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“Not really. You’re being so nice to me.”
“You think I shouldn’t be nice to you?”
“Maybe not. Not when I was naughty in the first place.”
“Little girl, I will always take care of you. No matter what. Nothing you do will change that.”
“Sometimes it feels like all I ever do is bring bad luck, you know?”
“Maeve, that’s not true.”
“It feels that way. I think it follows me around like a bad smell.”
“Baby,” he murmured. “You do not bring bad luck with you. How could you when all you’ve brought to my life is sunshine and love? I haven’t had someone love me in years.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugged. “I grew up in a gang. My mom was a hanger-on. Someone they kept around to fuck and clean up after them. They kept her in booze and drugs. No one really knows who my old man is. Not that I care. It’s not like any of those assholes cared about me or my mother. The only person who looked after me, who showed me any affection, was Mama Jean.”
“Who was she?” she whispered. She couldn’t imagine Gray as a little boy growing up like that. Who wouldn’t love him?
“The leader of the gang was called Skull, and Mama Jean was his mother. Sometimes I wondered if he was my dad and that’s why she looked after me. But it doesn’t really matter. She fed me, made sure I was clean and dressed, even got me to school when it was time to go. Then, when I was twelve, a rival gang infiltrated the compound where we lived, and shot the place up. Twelve people died. One was my mother. But the only one I cared about was Mama Jean. She died in my arms.”
“Oh, Gray.”
“It hardened me. Something died in me that day. Or I thought it had, until I met you. And I realized I could love someone again.”
He was killing her.
“Don’t cry, baby. This was a long time ago.”
She wiped at her tears, knowing he didn’t like them. But she felt so terrible for that little boy.
“What happened next?”
“Social services took me. Put me in a boys’ home. It was okay. I was taken care of. But I was . . . I was angry. There was this beast inside of me that wanted free. I’d get into fights at school all the time. I just couldn’t get over her death.”
“Is that why you have that In Memory tattoo?”
“Yeah. I got that after I tracked down that rival gang and made sure that the bastards paid for what they did.” He glanced at her. “I’m really not a good man, girl.”
“I disagree,” she whispered.
“After I fulfilled my need for revenge, I was still angry. I needed something and I didn’t know what. I was on this self-destructive path. Until I met Markovich and he gave me a purpose. A home. A reason to keep going.”
So she owed Markovich a big hug.
“I’m so sorry,” she told him, untangling her hand from the blanket so she could reach over to squeeze his leg. “I’m so glad you had Mama Jean, but it’s terrible that you lost her like that.”
“Yeah, I was lucky to have her. Without her, I’m not sure I would have survived. You’re not horrified by what I did?”
“To that rival gang? No. Those bastards deserved everything they got. Wish they were alive so I could help make them pay.”
He shot her a look of surprise. Then a smile tilted the ends of his lips. “You’re so cute.”
“I could do it. I could have mad ninja skills.”
“You don’t have mad ninja skills.”
