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“Why are you having nightmares?”
“Just your everyday nightmares. Foster child shit. You know…going from home to home with no one really loving you.”
“Lies,” he says.
I huff out a sigh and decide if he can be honest with me, then I should do the same. “Okay fine. I watched one of my foster fathers beat my foster mother to within an inch of her life and then proceed to do the same with their son. That shit still fucks me up.”
“Did he hurt you?” Zuko asks.
“I hid. He called out for me for what felt like hours, and I was terrified. I hid in the kitchen, watching the blood from his wife soak the floor. Her eyes were wide open, and blood ran in rivers everywhere.”
“What happened to him?”
“When he didn’t find me, he took a gun and shot himself in the head. Which, when you think about it, is selfish considering what he did to them.” Glancing at Zuko, his eyes are firmly attached to mine.
“What?” I ask.
“I can see where you get your attitude from. Having to care for yourself your whole life...” He adds, “It either breaks us or makes us.”
“And what did it do to you?”
“Oh, I’m all kinds of fucking broken. Not even God himself could put me back together.” He winks.
Fuck.
He winked.
Panties, meet the floor.
“I think we’re all a little broken. Some simply hide it better.” I lift the glass to my lips and finish off the wine before I place it next to me. “The real question is…how do we put ourselves back together?”
“If you figure it out, don’t let me know. I prefer myself the way I am.”
I smile at his answer.How many people do you meet that are as fucked-up as him and can be that honest?Hell, actually, they all probably do, as they don’t see anything wrong with themselves. I guess that’s a better way to look at the way you are rather than trying to psychoanalyze yourself every day as to why you do certain things. I admire his honesty.
“I’m taking my car soon and going home,” I announce.
“How have you been getting to work?” he asks.
“I either drive my old car, or Louise takes me.”
He hands me the keys without another word and pulls me over to him.
SEVENTEEN
Zuko
She hasa thing with people touching her but doesn’t seem to mind when I do, and I like that the most. Somehow throughout the morning, she has worked her way over to my lounger and is between my legs, her head on my stomach, and her arms wrapped around me.
I pull the sunshade over her as I hear the glass door slide open. There are only ever two people who it could be—my brothers—no one else has access to or would dare step foot inside my home.
She moves a little, and her head nestles into my stomach as I spot Kenzo. He freezes, and Kyson comes up behind him with a big dirty smirk all over his face. My hand strokes her hair—lavender, such an odd color—but it suits her personality to a T.
“You brought her back?” Kyson asks as he bends down and looks at her sleeping on me.
For someone who hates to be touched, she sure is doing a lot of it.
“Why?” he adds, studying her. “I mean, there is a pool. Did you bring her here to drown her?” He meets my eyes, a devilish gleam in his.
