I blow a tuft of hair from my face. “Yeah. Well. Just another one of his mastermind manipulations.”
“Where was all that money going?” Mom asks.
My shoulders lift and fall. “They were all cash advances, all taken from various ATMs in the tri-county area. We’ll never know.”
Dad’s breathing grows so loud that we all check to see if it’s our black lab, Louie, snoring in the corner. His knotty hands knead together as he concentrates on the floral centerpiece ahead of him.
Delilah whispers in my ear, asking if I’m okay, and I nod. It’s not easy telling my parents what they don’t want to hear, but I’m feeling lighter now that it’s all out.
“I wanted to wait,” I say. “I was going to wait until Brooks was better. Recovered. I wanted to do this gracefully because I know how people talk, and I know how this looks. Believe me. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t believe the timing either.”
Dad’s heavy gaze finds mine, and he exhales slowly.
“But I couldn’t stand being next to him another minute. Not after everything he’d done.” I look to Derek, and his lips form a straight line. I’m starting to think his body language is more about his disappointment in Brooks than me. I square my shoulders with his. “I’m sorry, Derek.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, kid,” he says.
I wear a weary smile. He hasn’t called me kid since we were . . . kids. As he’s just a year older than me, he always had to remind me that he was the older one.
“Brooks is a piece of shit, as far as I’m concerned,” Derek says. “And thank God you’ve got access to two of the fiercest prosecuting attorneys in the state of New York.”
Mom nods, though she still looks like she’s in a daze.
“How are you doing over there, Bliss?” Dad asks. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, Robert. Just disappointed. It’s Royal all over again.” Mom’s words suck the oxygen from the room, and we all snap our gazes toward her.
Royal’s name hasn’t been muttered in this house in seven painstakingly long years.
“I never should’ve gotten attached,” she says. “I just can’t help it. I treat everyone like family. I love everyone like family. You just never expect them to let you down.”
Her words dwindle to near inaudible levels, and then she stands, releases a sigh, and leaves the room.
Dad and Derek exchange looks, and Delilah nudges me.
“I saw Royal last week,” I blurt before I chicken out.
Derek’s neck snaps back, his hands dragging down his face.
“What did you say?” My father shifts his entire body toward me.
“Actually,” I say, “I’ve been seeing a lot of him lately. He came by last week after he heard about Brooks. He’s actually been helping me—”
Dad stands, his way of telling me the conversation is over.
“Dad, hear her out,” Delilah says.
He shakes his head, stomping toward the kitchen, where he yanks a bottle of wine from the wine fridge and proceeds to pour himself a generous glass.
“Royal did something very bad, Demetria,” he says after taking a heavy sip. “He’s not the person you think he is.”
I shake my head. “Then tell me. Tell me what he did. I’m twenty-five years old. I deserve to know. I can handle it.”
His gray eyes are hooded, and he looks exhausted, though I suspect it’s more emotional than anything else.
“I can’t, Demi. I’ve protected you this long,” he says. “You’re better off not knowing. Let’s put it that way. Remember the good things about him, because this is the kind of thing you can never un-learn. This will shadow all those good memories. All those happy times. I’ve never wanted to take those away from you.”
“He’s innocent,” I say.
Dad scoffs. “You don’t even know what he did; how can you say he’s innocent?”
“I . . . I just know. It’s a gut feeling. He’s a good man. You need to meet him—the person he’s become. I want to bring him for Thanksgiving next week.” I release my hand from Delilah’s and go to my father. “Please. Give him a chance to redeem himself.”
He takes a swig of wine and flashes a hopeless frown. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard criminals profess their innocence? People like that lie all the time, about everything. They make a joke out of God-fearing people like us.”
“People like that?” I mimic his words. “Royal is one of us. He practically grew up under this roof. He played outside with us. He unwrapped Christmas presents under our tree. You were more of a father to him than all of his foster fathers combined. How can you just stand there and act like he’s trash?”