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“Has it though?” She grins. “He won’t give up on you. Hehasn’tgiven up on you.”
“He left—”
“Youmadehim,” she counters, narrowing her eyes at me, her cute button nose wrinkling.
God, lying to this kid is going to be impossible.
“Okay, I made him,” I admit.
She nods. “It’s okay to want him still. He’s a good man.”
“You don’t know the things he’s done…Do you?” I ask as an afterthought.
She shakes her head. “No, but I know the things hewilldo, and those things make him a good man.”
Now it’s my turn to narrow my eyes at her. “Tell me.”
She shakes her head, her expression serious as she places her small hand over mine, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t.”
Her tears pull me up sharp, and I see her for who she is in this moment: a child who’s gone through severe trauma and is different in a world where difference is dissected and ridiculed. Her life won’t be an easy one, I don’t have to be clairvoyant to know that.
“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t need to know. I’ve gotten by so far without looking into my future.”
She nods, sniffing as she swipes at her tears. “I would tell you if I could. It’s just…”
“It’s okay,” I repeat.
We sit in silence for a few minutes just holding each other’s hands until she picks up the book I brought with me. My dog-eared copy of Grimms’ Fairy Tales has become a source of entertainment for the both of us these past couple days. She thinks the twisted stories are hilarious, and the fact that I love to read them even more so.
“You know, your story, yours and Roger’s—”
“Beast,” I interject. “He hates his real name.”
She gives me a small smile, tapping the cover of the book. “Your story is like one of these tales.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Exceptyourshas a happy ending.”
“It does?” I find myself whispering, wanting so much for that to be true and then despising myself a little for it. I have so many conflicting emotions when it comes to Beast. I don’t really know how to start unravelling them. It’s complicated.
“Promise me that when he comes to you, that you’ll listen to what he has to say.”
“I’ll try,” I say, climbing to my feet.
“Promise me,” she insists, pushing back her chair and reaching for me. “It’s important.”
I nod my head, swallowing past the tightness in my throat as I grasp her hand in mine. “I promise.”
“I wish I could come live with you,” she says after a beat, throwing herself into my arms as a sob escapes her lips.
“I wish you could too, but you’re safe here. Carter was right about that, at least. I will ring you every day, and come visit as often as I can. I promise. You’re my sister and that’s never going to change. I’ll be like a bad smell that you won’t be able to get rid of, the black sheep of the family you’ll be embarrassed by in a few years.”
“Never,” she giggles.
“You swear?”
“I swear it,” she agrees, swiping at her eyes as she looks up at me. “I’m sorry about your dad, Kate.”
