Page 56 of Reaper's Desire

"Do you have siblings?"

"No. It was just me and my mother."

I decide to push slightly. "Was?"

His lips press together, and I think he's going to stop the conversation, but instead he downs the rest of the glass, pours more, and lets out a sharp breath. "Go grab another bottle."

Eagerly, I obey. If it means learning more about him, I'll sit out here and drink wine with him all night. I would anyway, honestly.

When I come back out, he tops off both of our glasses, sinking down onto the concrete balcony with his back against the railing. I sit down beside him, and he turns to look at me.

"Your turn. Then I'll tell you more."

"My turn, what?" I blink at him, and he rolls his eyes slightly.

"To tell me something. Do you have siblings? Both parents still married?"

I chew on my lower lip and take another drink. The wine is hitting me quickly, and I feel a fuzziness around the edges, a warmth that doesn't match what I tell him next.

"No, I'm an only child, too. And my mother died when I was young. A car accident."

Julian winces, his eyes widening slightly before he takes another deep drink of his wine. "Shit. I'm sorry." He lets out a breath. "Me too."

"You…"

"My mother. She died when I was twenty-three. Cancer." His jaw clenches. "We tried everything we could, but nothing was going to save her."

For the first time, I see a clear, blatant emotion on his face. Pain. Such deep, heavy pain that I'm not sure what could ever fix it.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper.

"It was a long time ago. Fifteen years, actually." He swallows hard, then drains his wine like he's taking a shot and refills the glass. "I've just been on my own since then."

There's a moment of silence, and then I find the courage to speak. "It's hard, isn't it? For them to just be… gone. I never knew anyone close to me who died before that. Even though I was old enough to understand what had happened, it was so hard to wrap my head around the idea that hours before my mother had been alive, and herself… and then she was just… not. My father always tried to be loving, but he was more the type to love by giving things. My mom loved by giving people herself. She was always there if someone needed to listen. She volunteered a lot, I think because a lot of the people in our circledidn'tneed the kind of help she wanted to give."

Julian swallows hard. "Yeah, my mom did that, too. She had her hands full raising me on her own and keeping us afloat, but she still helped out everyone. She volunteered every weekend. We had this tradition of her taking me to help at the homeless shelters on Christmas Eve, and then we spent Christmas Day together. She always donated books we didn't read anymore, clothes I'd grown out of—if there was anything we had that we weren't using, she wouldn't throw it out. She always said someone else could use it if we weren't. She brought people food if they were sick, if they'd had a baby…" He breaks off, his throat moving as he swallows again, the corners of his mouth tight.

"She wouldn't be very happy with how I turned out," he says quietly, looking away from me. His voice is thick, with sadness as well as the wine, I think, and I wonder how much it's affected him to make him open up. But maybe he needed someone to talk to. And I don't want him to stop.

"I don't know if mine would be, either," I whisper. I want to reach out and touch him, but I'm worried it will break the moment. "I worry sometimes she'd think I'm spoiled, that I don't try to do enough for other people. And I am spoiled… I know I am. But I hope she'd also understand how hard it's been to bewithout her, and grow up with just my father and stepmother instead.

Julian nods, still looking at me. "I don't think mine would understand," he murmurs. "I think?—"

He breaks off, letting out a heavy sigh, and I can feel him closing down again. "Sorry," he mutters. "It's not something I talk about."

"It's okay," I say softly. "I don't talk about that much, either. But sometimes, it helps, I think."

"Yeah," he echoes. "Maybe."

I lick my lips, and I see his gaze flick toward my mouth. Normally, I'd try to take advantage of it, but right now seems like the wrong time for seduction, so instead I hurriedly take another drink of my wine. "You said you were in the military?"

"Army. Special forces. Didn't pay very well, though, so when I was almost twenty-two I didn't re-up and found… something more lucrative, instead."

I blink. "The business you do now?"

"You could say that."

What the fuck does that mean?I want to ask, but I feel like I need to be careful about how I ask things. The wrong question will shut him down completely, and I'm not ready for this to end.