“Can you tell me what’s going on here, Jeff?” I try to keep my tone even. I sit and hold my bag in my lap.
“You’re Jesse’s guardian?” Jeff asks me.
I glance at Jesse. His eyes are pleading.
“That’s correct.” I swallow back my lie, looking back to Jeff.
“Okay, well, I’m sorry to tell you, but your brother was caught shoplifting by Brett.” He tips his head in the direction of the security guard who is standing by Jesse.
But I can’t look at Brett, the security guard. All I can do is stare at Jesse, who’s looking at everything but me. With a lump in my throat and a sick feeling in my stomach, I know this is my fault.
“I didn’t call the police because I thought we could deal with this in-house.”
The relief I feel at that is immense.
I pull my eyes from Jesse and look back to Jeff. “Thank you so much,” I say in earnest.
“Well, after Jesse said his parents had passed away in such tragic circumstances and that he was under your guardianship…I didn’t want to give the lad, or you, more grief to deal with. And I think he gets that he made a stupid mistake.”
“His parents had passed away in such tragic circumstances.”
One parent, and it wasn’t exactly a tragic circumstance. When did he get so good at lying?
My eyes slide to Jesse. It surprises me that he’s actually looking at me. But worry tightens my gut when I see the hint of defiance in his eyes. Almost like he’s daring me to call him out for lying.
Swallowing, I look back to Jeff. “What did he steal?”
“A six-pack of Kestrel Beer.”
Alcohol.
He’s stealing and drinking.
Jesus Christ.
“I am so sorry.” I lay my hands out in a pleading manner. “He’s never done anything like this before. He’s just…had a rough time of it as of late. Not that I’m making excuses for him because I’m not.” I glance at Jesse again. Keeping my eyes on Jesse, I speak to Jeff, “You said you wanted to deal with this in-house.” I look at Jeff. “What are you proposing?”
In my peripheral, I see Jesse sit up a little straighter.
“Well, the outside of the shop could do with a good clean. We lost our window cleaner a while back, and I haven’t gotten around to getting a new one. So, maybe Jesse could come tomorrow after school and clean the windows, and we’ll call it quits. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” I say before Jesse can say anything. Standing, I hang my bag on my shoulder. “I won’t be able to accompany him, as I’m at work until six. But I’ll give you my number in case you need it. If Jesse doesn’t turn up, then you have my permission to call the police and report the attempted theft.”
Jeff smiles at me and hands me a pad and pen. I scribble my number down and hand it back to him.
Then, I turn to Jesse. “Let’s go.” I give a jerk of my head, and then I turn for the door.
I hear him following behind me.
I don’t speak until we’re outside.
I stop abruptly and turn to him. “What the hell were you thinking?” I throw my hands up in the air.
That defiance, mixed with good old anger and resentment, flashes through his eyes. “Thought I’d join the family business.”
“This isn’t a joke, Jesse! You were lucky that he didn’t call the cops!”
He folds his arms and frowns down at me. “Maybe I wanted him to. I’ve heard that prison is cushy. Might be better than where I am now.”
My eyes widen, and fear bangs my heart against my chest. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I bite.
“No? Then, why don’t you tell me?” he challenges.
“Because you don’t need to know.” I lift my eyes to his, trying to convey my feelings. “No kid needs to know what the inside of a prison is like.”
His brows draw together in anger. “I’m not a kid,” he grinds out.
“Yes, you are!” I snap. “You’re my kid!” The words are out before I can stop them.
His eyes ignite with something that makes my stomach twist. “I’m not your kid!” he yells. “I don’t have parents!”
Something snaps inside me, and I don’t care that there are people around, listening. “Yes, you do! You have me!” I slam a hand to my chest. “On paper, I might be your sister, but I raised you, Jesse! Changed your nappies! Fed you! Clothed! Nursed you when you were sick! Read you bedtime stories! Went to all of your school plays! I raised you!”
“And then you fucking left me!” he roars.
The pain in his words is so apparent, and it takes me back a step, like a blade going through my chest. I can’t even pull him up for swearing. In the grand scheme of things, Jesse saying a curse word is nothing.
He’s hurting. Because of me.
“You…left,” he whispers.
And the ache of his words only intensifies, like the blade in my chest is being twisted.
“Jesse”—I step closer to him—“you have to know that I didn’t want to leave. I would have done anything to stay with you. Anything.”
His eyes flash to mine. “But you didn’t though, did you, Daisy? You stole from that place, knowing what the consequences would be. Or did you just not care? Or were you that arrogant that you thought you wouldn’t get caught?”
He still thinks I’m guilty. Even now. Even though I told him in person that I was innocent, he still doesn’t believe me.