Page 65 of Burden of Proof

“They’re all extravagant.”

I set the fish down on my dresser beside the empty bowl.

“And you’re not?” I laughed at him, taking the bowl to the kitchenette. Silas had cleaned the whole thing out for me after Cassandra died, and he’d tucked all the rocks and coral and decorations into individual zipper baggies.

Smith shifted his positioning on my bed so he could talk at me while I reassembled the fish home by my sink.

“I’m not.”

“You drive a Range Rover,” I reminded him.

Smith shrugged, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him.

“I didn’t grow up with money,” he said. “My mom didn’t take the deal, you know. It took me a long time to get used to the extravagance.”

“But you managed.”

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, and I dumped the rainbow rocks into the bottom of the fish bowl.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said.

“You got a college education out of it.”

“I got a lot out of it.” Smith’s mouth pulled into an adorable little frown that made him look a lot like a kicked puppy. He was going to be a handful for someone someday, that was for sure. He wasn’t quite a brat, but the way that man needed a fucking Daddy was a study for the textbooks.

“Worth it in the end?” I asked, shoving a plastic stalk of leaves into the rocks, then another.

“Sometimes I’m not sure.”

“I think it’s easy to be jaded on silver spoons when you’re surrounded by them.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, and I worried it might have been a little harsh. I filled the bowl with water and carried it back to the dresser, sitting down beside Smith on the bed before dealing with the fish transfer.

“You look like you need a hug,” I said, pulling him into my arms before he could argue with me.

Smith came easily, allowing me to pull his much taller and lankier frame halfway onto my lap without so much as a single protest. He weighed more than I remembered, and I grunted through rearranging our bodies on the bed so I could prop myself—and him—against the wall. He wrapped his arms around my waist, cheek pressed against my chest, and I sighed, kissing the top of his hair.

“What’s going on with you?” I asked. “I’ve been very focused on me and my fish, and I’m also used to Silas telling me everything without prompting. You seem like the type to need prompting.”

Smith’s shoulders jiggled with a laugh, and I held him tighter.

“I’m just questioningeverything.” He squeezed me, then unfolded himself from my arms and collapsed onto his back beside me.

“Everything could mean a lot of things.”

“When I was younger, I really wanted to be just like Marshall. I even went into design because of him. I drink wine because of him.”

I didn’t say a word.

“I love my brother. I love all of them, but they’re all so…” he trailed off, frowning himself into that puppy look again.

“Controlling,” I offered. The word I’d wanted to use was dominant, but…

“That’s a nice way to put it.”

“They love you,” I said. “I don’t know Marshall well, but it’s clear how much he cares about you and your feelings. He would do anything for you.”

“I know.”