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There were already so many similarities. Violet cried at everything and internalized every hurt she’d ever received, stacking them up inside like Jenga pieces. She was afraid that someday the pieces would become too high and tumble down. That eventually, all the hurts and unhappy memories would just be too much for her.

Like her mother—who at thirty-five had taken her own life, leaving her children alone with her drug-addict husband and no other family to speak of. It was why Violet never forgot that she had other people depending on her, why she kept busy.

Because she couldn’t be alone with her thoughts, memories, and fears. She didn’t think she could handle going through the stress and pain of having her own children, especially if there was a chance that she might not be strong enough to endure all the ups and downs. She had four more years, and then Casey would be going off to college and living his own life.

Then the only person she’d need to worry about was herself.

But sometimes, she thought about what her life would be like if her mother hadn’t killed herself. If she had finally left Violet’s dad and started over. If Violet had been free to have a normal childhood, to fall in love . . .

Only fantasy didn’t do anyone any good. Fantasy was just another word for disappointment.

Chapter Twelve

Two weeks later

DEAN HAD MANAGED to avoid Violet every time she’d visited Casey, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of her. Glancing at the clock, he knew there were just sixteen more hours until her arrival. The woman was like clockwork, coming the same time every day, sometimes with another young woman he assumed was her sister, but mostly alone.

Dean had gone through Casey’s file, and it was no wonder the kid was pissed off. His mom, Elaine, had committed suicide when he was still a toddler, and his father, Jack, had taken off on them three years ago. The only constant he seemed to have were his sisters.

It had been surprising to learn that Violet was his legal guardian, but with everything he knew about her, it made sense. She was essentially a single mom, keeping everyone at bay while trying to raise two kids when she was basically still a kid herself.

After reading the file, Dean had decided it was better to keep his distance from her. As much as he was drawn to her, she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she had a lot going on.

Except now, he was worried about Casey. The kid seemed to be adjusting to the program well. He followed directions and had settled in fine with his bunkmates, but if any of the instructors tried to draw him out of his shell, he closed himself off. He definitely had something against men, though considering what Dean had read about his dad, who could blame him? However, Dean suspected that Casey was dealing with something more. His mood swings and violent reactions to being touched were more than just teenaged angst.

Whatever had happened to the kid, Dean knew that it was bad. Casey probably needed to see a professional, but considering Dean’s aversion to shrinks, he wasn’t exactly the best advocate.

Which meant he would have to contact Violet and come up with a plan to help Casey. He could keep things professional. Treat her just like any other parent.

Except when you talk to any other parent, you can’t actually picture them naked.

A knock on his office door pulled him from his thoughts, and he barked, “Come in.”

Liam opened the door and stepped inside. “Sorry to bother you, sir.”

“No problem, Liam, I was just doing paperwork. I appreciate any excuse to avoid it, so have a seat.” Dean waved to the chair in front of his desk and sat back. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s about Casey,” Liam said, looking uncomfortable.

“What about him?”

Liam hesitated, and Dean sat forward. “Liam, if he’s done something, I need to know—”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong, sir, but . . . He has night terrors. Violent ones. In one of the foster homes I lived in, the kid I shared a room with had them, too. I think someone hurt him, Sergeant Sparks, or is still hurting him. I just . . . You’ve helped me a lot, and Casey’s a good kid, so I was hoping maybe . . . Maybe you could help him, too?”

After four months of working with teenagers, Dean had learned that it was hard for most of them to ask for help.

“Just to be clear, you think someone is hitting him?” Abuse would make sense, but who? Violet? Dean couldn’t picture it, not with the way she protected the kid.

Maybe one of her boyfriends?

He hated to admit that the thought of Violet tangled up with another man made him want to smash something.

“Or worse, sir. Some of the things he said . . . I get the feeling it might be worse than that.”

Dean’s blood ran cold at the horrors that flashed through his mind. Something worse.

Casey was small, easy to overpower . . .

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