Page 7

I pulled into the driveway of my mother’s cozy home and killed the car engine, a soft sigh escaping my lips. My fingers rubbed my eyeballs, and I reclined into the driver’s seat for a minute.

My eyes lifted toward the rearview mirror, and I adjusted the frame, catching my reflection. I needed to be sure that I didn’t look stressed out so Mom wouldn’t have something to worry about.

The case with Mr. Tarasov bothered and spooked me on many levels, but I couldn’t share it with anyone. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Mom, on the other hand, was nosy at times and could be persuasive when she wanted to be, especially if she sensed that something was off with me.

She was like a living, breathing stress detector, and the last thing I wanted was to have her concerned over nothing.

My mom, Diana Evelyn, had been in and out of jobs—all sorts of jobs—in order to feed me and my younger brother, Ethan. The woman was a hard-working single mother who was ready to go the extra mile to make sure that her children had a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

Mom was the reason I worked so hard. She’d done everything in her power to see me through college and allow me to chase my dreams. I’d be an ungrateful child if I messed up and threw away her sacrifice. Mom never got to live her dream life; she never got the opportunity to chase her own goals and objectives. However, she made sure that I chased mine and reached the heights that she never could.

This woman inspired me in more ways than she could possibly imagine, and I would forever be grateful to her.

Every now and then, I would stop by the house and spend quality time with her and my brother. They were the only family that I had in the world anyway.

A broad smile spread across my face as I opened the door and stepped out of the car. My eyes glanced at the simple cookie-cutter building—at its brick-faced exterior and low-pitched roof, a familiar sight in this suburban neighborhood.

I hadn’t taken a step further when I heard my phone ring, its constant buzzing forcing me to dig my hand in my pocket. I withdrew the device and answered. “Hey, Ronnie, how’s it going?”

“Clary, I think I’ve made a mistake,” his voice, laced with urgency, boomed through my phone’s speakers.

The next words that flew out of his mouth sounded like gibberish to me because they tumbled out in a nervous rush. I could barely make out a thing he was saying.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down there, mister,” I cut him off, grasping the car’s backdoor handle and yanking it open. “Let’s try this again—a little calmer this time.” My tone was gentle and smooth, but my curiosity was piqued. “What’s going on?” I leaned forward and grabbed a few bags from the backseat.

Earlier, I’d stopped by the bakery to pick up a couple of my family’s favorite treats: fresh-baked cookies for Ethan and a lemon pound cake for Mom. I also picked up a few loaves of crusty bread for dinner.

I grabbed the bags, and that was when Ronnie repeated himself. He said, “Emily and I kissed!”

I paused for a moment, my brows arching as I tried to process his words. It sounded a lot more like an exclamation than a statement, and it was obvious that he was freaking out.

“Well, it’s about time.” I chuckled, stepping away from the car. With a deft kick, I shut the back door, the sound echoing through the cool and quiet afternoon air.

“That’s all you have to say? ‘It’s about time.’ Really?”

“What do you want me to say, Ronnie?” I laughed lightly, turning to make my way to the house with the bags balanced precariously in my hands.

“I don’t know—that it was a bad idea?” he replied, anxiety palpable in his tone.

The phone tucked between my shoulder and ear was held in place by the gentle pressure of my bent neck. My flats were almost soundless against the pavement as I walked toward the entrance.

“Well, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that, Ronnie,” I said, wiggling my brows and beaming a smile at a neighbor who’d waved at me from their patio.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“ Because .” I let out a slight groan, frustrated by his level of ignorance. “Are you really that clueless? Emily’s been in love with you for, like, forever, Ronnie!” I blurted out.

“Oh, my God. This is bad. This is terrible!” he grumbled on the other line.

“You know what’s terrible?” I began, lashing out at him but with a mild and gentle tone. “The fact that you’ve ignored what’s been right in front of you this entire time. Ronnie, I’ve watched you waste your love and affection on someone who never even valued you as a person,” I said, referring to his ex-girlfriend, Bonnie, or whatever her name was.

“I’m confused right now, Clary. What should I do? I don’t really know how I feel about Emily,” he said.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Ronnie. The ball is in your court now,” I replied, halting in front of the entrance. “Whatever you choose to do with it is entirely up to you.”

