Free Steele Resolve (The Detective Jasmine Steele Series Book 1) by Kimberly Amato

glad,” I absent mindedly throw back. I don’t understand why it bothers me that he wants to call her his aunt. I had several aunts growing up who weren’t necessarily relatives, but they were still given to those who were loved by my mom or dad. I don’t want to be thinking about this right now, what it means or doesn’t mean.
    “She’s bad at video games,” he plops down next to me. I can feel his eyes on me, but I prefer to keep them on the page in front of me as if he might be able to see the torment in my eyes.
    “She played video games with you?”
    “Yeah, why?”
    “I couldn’t get her to play anything the entire time she lived here.”
    “Well, I could see that. She’s horrible,” he concedes with a sigh. Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t contain my laughter. Chase smiles at me and I see the sincerity in his eyes. “I tried to teach her,” he offers.
    “Some old dogs can’t be taught new tricks, Chase.”
    “She fell asleep during the main alien battles. How can anyone sleep through the spaceships landing and me fighting them off?” His excitement for his games shows in his animated hand gestures.
    “I have no idea, buddy. What time did you get to sleep?” I can hear my mother’s voice hidden in mine and it shakes me a bit. “After I helped Aunt Frankie into bed, I went to sleep,” he says as he fidgets. My mom used to say my brother did that when he was fibbing. She told me children are innocent so they tell fibs, adults lie because they know what they’re doing. I thought it was cute, but in essence a lie is a lie.
    Leaning back in the couch, I look over my young nephew whose eyes are everywhere but on me.
    “What time did you get to bed?” He looks at his hands, “I just told you.”
    Taking a deep breath before letting my mother’s voice come out of my mouth again, I ask,
    “The truth.”
    Chase stares down at his footie pajamas and the carpet; he knows I’ve caught him.
    “I waited for you to check on me. Aunt Frankie said you would be late, and I got worried.” His eyes finally meet mine and I see how small he feels. I can see his fear and it hits me hard.
    Wrapping my arm around him, I pull him in for a hug. “I’m sorry about that. I had to check some things out before coming home. It wasn’t too late though, right?” He leans into me and his little arms wrap around my mid-section. “Next time I’ll call even if it’s really late, okay?” His head bobs up and down against my torso.
    “You should have slept in your room,” he mumbles into my chest. I understand his concern for me being late, but this is not a subject I am prepared to talk to a seven year old about. “Chase, Frankie…”
    “Aunt Frankie,” he cuts me off. Leaning back he looks at me with an attempt at a stern face. I want to laugh at the cuteness of it all, but he’s being sincere so I drop it.
    “Aunt Frankie was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake her up,” just an innocent fib in protecting the child from the pain in the game of life. It’s a game I play very well and have only lost the battle once, but the war is far from over. In other words, when in doubt avoid the question altogether.
    “You still love her,” he folds his arms across his chest. My brother used to do that when he was serious. Even when he was in his late thirties, still was a trademark of his.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I know I should tell him the truth, but how can one admit something out loud when they don’t admit it to themselves?
    “Aunt Jazz, I love you very much, but you never see what’s right in front of you.” He sounds like a psychiatrist I know. “I’m supposed to listen to a young boy wearing long pajamas with attached feet?” I tickle him to make a point with my words. He slaps my hands away and the conversations playfulness is lost. “Funny, but I’m talking about how you lost Aunt Frankie because of me. That’s why you cry a lot at night.”
    His eyes well up a bit