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I shake my head. “Forget it.”
“Wait.”
I stop.
“Winifred… is mom’s cousin.” Joel’s feeble voice rattles through his oxygen mask. “They were more like friends than family. Mom said he helped her out when my dad left.”
I return to the chair by his hospital bed. “Was he the one who called you the night of the gala?”
Joel eyes me suspiciously.
I scoot to the edge of my seat. “Joel, you asked me why Clarissa left. Here’s the truth. She was being threatened by my enemies. I was desperate, so I did something I knew she wouldn’t like, fully expecting her to leave me.”
His lips mash together.
“But the one who drove me to that place of desperation was Winifred. He hates me and he’s willing to do anything to get back at me, even hurt the people I love.”
“Oh come on, Uncle Win wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“He hurtyou, didn’t he?” I growl.
Joel goes still.
“Vargas said you’d been put into the system. That means your uncle didn’t take you in. When was the last time you heard from him before that night? Has he even called you since then? Sent a dime to help you?”
“I’m not mad at you. It’s his fault. He knew what he was doing by goading you. By involving you in this fight. If he’d left you out of it, you wouldn’t be here holding on for dear life.”
The kid picks at a thread in his hospital sheet. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to paint yourself as the hero, but you’re not. You don’t care about me. Even if Uncle Win isn’t involved in my life, he’s family.”
“I’myour family too.” Roughly, I add, “Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t care about you at all?”
“Uncle Win was right. You’re good at this. At manipulating people.” He shakes his head. “Aren’t you here to get something from me? Don’t bother talking about me being family because I won’t fall for it.”
I rub the back of my neck. This kid.
He still doesn’t believe me.
“Every day at twelve o’clock, you used to go hunting down a bag of chips and hide out in the bathroom to eat it so I wouldn’t scold you.”
His eyes widen. “You knew about that?”
“Yeah, I knew about that.” I huff. “Your wheels make this creaking noise when you’re trying to be quiet.”
“I thought I put enough grease,” he mumbles.
“I miss… that sound. The house feels empty without you there.”
“You’re saying you miss me.” Joel’s lips curl up mischievously.
“I wouldn’t use those words.”
“What words would you use?”
My eyes roll to the ceiling. “I’ve… gotten used to having you around.”
“That means you miss me, Fake Dad.”
I cough. “Let’s focus, shall we?”