice broke slightly, and I stopped. Lane didn’t interrupt or move; he simply stayed there, letting me finish. I forced myself to continue.

“He started covering more things up,” I said. “Because there was always another reason. Always another emergency.”