“This wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping to get,” he said, clearly disappointed.

I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ronnie. I’m just not in the right frame of mind at the moment.”

“You alright?” he asked, concerned.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” came my reply. “Speaking of handling, my hands are full right now. Literally. Can we pick this up later?”

“Uhh, yeah—of course, sure,” he answered, the skepticism in his voice hinting at the fact that he wasn’t done with me yet. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

He ended the call.

I let out a light groan.

Setting the bags at the base of the door, I reached out and rang the bell.

A few moments later, Ethan answered the door, his eyes shining as he took his headphones off. “Hey, sis.” He extended his hand.

“Hey, buddy.” My lips curled into a smile, knowing what was coming. I reached out, and we shared a special handshake, one we’d perfected over the years. It started with a simple high-five followed by a quick fist bump and then finished with a gentle thumb-to-thumb touch.

Ethan would turn 18 in a few months, and although he was already taller than me, he still knew his place. We’d had our fair share of siblings fight over the years, but as we matured, we gradually dropped that habit. Ethan used to fight me all the time, and I would always fight back until I realized that he was the only brother that I had.

Mom would occasionally remind us that we were all we had in this world. She would always whisper to us that someday, she would leave this earth, and all we’d have was each other.

It took a while, but Ethan and I soon worked out our differences—the usual brother-sister banter that used to drive us both crazy. We used to fight over the most ridiculous things: who got to control the TV remote, whose turn it was to do the dishes, and who was the ultimate champion of Mario Kart—me, of course.

However, for the past few years, since I left for college, we’d hardly experienced a serious fight. This little handshake of ours symbolized our union and the connection we shared.

Ethan reached for the bags, and his brows furrowed slightly. “Whatcha got in there?” With the loaded bags in his hands, he headed back inside.

“Nothing much, just some stuff from the store.” I followed up behind him.

As I stepped into the living room, the soft golden lights of the table lamps enveloped me, casting a warm glow over the cozy space. The room was a comfortable mess of plush sofas, colorful throw pillows, and the familiar aroma of Mom’s grilled chicken wafting from the kitchen.

“Please tell me you got Mom’s lemon pound cake,” he said, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. “All week, she wouldn’t shut up about it.”

I chuckled, pointing at the bags he set on the coffee table. “Well, luckily, it’s all in there.”

“Mom, Clary’s here!” he called out.

“Did she bring my lemon pound cake?” Her voice came from the kitchen, more concerned about her treat than she was about me.

As hilarious as that was, it was classic Diana Evelyn, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yep. She’s all yours.” Ethan sank into the sofa with an exasperated sigh, his light blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

I strolled over to the kitchen, inhaling the tantalizing aroma of caramelized onions and roasted veggies that teased my senses. There, I spotted Mom from the entrance. The air was filled with the sound of sizzling meat and the clang of pots and pans as the sunlight filtered through the window.

Mom had her back to me, a large serving dish cradled in her arms. She was plus-sized, with long, dirty-blonde hair and amazing hazel-brown eyes. She was a beautiful woman, charming and free-spirited, the source of my jovial nature.

She turned around and faced me, her lips curling into a radiant grin. “Clary, darling! You’re just in time,” she said, her voice laced with excitement. “Pass me that knife, would you?” She pointed at it on the countertop.

“Mom, I literally just got here,” I teased, hinting that it was still early to send me on errands.

The sound of my brother’s mocking laugh came from behind me.

“What did you think I meant when I said she was all yours?” Ethan strode in, chuckling with a wide grin. He picked up an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen table and leaned against the refrigerator.

“Your brother has grown wings, Clary. He doesn’t help out with the chores anymore,” Mom grumbled, accepting the knife I handed her.

“Ethan?” I cast a questioning and judgmental glare in his direction.

He shrugged his shoulders, took a bite from his apple, and replied with his mouth full. “Come on, you know Mom exaggerates things sometimes.”

“Excuse me, I exaggerate things?” Mom pulled her head back, her disbelieving eyes pinned on him. She shot a glance in my direction and added, “Ask him what he does all day. He’s either playing video games, or he’s FaceTiming that Janice girl.”

