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“My mom.” She smiled sadly. “My mother used to tell me stories of him all the time, about how they met and what a good man she was. About how he was this hero who had served his country and how he had been a good father even after he came back. Even after she left him, I think she was still in love with him.”
“Then why did she leave?”
Kayla shrugged. “I’m not sure. She used to tell me he was a good father and husband, and I would ask her why, if he was such a good father, we were no longer with him. Then she would always get real quiet and sad and say that the circumstances kept them apart, and it wasn’t good to stay with him. Once, she told me that the Marines broke something in him, and he needed to heal it before she could take him back. I assumed it was something to do with his PTSD. Maybe he had almost hurt her or me or something, but the weird thing was that she still encouraged me to find him when she passed. She even put it in her will. She said she regretted leaving him and that I should go find him when the time was right.”
Sympathy filled me. I knew what it was like to have lost a parent at a young age. I lost both of mine right before college and then had to join the Marine Corps to provide for my younger brothers, who I barely spoke to now.
I didn’t blame them. We hadn’t had much to talk about when I got out, and they were such different people now, with their own families and lives. We still tried to check in every once in a while, but the conversations were always awkward, and even though one of them had invited me to his place for Christmas, I could sense the relief in his voice when I declined.
Being without family was one of the more isolating experiences in life, so I understood why Kayla chose to draw closer to her father.
“Is that why you went looking for him?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “It wasn’t hard. He still lived at the same address and went by the same name. My mother had kept the address and phone number. So I called him, and we arranged a meeting.”
She stopped her tale and stared off into space for a few seconds, enough for me to ask, “And then what happened?”
Her face turned tight, almost angry. “He was not the man I was expecting. He was very charming and outgoing, while my mother had described a quiet, sober man. He was very animated and kind, but…but his personality now felt like a front, like he was putting on a show for me. And then I figured out why.” She swallowed. “From the moment I arrived, I felt something wrong with the place. It was this giant compound, and there was security everywhere. While he made sure to tell me to make it my home, there were certain areas I wasn’t allowed access to. And then, one night, I saw his men beating up a man bloody. I was terrified, and I immediately ran from the scene to go to my father, only to overhear him talking about ordering a hit on somebody. I didn’t need it spelled out for me after that. I packed up my shit and booked it out of there.
“You didn’t ask him to explain? It could have been a misunderstanding.”
She gave me a sardonic look. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what ordering a hit means, and I know what would have happened if he knew what I saw or heard. What did you want me to do? Give him a warning? No. I ran away and thought they would leave me alone, forget about me. But no, a few of his men found me and tried to take me back forcefully, so I escaped again.”
“How?”
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “I think I’ll keep that one to myself.”
I knew why. She didn't want to give away any of her tricks in case I turned out to be a villain like her father.Smart girl.But my gut was telling me that there was something more to the story. While her father’s case was suspicious, her quick thinking showed that she often made gut conclusions on hastily thrown-together evidence, and she was very stubborn to change them. Especially when those conclusions involved men.
“Alright, what else?” I asked.
She blinked. “What do you mean what else? I just told you the entire story.”
“No. Your reaction was too quick, too gut-deep. Someone else hurt you or, at the very least, disappointed you. Tell me about that.”
She tried to feign ignorance at first, but her expression gave it away. She shook her head.
“Come on. Who was it?” I pressed. “A guardian? A crush? An ex?”
Her lips tightened slightly at the last word. Bingo. “Now, I really don’t want to talk about that.”
“You sure about that? My feelings were very hurt.”
“I think my apology has sufficed.”
“I don’t think it has quite yet.”
Stubbornness lined her face, and she seemed to struggle against her temper. I noticed she often did that when she felt backed into a corner, so I pulled back.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Easy now. Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard. I’ll let it go. For now.”
She gave me a small smile in appreciation and said, “I’ll try to also give you a chance. And have my guard down a little more.”
“That would be mighty appreciated.” I held out my hand for a handshake, ignoring the frisson of awareness that rushed up when our palms connected. “Truce?” I asked.
“Truce,” she said, smiling.
* * *
The truce lasted exactlyeight hours, but in my defense, it was only partially my fault.
The sound of crying permeated my sleep, and I woke up instantly, surveying the apartment quickly for any signs of disturbance. The sound was coming from Kayla’s room, and I also heard her shushing Hunter. I had barely slept the night before, but I still got up and headed to their room, ready to be of assistance.
Walking to the bedroom, I opened the door.
Lust slammed into me.
I should have knocked. Ireallyshould have knocked.
Kayla froze in the act, about to feed Hunter. She was also completely topless.
