A Love So Dangerous - Lili Valente Page 0,3

from over my shoulder, so close it feels like they’re echoing inside my skull.

I jump and turn to see Isaac standing behind me, arms held out. It’s only then that I realize Emmie’s squirming has become fussing—or as close as she ever gets to fussing.

Emmie’s always been quiet and small. Slow to walk, slower to talk, and always lagging in the pitiful percentiles on the charts the doctor fills out on her well-baby visits. But I don’t pay attention to the pity in Dr. Naper’s eyes when he talks about her developmental delays. Emmie is no dummy. I see her smarts in the clear blue eyes that look up at me when I scoop her up out of bed every morning. One day she’s going to start talking a blue streak and make every doctor who ever threw around words like “fetal alcohol syndrome” eat their words. I believe that—believe in her—with my entire heart.

“No foster parent is going to know her like I do,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes as I hand Emmie over to Isaac. “They won’t fight for her, like I had to fight for Ray when that bitch, Mrs. Porter, wanted to flunk him after Mom left.”

Isaac’s forehead wrinkles, making him look like a sad puppy. “Let me get Emmie in her high chair,” he says softly. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I nod, rubbing the tears from my eyes with the backs of my fists, ashamed of myself. I don’t cry. I don’t have time, especially not now. I need to focus on pulling a solution out of my ass, not waste time whining about shit that hasn’t even happened yet.

By the time Isaac comes back into the kitchen with two slices of pepperoni on a plate, my boo-hooing is over, replaced by the more familiar waves of acid lapping at the back of my throat. When he tries to hand over the pizza, I shake my head and hold up one hand. “I have to let the stomach volcano calm down first.”

Isaac sets the plate on the counter where, moments before, I was playing Jenga with the bills. “That bad, huh?”

I nod, biting my lip, refusing to get emotional again. It’s not going to do anyone any good, least of all the kids. “I’ve been over everything a hundred times. I just don’t see how we can swing it.”

“Well…” Isaac lets out a soft sigh as he leans against the counter beside me. “I’ve been thinking… I could give up my apartment and move back in with my parents. That would put me in a position to give you a loan.”

I shake my head more emphatically. “No way. I won’t let you do that. You and Ian would kill each other.”

Ian, Isaac’s little brother, is as big a waste of flesh as my sister. Ian did time for sexual assault—a rape he swore he didn’t commit, but no one who knew him was surprised when he was found guilty. He’s been crashing with his parents since he got out of jail, sitting on his ass for the better part of ten months, whining about how hard it is for a felon to get a job. Meanwhile, Isaac gave up getting his business degree to take over the pizza place, while Ian—who could have worked at his dad’s restaurant, it’s not like it was within two thousand feet of an elementary school or something—said he didn’t have it in him to sweat over an oven after spending a year cooking for the other inmates at the state prison. And, incredibly, their mom humors the asshole, babying Ian while she leans on Isaac so hard it’s a miracle he hasn’t cracked under the pressure.

No, Isaac has enough on his plate. I can’t let him take the kind of hit moving back in with his parents would deliver, not even for the kids.

“We wouldn’t kill each other,” Isaac says. “I might pound him into a bloody smear on the wall now and then, but…he’d survive. Most likely.”

I smile. “And if he didn’t, you’d go to prison, and then whose couch would I crash on when I’m homeless?”

The humor vanishes from Isaac’s expression. “You’re not going to be homeless. We’re going to figure this out, Caitlin.”

“How?” I ask, pressing my lips together as I shake my head. “I can’t let this shit drag anyone else down but…I can’t see a way out. We’re drowning, and I can’t find a life boat, no matter where I look.”

“It’s going