Then we head up to my room and change before Finny and Elias race each other to our theater down the hall.
“I’ll be there in a second,” I shout after them, wanting to grab something from downstairs before joining them.
I turn the corner into the laundry room and collide with a girl.
“Oh, sorry!” a sweet voice calls out.
Chills of familiarity erupt across the tops of my forearms.
“You’re fine,” I murmur, taking her in for the first time.
She’s short and blonde. There is something about her … something recognizable … but I can’t put my finger on it.
She keeps her gaze on my bare chest, not like she’s admiring it, but like she’s scared to look anywhere else. I don’t know if I should be offended that she’s not ogling my physique—an impressive one at that—or glad that she’s not eye-fucking me in the middle of the laundry room.
“Do … do we know each other?” I ask, my gaze scouring every light freckle and inch of her face.
Her voice isn’t as angelic as before when she replies, still refusing to meet my eye, “I work here, Mr. Kensington. I’m sure that’s all.”
I gathered that from the scrubs she’s in and that she’s walking through my house in the middle of the day. But I feel like there’s more to it.
She turns her head to the side, glancing at the wall. The light illuminates her cheekbone and neck, and I spot red marks on her throat and irritation on her cheek.
My fists clench at the sight.
“Are you all right? Did someone do that?” I ask, anger flooding my system.
I don’t care if I don’t know this girl at all. I’m still going to punish whoever did that. She’s standing here, too scared to even meet my eye. I doubt it’s a fight she would’ve started to earn those marks.
Her gaze falls again. “Do what?” But she knows exactlywhatbecause she mindlessly lifts her hand to her neck and cheek. “No, sir. It was an … allergic reaction to a new moisturizer.” Her lips part, like she’s going to say something else but thinks better of it. “Excuse me.”
She pushes past me, and I let her, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable.
But I mutter one last thing before she’s too far gone. “My family is here to help if you need it, okay? You’re not alone. You can always come to me.”
She nods without looking back, scurrying away before disappearing around the corner toward the staff wing. A sick sensation settles into the pit of my stomach.
I don’t talk about it a lot, but I didn’t have a great foster care experience, facing the brutality of my foster father a time or two.
I will always stand up to abusers. I don’t give a shit who they are.
Mentally, I make a note to mention it to Dean. Maybe we can talk to Myra, the staff director, about keeping an eye on her andmaking sure the girl has all the resources she needs. And to give her my cell number so she can call anytime she may need help.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I check it, finding a text from my girl.
Princess: What are you up to?
About to watch a movie with a couple of friends at my house. You could join …
Princess: Not today. I’m sorry.
It’s okay, baby. Everything okay?
Princess: It’s just been a long day. I just had a rough interaction with my stepmother.
Can I help?
Princess: You already did.
