Ryan followed me back into the living room and sat beside me on the couch. I placed my elbows on my thighs and let my head drop into my hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Ryan.”
“I think you’re doing just fine, Mr. Wesley.”
“Call me Martin, please,” I said.
“Okay. So, Martin…can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” I leaned back against the cushions and realized I was still wearing my suit, and there was a stain of some kind on my white shirt. Wonderful.
“What’s the deal with Samantha?”
My breathing hitched before I replied. “Her mother—my sister, Louise—died, and I’m the only next of kin.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied.
“Thanks. I don’t know what else was going on in her life, because we hadn’t spoken since I left home at eighteen. Our father…” I rubbed my fingers over the scars on my face.
