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I felt her eyes on me as I left the room, and I glanced over my shoulder a final time before disappearing down the hall. She was sprawled out on my bed like she owned it. The sight of her like that, so comfortable and content, made my chest tighten.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this…good. This happy. I didn’t think I ever had, at least not since I’d moved to Groveton. Maybe there were fleeting moments before Winnie, but nothing compared to what she made me feel.
Humming to myself, I hurried through making our breakfast. Nothing fancy, just some eggs, toast, and coffee. I could get used to this, making breakfast every morning and fucking her every night. It felt right, having her here. Like she was home—my home, and I was hers.
I piled everything on the plates and made my way back into the room. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled brightly up at me. She shoved herself up on shaky arms, and I put the plate in her lap. I watched her take everything in as I left the room to grab her painkillers and water, and when I returned, she was staring at me, that lightness she’d just had gone.
“What is it?” I murmured, and she shook her head.
“No one’s ever…” She trailed off, looking back at the plate of eggs. “No one’s ever made me breakfast before. Actually, other than my mom, I don’t think anyone’s ever cooked for me.” I tried not to let my shock show on my face as I set the pills and bottle of water on the nightstand beside her.
Grabbing my plate, I sat on the other end of the bed, facing her. She was hesitant to take a bite at first, but once she did, she devoured it. Smiling to myself, we ate in companionable silence for a few moments.
“How did she die?” I asked quietly, keeping my voice gentle. The metal fork scraped along the plate as her head snapped up.
“What?”
“Your mom.” I wiped my mouth on the napkin as I stared calmly back at her. “A few weeks ago, you said it was the anniversary of your parents’ deaths. What happened?”
Her eyes flitted around the room as she slid the plate onto the spot beside her. “They were in a car accident,” she muttered, her voice thick. “The cops said they died on impact. They didn’t even feel it.”
I set my plate on the floor and moved closer to her, resting my hands on her bent knees. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and she smiled tightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “How old were you?”
“Thirteen. Almost fourteen.”
“You were still a baby.” I stroked her cheek with my thumb, wiping away a tear. “Who did you live with after that?” Her swallow was audible, and she licked her dry lips.
“My brother was nineteen, so he became my legal guardian. He’d moved to Austin but had to come back because a therapist told him it would be better for me. I think he’s always resented me for taking away his life.”
“You didn’t take his life away,” I said firmly. “It wasn’t your fault they died.”
“I was at a sleepover,” she croaked, her eyes on the blanket. “I had a really hard time with the girls in my class, but one of their moms forced them to invite me to their birthday party. So, my mom convinced me to go and try to make friends. A few hours into it, I was curled up in the corner, wanting to go home. They were just being so awful to me, and—it doesn’t matter. If I hadn’t called my dad to come get me, my parents wouldn’t have been on the road. They wouldn’t have gotten into that accident, and they would still be alive.”
A broken sob shoved its way up her throat, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her, pressing my lips against the top of her head. “It’s not your fault, Winona,” I said again. “It was a freak accident. But it was not your fault.”
“That’s what everyone says, but—” She cut herself off, sniffling hard as she nestled into my chest. “It was a long time ago, and I’ve learned to get past it. But it still hurts every year, and Connor, my brother…” She trailed off, and I tightened my hold on her. “He blames me for it all. We couldn’t afford our house anymore, so we moved out to that little trailer. He couldn’t go party with his friends because he had to take care of me. His girlfriend left him, and he hasn’t been able to hold down a steady relationship since.”
“That’s on him,” I said softly. “If he can’t find a girlfriend or afford a better place, it’s on him. You’re the kid?—”
“He was too,” she said defensively, pulling away from me. “I’m almost the age he was when they died, and I can’t imagine dropping everything to take care of a kid right now.”
“It was his responsibility to step up and take care of you. He could’ve chosen to put you in foster care or send you to another relative. He could’ve chosen to move you to Austin and find a better job. He had choices, Winnie. He chose this life. For you both.”
Her brows crashed together, her lips in a tight line. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m just saying?—”
“You don’t even know him,” she snapped. “He was a kid, too. And he did the best he could. It wasn’t like he’d signed up for that.”
“I know,” I said softly. “He lost his parents, too. But?—”
“No buts,” she snarled, shoving me away. “He gave up everything for me. Everything, Emmett. The least I can do is finish school and get a good job and repay him for everything.”
“You don’t owe him?—”
“Where are my clothes?” she interrupted as she got to her feet, swaying slightly.
“Just sit back down?—”
