him thin enough to break. While his parents had been in charge, their lives seemed secure and balanced. Now everything, from the struggling tavern, to his mother’s erratic health and now Connor’s possible expulsion from high school, fell short of his father’s standards. Especially Aiden. And according to Ms. Day, he’d also failed Connor.
Perhaps he should accept the financial help his siblings offered and not let his pride stop him from taking handouts. But he was also concerned that if he piled on obligations, they might struggle. He felt great satisfaction in seeing them achieve their dreams and didn’t want anything to get in their way. He just had to do better. Connor, too.
He glanced across the aisle to the bright-haired woman chatting amiably to a man who leaned far too close to her, in Aiden’s estimation. The guy’s loud laugh at each of Ms. Day’s comments grated. Was he here to help kids or hit on women? Their jovial antics set off a slow, steady burn in Aiden’s gut. This “intervention” was nothing but a vacation for the kids and the adults...all but him.
He’d have to work even harder, remotely, to ensure things ran smoothly at home, while keeping an eye on his wayward brother and ensuring he was prepared for the superintendent at the final showcase. Was it too much to ask that Ms. Day keep his brother in check? Aiden stared at her laughing profile and tensed. Nope. She looked ready for fun. Not structure. Connor needed guidance and discipline. If he acted out, got expelled, he might lose the opportunities Aiden wanted for him. The bright future the kid deserved.
Speaking of whom...
“Connor,” he said into his brother’s ear.
The boy jerked away, banged his temple on the metal separating the bus windows, and glared at Aiden. Or seemed to. With his bangs obscuring the upper half of his face, it was hard to tell.
“What the fu—?” he growled, his attempt to sound tough ruined as his voice cracked, vacillating between its upper and lower registers.
“Language,” Aiden said, glancing swiftly at the back of Ms. Day’s head.
“Oh. Right.” Connor shoved back his hair and rolled his eyes. “Like you don’t swear.”
Aiden snatched his brother’s hand-me-down cell phone, a gift from Mary Ann, and unplugged the earbuds. “Enough.”
“Whatever,” he muttered. “Now give me back my cell.”
“No. You’re going to listen to me first.”
“Yeah, like you listen to me.” Connor’s lower lip pushed out and red blotches appeared on his pale face.
Aiden’s hands balled on his lap. Behind them a couple kids started chanting “A hundred bottles of beer on the wall” and Ms. Day rose and scooted down the aisle.
“You’re not going to screw this up,” Aiden stated. “Got it? When the superintendent comes, I want you to—”
“Screw what up? It’s my life. I’ll do what I want.” Connor plugged the wire back into the phone.
Anger boiled up Aiden’s throat and singed his tongue. He grabbed the phone and pocketed it, making Connor jump. “It’s not your life until you’re eighteen. Until then, you follow my rules or get the consequences.”
“As in grounded?” Connor’s narrow mouth trembled at the corners. “You’ll make me stay home after school every day to watch Mom, Daniel and Ella? Oh. Wait.” He tapped his chin, his tone biting. “I already do that.”
“Things can get worse,” Aiden threatened. “I’ll take away your Xbox.”
“Have it. I barely get to play it as it is.”
“And your TV.”
“Same thing.”
“Connor—”
The scent of something floral and exotic enveloped him as Ms. Day stopped at their seat. Leaned close.
“Is everything all right here?” she asked, her voice so low Aiden strained to hear it over the bus chatter.
Concerned blue eyes fell on Connor, who ceased grabbing for the cell and subsided in the seat’s corner.
“Fine,” muttered Aiden. The hairs on his forearms rose when her hand gripped his shoulder as the bus bounced. She swayed on her feet and he nearly gave in to the impulse to grab her waist and steady her. No denying it, she attracted him like no other woman he’d ever met.
“Connor?” she prompted, as if she hadn’t heard Aiden’s assurance.
“I want my phone.” Connor brought his foot up to the seat and rested his head on his knee.
She squatted so that she was at eye level with the boy and Aiden’s chest. He shifted, uncomfortably aware of her proximity and his response to it. “And why did you lose it?”
Connor shrugged and turned his face away, speaking to the window. “Ask him.”
Ms. Day peered up at Aiden, the sudden, intense focus of her stare doing something strange to his heart. “What happened?”
“I wanted him to listen to me, so I took it away.”
She blinked long blond lashes. “Did you ask him for it?”
This was ridiculous. Was she trying to counsel him on the bus? The retreat hadn’t even started.
“No. I didn’t ask him.”
“Why not?”
Connor looked up and glanced between the two of them.
“Because he wouldn’t have given it to me.”
“How do you know?”
“Look. How long have you known my brother? A month or so? I’ve known him for fourteen years. Raised him for ten of them. I think I know him better than you.” Aiden shoved the cell phone back at Connor who, contrarily, glanced at it, then refused to take it. What was the kid trying to prove? That Aiden wasn’t guardian of the year? He didn’t have time to worry about that.
So why, under Ms. Day’s observant stare, did it seem to matter?
“Connor, would you have stopped listening to your music if Aiden asked you?” she inquired in that oh-so-reasonable tone that put Aiden on the defensive.
“Probably not.”
Aiden shot him a surprised look. At last. Honesty. Then again, he’d never known his brother to be a liar.
Ms. Day nodded slowly. “We’ll schedule some family counseling sessions and focus on communication, then.”
A short laugh escaped Aiden. “You think that’s all we need? To talk more?”
She rose and gripped the back of the seat, her pretty face looking less assured. “I think it’s a starting point.”
Her graceful back bent as she slid past her eager seatmate and resumed their animated conversation. Connor
