“Look, you do have a lot of homework. Maybe Nixon can help you?”
“Help me?” she repeated, and then tilted her head to the side. Before I could back up any farther she reached up and felt my forehead. “Are you sick?”
“No.” I swatted her hand away. “I’m just… cooking.”
Oh God kill me now.
“Cooking?”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
“Depends.” She shrugged. “You gonna stop acting like an ass?”
I grinned. “Nope.”
Trace swatted the back of my head. “There he is. Welcome back, ass**le; don’t scare me like that. You’re making me nervous with all this baking and ordering me to be responsible and do my homework. You’re not my brother, you know.”
The huge gulp of wine I had just taken spewed out of my mouth and onto the stove.
The room fell silent, and then Nixon clapped. “Well done, you’ve finally shocked the hell out of him, Trace.”
I wiped my face and threw the wine-stained towel at Nixon’s head. “Whatever. Wash up, children, dinner’s almost ready.”
“Yes ma!” they all yelled as they went to set the table, leaving me alone in the kitchen yet again.
I leaned over the sink and told myself to keep the contents of my stomach inside, not out.
Brother? A freaking brother? Was she insane? Yeah, pretty sure I would never, ever think of her as family. She wasn’t family. She was—shit. She was everything.
Chapter Nineteen
Nixon
Well, that was awkward. Points go to Chase for not completely losing his shit while Tracey touched his forehead and then proceeded to tell him not to be an ass. If it hadn’t been my girlfriend he was crushing on—I may have found it funny.
But it wasn’t.
So instead, to rein in my anger I was clenching my fork and trying my damnedest not to bend it in half while we all sat around the table like a happy little family.
“So.” Mo dipped her bread in the olive oil in the middle of the table and stuffed it into her mouth. “Any updates, Nixon?”
I shrugged and poured myself another glass of wine. “Nothing helpful. I’ve been looking through all the accounts from the De Lange family. The same as always. We’re working on a hunch. We know my father didn’t kill anyone, but that’s it. We don’t know anything else, and now that Trace’s grandpa isn’t here it’s not like he can even help us. I mean, he’d die before we could even gain access to what we’d need.”
Trace dropped her fork onto the plate. “My grandfather?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed her back. “Trace, I’m sorry, it’s just, he’s the only one involved in this who wasn’t still watching cartoons and playing with toy soldiers when everything took place.”
She grimaced. “I wish I could be more help. I feel like everyone’s risking so much for me and I’m not even doing anything to make it better. If anything it’s worse.”
“Whatever.” Mo thrust her fork into the air. “Boots, things sucked before you came around. Nixon never smiled and I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t have shown up Chase would have gotten one of his professors preggo.”
“Thanks, Mo.” Chase flipped her off.
“Whatever.” Mo rolled her eyes. “This is our family. This is life, take it or leave it. If it wasn’t you it would be something else, so for right now we just need to focus on…” Her eyes darted to mine. In fact, everyone’s did. Right. No pressure.
“The past,” I said slowly. “We need to focus on the past.”
“Trace…” Tex leaned in and grabbed a piece of bread. “Do you remember anything about that night—?”
“Tex,” Chase snapped. “Leave her alone.”
Staying true to my ability to be a complete ass, I said, “I agree with Tex. Sorry, Trace, but we need to know. I know you were six, but do you recall anything at all? Any words your grandfather said to your grandmother? Anything in Sicilian?”
Trace looked down at her plate. “Guys, I wish I could help you but there isn’t anything—”
She jolted out of her chair and ran out of the room.
“Well done,” Chase snapped, “Cause her to have a nervous breakdown why don’t you?” He threw his napkin onto his plate and stood just as Trace ran back into the room.
“This!” She held a small book in her hand. “My grandma kept this with her all the time. She even slept with it at night. Before she died, she said she wanted me to tell their story. How her and my grandfather met, but… the thing is… although my grandfather gave it to me, he never gave me the key.”
“We don’t need a key.” I held out my hand.
Trace placed the small leather case onto my palm. It was secured with a pretty legit lock, but it was also really old. I pulled at the lock a few times.
Tex chuckled and said in a terrible impersonation of my voice, “We don’t need a key.”
I flipped him off and tried again.
“Idiots.” Mo sighed. “All of you.” She held out her hand. “Give me the book.”
“Pardon?”
“Give me the book.”
“What? You looking for a mirror? Mo, just let the guys take care of this one, okay?”
Trace slapped the back of my head so hard I could have sworn my teeth went numb. “Asshole, hand her the book.”