Torn (The Fosters of New York 3)

of an SVU stopped at the curb.

He can cook, I can sing. Apparently number one songs are no match for Michelin stars.

I look back to where Falon's approaching. Her left hand tucked into the front pocket of a pair of oversized jeans. The strap of the black bra she's wearing peeking out from under a light blue tank top. With the flat sandals she has on, she looks like she just came back from the beach, not Brooklyn.

She's as gorgeous as she was the first time I saw her. She's perfection. The only thing not perfect is the tall, curly haired, guy walking next to her with his arm draped around her shoulder.

CHAPTER 15

Falon

"What are you doing here?" I glance up at Elijah before I look at Asher again. "How do you know where I live?"

He slips off his sunglasses, his eyes trained on my face, avoiding Elijah altogether. "I heard you tell the Uber driver your address the other night. I wanted to talk."

"I'm busy tonight." I balance a small pink cardboard box in my hands, against my stomach. "You should have called."

"I tried calling twice." He exhales roughly. "That was before I realized you were in Brooklyn. You mentioned you were going there to see your folks."

"Seven, is that Asher Foster? Are we talking to Asher Foster right now?"

Hearing Elijah's excitement brings a smile to my lips. My younger brother loves music. Whenever I go to Brooklyn, I tuck a gift card in my pocket for his favorite music streaming site. I see the same passion in him for music that I had for photography when I was his age. If I can foster that, by introducing him to the actual Foster he can't shut up about, I'm going to gain a lot of big sister points in his book.

Initially, I had planned on asking Asher's manager if I could get one of the finished headshots signed and personalized for Eli. I hadn't even considered an in-person meeting between the two of them.

"Seven?" Asher pulls the ball cap from his head giving sight to his unruly hair.

I look at him not wanting to dive into a long winded accounting of why my younger brother calls me that. It's a nickname I both love and loathe. It's also part of the world I left behind across the river when I moved to Manhattan. Here, I'm Falon. That's who I want to be.

"This is my brother, Elijah. He's a big fan."

I could leave it right there if Elijah could grab hold of the conversation reins and ask a question about the music industry, but he can't. He's shy. He's so painfully shy that speaking directly to Asher isn't likely to happen.

My youngest brother has worked hard to come out of the protective cocoon he's buried himself in. It hasn't been easy but he's making steady progress. The fact that he agreed to come stay with me tonight so we can tour the city's museums tomorrow is proof of that. It's a very small step but it's in the right direction.

"I wish we had brought my guitar with us," Elijah says quietly. "I would have asked you to sign it if it wasn't too much trouble."

I turn to look up at him. He's a typical fifteen-year-old whose height has overtaken his weight. He's lankly and long. He hasn't grown into the stubble on his face or the fierceness of his full, dark brows yet. He's a boy trying to adjust to the world in the body of an almost man.

His hands are both clasped tightly to the backpack he hastily threw things into when I asked him to come spend tonight and tomorrow with me.

"I'll come out to Brooklyn and sign it for you," Asher offers. "If that doesn't work you can bring it to the recording studio one day. We can work on something together. Do you write or just play?"

Elijah rubs at his chin with the long fingers on his right hand. "You're not serious? This isn't happening."

I smile into my palm, using the motion to try to ward off all the tangled emotions I'm feeling. I can't remember the last time I saw Eli smile like this. High school hasn't been friendly to him. He's struggled to find his footing but now that summer break has started, I thought I could help him venture outside the walls of the house in Brooklyn to discover things to actually get excited about.

The museums were going to be a starting point. Apparently, I put too much thought into it. Everything my little brother needed to pull him from the freshmen year funk he's been in was sitting on my stoop in the form of Asher Foster.

***

"This is the best chocolate cake I've ever tasted." He licks his index finger before he drags it over the last crumbs in the cardboard box. "You didn't want any of it, did you?"

I watch as his tongue darts across his finger to scoop up the crumbs. I'd handed him the Dobb's Bakery box with the piece of cake to hold while I fumbled in my purse for my apartment keys. I took Eli up to my place, giving him an extra set of sheets, a pillow and a thin blanket before explaining how to set up the sofa bed. He was fast at work when I told him I had to go back down to talk to Asher.

I peer into the now empty box. That was going to be my Monday splurge. It's a concept I put into practice in college when I thought I weighed too much. I briefly judged my appearance by all the girls around me. Luckily, for me, I grew out of that fast. My love of all things containing sugar makes it very hard to stay on the no-sweet path for long.

I splurge whenever I feel like it now. I'm great at balancing what I want against what I need. Right now, I want to lick the chocolate crumbs that are sitting on Asher's bottom lip.