"You want to fall in love?" Aaron asked incredulously. "You?"

Gray should have known his little brother wouldn't believe him. Aaron was always distrustful and quick to assume the worst. Yes, Gray wanted to fall in love; was that so hard to believe? He craved someone who understood and accepted him, the way Keeley accepted Aaron. It was frustrating that he couldn't buy happiness as usual.

If he wanted something real and genuine, he couldn't pursue it his usual way. Even so, he couldn't imagine a woman accepting him as he truly was. She'd flee at the first hint of his inner darkness.

He shrugged casually, but the hard look in his eyes betrayed his feelings. "They say there's someone for everyone," he said, "but I doubt that includes convicted murderers."

An oddly sympathetic look crossed Aaron's face. Did he actually feel sorry for Gray? How unusual. Gray couldn't remember the last time someone had cared enough to feel sorry for him—probably back in foster care.

After the first few foster families returned him, he stopped trying to connect. That only sped up the process. No one—parents or siblings—seemed to care or even try. At least, not until his last foster home, when he was seventeen.

There, he lived in a group home for difficult cases. Seven children lived there, each with different biological parents. Gray had been through too many foster homes to remember most names, but he remembered a little girl, probably five or six, also in foster care. She followed him around like a duckling. It was annoying.

One day, he snapped at her for interrupting his AP Computer Science homework. She blinked up at him with big blue eyes and said something unexpected: "Mikey, you're the nicest person here."

No one had called him Mikey since Uncle Louie died. That, combined with the absurdity of being called nice, made him reconsider.

He let her hang around while he did homework. Sometimes, he shared his rare candy or explained computers.

"Computers are the future," he'd say. "I want to make so much money I can do anything."

She'd crawl into his lap and ask, "Will you take me with you?"

He'd ruffle her hair and say nothing. He'd never let a child tag along forever. He planned to get into a good college, change his name, and never look back.

The day he got his MIT acceptance letter—and a full scholarship—he whooped with joy, lifting the girl and spinning her around. She giggled and asked why he was so happy.

He waved the letter. "This is my ticket out! Michael Gray is on his way up!"

The girl frowned. "Mikey, you'll come back, won't you?"

Gray looked at her as if she were insane. "I'm never coming back! You'll be fine; you're tough."

She burst into tears and ran off. He didn't understand then, but she kept her distance after that. He never thought of her again after graduating and moving to Boston. Until now.

Why did this memory surface? She'd be in her forties now, or possibly dead; many foster kids end up on the streets.

He hadn't noticed Aaron scrutinizing him. He'd probably made a weird face. Oops.

He recovered quickly and smiled. "No matter. I'm happy to be out in the world. It's been nice catching up. Do your sons play virtual reality games? I can't quite get the hang of them."

Aaron relaxed. "They do. Kaleb and Oliver like them best, but Nathan still does too. Violet prefers physical games, like cards."

Cards? That must be from spending time with Cameron Singleton's son—the seven-time World Series of Poker winner. They seemed to be dating.

Gray was curious but hesitant to ask. Aaron was touchy about his family. Was that normal, or was he unusually overprotective?

Gray kept the conversation focused on video games. As a former tech developer, he knew their history, even if he hadn't played much as a child. Technology had advanced incredibly.

Gray commented on this, and Aaron admitted he hadn't played video games until meeting Keeley. He only played when his children did. Even as a foster child, Gray had played games. Assuming Aaron lived a privileged life was wrong. He'd been Alistair Hale's puppet. Imagine a child forbidden from playing video games!

Aaron had enjoyed childish things with his children, which was better than nothing, but it was still a sad existence. At least Aaron had a happy ending. Gray probably wouldn't. He sighed, unaware of the eyes watching him.

(The final paragraph about the website was removed as it is promotional material.)