He was her brother, so he should be strong for her: he was older, had been in this life longer, had been nearer Fox’s darker business deals from the off. But Florence, he was finding, was more naturally like Simeon than he could ever be. He didn’t know how he had never noticed that before.

“Do you ever—” Jay said quietly, and then stopped, thinking better of it. Do you ever wish you could get out of this life? It had been on his mind more often than usual – and his answer was yes, even though the reality was no, he had done too many illegal things to get out intact without fleeing the country for good – but if Florence had been all but raised in this, and was calm and controlled even now, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she liked what they did. He would have helped her get out and leave them behind, if he could, but maybe he was a fool for even thinking it. And she said he didn’t have to be strong, but he didn’t know what she would think of him if she understood just how weak and cowardly he was.

He didn’t know how best to protect her anymore.

Jay covered his eyes with his hands again, letting her tidy up whilst he fought the tears welling up for no good reason. “I know,” he said finally, dragging his hands down when he felt mostly stable again, calm, if not quite recovered; he looked up at her to prove that he was grateful for her. “I’m just – not like Fox was,” he admitted. “I’m not as good at this.”

She could probably see that well enough for herself, but this was already more open than Jay was used to being.

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