“Told you that kid was a prick,” she mutters.
“You’re completely right. He’s one-hundred percent prick.” I rest my cheek on her head, content to just hold her. I mean, I want in her pants, worse now than ever, but having the right to hold her like this when before I could only dream about it, feels pretty fucking amazing.
She sighs, relaxing into me further. She wraps her long arms around my waist. “I get that you’re protective, Colt. I actually really love that about you. But I’m not a martyr. I would tell you if I wasn’t ok. And if I was really hurt, I’d make sure it’s taken care of.”
She tilts her head back, bringing her face close to mine. Her eyes are understanding and a little too knowing. “I’m a single mom, Colton. I am very aware that if something happens to me, I’d be leaving Mia alone. I won’t do that. I’ll be careful.”
I clamp my mouth shut to stop the flood of words that I’m desperate to let out. The promises that I won’t let anything happen to her. The assurances that I’d never let Mia be alone. And the fucking marriage proposal, so I can make them mine officially. No, I won’t let those words out, not yet. But they’re heavy, demanding, battering at me. Determined to break free.
“I’m going to have a really hard time with that Evie.”
Her nose crinkles. “Which part?”
“Um…all of it. But especially the part where you get hurt.” A fire lights in her eyes and I rush to explain myself. “If you’re hurt, I need to see it. I…shit, you’re going to have to give me this one, Evie. I have a history that makes it hard for me to handle women being hurt.”
Her face softens. “Was your mom abused? Did your father…?”
I tuck a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear. “No, nothing like that. My mom was always…fragile. She wasn’t very big. I think I was taller than her by the time I was eight. But it was more than that. She got every cold, every flu. I don’t really remember her as anything but worn down. Part of it was being a single parent, I’m sure. My brother and I were a lot to handle. And she was raising us alone, in a rough neighborhood. She struggled to put food on the table, and I know for sure she was going without so we would be fed.”
Evie makes a low sound of understanding. “That’s why my pictures bothered you so much?”
“Mostly, yeah. There was so much life in your eyes, and then it was dimmed. I didn’t like it, and I really didn’t want things to turn out for you like they did for my mom.”
Her hand starts a gentle stroke up and down my back. It’s soothing and at the same time, it makes all my nerve endings hum.
“What happened to your mom?”
My chest feels heavy. “She faded away. She ended up in the hospital for pneumonia, I think. She got a little better. Enough to check herself out, at least. She came home and told us everything was fine. But we knew better. My brother and I gave her more of our food. We took turns staying with her, and we thought it was helping. But one morning, she didn’t wake up.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my throat. How fucked up am I that I want to tell her more sad shit, just so she’ll kiss me again? “What happened then?”
I don’t share my silent vigil next to her bed or my brother’s meltdown. I don’t tell her about the fight or my broken arm.
“My brother and I handled her death very differently. They put us in foster homes together at first, but we would get into it so bad, they separated us. Both of us split, figuring the street is better than playing house with some other family. He was angry and ended up running wild. I did too, for a while, until I got sent to the home.”
“Why were things so bad between you?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question? “I wish I fucking knew. We were always on the same team, you know? We had each other’s backs. But when mom died, Johnny had all this rage in him, and it seemed to get directed straight at me. We couldn’t be anywhere near each other without ending up in a fight.”
“He’s older than you?”
“Yeah, three years.”
“That must have been so strange, to have the brother you’d looked up to suddenly turn on you.”
I hum in agreement. Strange is not the word I would use for it. Shattering, heartbreaking, life-altering all seem like better descriptions. “Yeah, it was.”
She pulls back and bites her lip, a question clear in her eyes. “You mentioned he was in prison.”
I try not to. I try to control it, but I tense up despite myself. I really don’t want to talk about this.
“Yeah…You hungry yet? Want to go stuff ourselves with crappy food?” I turn, gently tugging her towards the main building. She resists, pulling me back towards her. I let her pull me into her because I’ll never not go to her, but I’m fucking dreading this conversation already.
Her smile is soft, understanding. “Colt, why is your brother in prison? What did he do?”
We’re doing this. Here, with the sounds of karts in the background, surrounded by kids. “He was running with a gang. Not like us. We called ourselves a gang, but we were never into drugs or anything truly heavy. Johnny though? He was into heavy shit. But that’s not what got him locked up.”
“What did?”