Ethan’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “What's wrong with Janice? I thought you said you liked Janice,” he stated, spreading out his arms theatrically.

“I do like Janice, but you’re spending way too much time with her,” Mom replied, her gaze never leaving his face.

His fingers combed through his hair, a light chuckle escaping his lips. “That’s because we’re in a relationship, Mom. Unlike some people.” The last statement was spoken when he stole a glance at me.

At first, I didn’t get the humor until I caught that mischievous grin twitching at the corners of his lips.

I planted my hands on my hips, casting a playful glare at my brother. “What’s that supposed to mean? How’d I get dragged into this?” I laughed, shaking my head in amusement.

“Pay no attention to your brother,” Mom said, her smile broadening. “I know the right man is out there for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that,” Ethan muttered, his voice dripping with mild sarcasm.

“One more word from you, and I swear to God I’m gonna….” Mom grabbed the kitchen spatula in her hand and chased him around the kitchen island.

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock defense.

I lowered my head, pinching the bridge of my nose, but inside, my heart filled with gladness. It was always fun watching those two behave like children. Their banter never failed to leave me smiling, and I couldn’t have wished for a better family.

We might not have the world, but at least we had each other. And for me, that was more than enough.

However, amidst my bliss and fun, images of my client’s cold and calculating demeanor crept into my head.

At that moment, a pang of fear swelled within me, stopping my heart for a second.

His name rang eerily at the back of my mind like a soft, scary whisper: Raziel Tarasov.

***

Later that evening, I sat on my childhood bed, flipping through the pages of my notepad. Under the lamp’s warm glow, I reviewed all I’d written down about him—Raziel. Somehow, the sound of his name in my head gave me the creeps.

I had barely scratched the surface, and I could already tell that he was going to be a tough nut to crack. The man had no known weaknesses—at least not yet, anyway. Raziel wasn’t remorseful; he didn’t seem too concerned about his anger management issues. Judging by what I saw during our last session, the man wasn’t willing to get help.

He was proud and arrogant, not to mention condescending. But more than that, there was something in him—something dark and evil that I couldn’t quite place. At the mere thought of this, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, and my skin was covered with goosebumps.

If I was going to make it through these sessions unscathed and in one piece—emotionally and mentally—then I needed to be more careful. He was a wild one, an untamed beast with the tendency to go on a rampage when triggered. This was my client? Why did Dr. Kim Kurt believe that I could handle such a person?

Raziel had a temper, hot like hellfire, and he was clearly unpredictable and unstable. There was no telling what he could do at any given point in time, and that made him very dangerous.

The knock on my door startled me, and out of fear, I almost jumped out of my own skin.

Her muffled voice came from outside: “Clary, honey, it’s Mom.”

I let out a soft exhale, smiling faintly at the ridiculousness of my fear. “Come on in.”

The door creaked and opened, revealing her at the entrance. Mom’s gaze lingered on me, and her eyes squinted ever so slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m alright.” I rubbed my eyeballs and put on a plastic grin.

“Work trouble?” She leaned against the door frame.

I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Something like that.”

Noting my skepticism, her lips curled into a sly smile. “Don’t worry; I’m not gonna pry this time. Doctor-patient confidentiality, I get it.” She strolled into the room, her smile unwavering. “I don't know what challenges you’re facing, honey, but I do know this.” She sat on the edge of my bed, her gaze pinned on me. “You’re smart enough to solve it.” She extended her hand, touching my cheek. “And I am so proud of you.”

My heart melted at her words, a wave of emotion washing over me. “Thanks, Mom. It means the world to me,” I murmured.

Mom gazed into my misty eyes for a moment, pride sparkling in the depths of hers. “Alright,” she broke the silence shortly after I responded. “Dinner’s ready.” She stood up, beaming at me.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I said, mirroring her smile.

As Mom headed out and shut the door behind her, I drew a heavy breath and scratched the back of my head. This case wasn’t going to be a piece of cake, and I could only hope that Mom was right about me being smart enough to solve it.

I took one last glance at my notes before closing them and heading down for dinner.