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“I like grown-up women. Only a pervert would look at their little adopted daughter and think dirty thoughts,” I mutter and then notice her scolded gaze. “But you’re right to be cautious. I’m still a stranger.”
“Okay,” she says, still seeming worried.
“If you’re scared of the dark path, I could hold your hand. But if something jumps out and I need to beat on it, I’ll need my hand back.”
Blair gives me the same damn smirk her mama wears when she thinks I’m fucking adorable.
“I’m not scared of the dark.”
“Really? I was when I was little,” I say and start walking. “I would run from the lighted part of my room and jump onto the mattress. I was sure something was under the bed, waiting for me.”
Blair smiles at my confession. “I’m scared of people, not the boogeyman.”
“Yeah, people suck. I’d be happier if there were fewer of them to fuck up my day.”
“Who do you not like?”
“Almost everyone. Even when I was little, I hated people. That’s why I only have a few friends. I refuse to care about everyone.”
“Do you like your family?”
“No.”
“I like my mama and brothers and sister and that’s all.”
“Anyone ever mess with you in the Copper family?”
“Not so much. My aunts like to say I look like my mama. I think they mean that as an insult.”
“They’re jealous hags. I think I met some of them yesterday. Real bitches. They wish they were beautiful like Landry and you.”
My compliment inspires a shy grin from Blair. Her toughness from the first night seems to have evaporated. Like Landry, Blair puts on a show of strength, yet they’re just sweet chicks who want to be loved tenderly.
“I have a cousin who tried to do something bad,” Blair says, and I go still.
“What kind of bad?”
“He was fourteen. I was seven. But he said I was pretty and should be his girlfriend.”
“What did you say?”
Shrugging and lowering her gaze, Blair digs her sparkly pink shoe into the dirt. “I didn’t want to touch his thing. You know, his boy part? I know the right word, but I don’t want to say it.”
“Use the words you like. I’m not grading you, kid.”
Nodding, Blair exhales hard like she’s fighting emotional garbage swelling up in her little heart.
“Well, I told him no a few times, but he kept asking. Like getting pushier. I didn’t want him to get in trouble. He was nice to me. One time, my aunt was supposed to be watching Beau when Mama was in the hospital having Beckett. But Stacy was on her phone, yelling at someone. Beau missed Mama and wanted to go look for her. I think that’s why he walked in the street. My cousin ran out and got him before the car did. It was really close. He saved my brother. That was why I didn’t want him to get into trouble.”
“So, what did you do?”
“My mama said I can tell her anything. Like if someone is pissing me off or making me sad or I feel weird around them. I can say whatever to her. I can even tell her if she’s being mean. She won’t get mad.”
As we stand in the murky woods, I ask, “Did you tell her about your cousin?”
“Yeah, but shedidget mad. She grabbed scissors and went after him at our family get-together. We go to them every month. Sometimes, we have them at our house, but not so much. Grandpa Jakob says Mama is a bad cook and can’t be in charge of feeding everyone.”
“What did your mama do with those scissors?”
