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Love stops pacing the hallway when I tiptoe out of Skye’s room. I grasp her hand and lead her down the stairs into the living room where Little Miss Won’t Go To Sleep can’t hear us.
“Is she asleep?” Love asks.
I collapse on the sofa. “Finally.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about picking out a Christmas tree.”
“It’s not your fault. If there’s anyone to blame here, it’s her mom for being a shitty person.” I growl. “Every single time I discover there’s another thing Skye should have experienced as a child and hasn’t yet – pumpkin pie, Christmas tree, you name it – I want to hunt Maria down and choke the living hell out of her.”
“Maybe I should poison her. No one will suspect me.”
I cock an eyebrow and she shrugs.
“I always did want to poison my step-witch.”
I chuckle. “I’m surprised you didn’t.”
“Damon Bragg, I am not a murderer.”
I raise my hands. “I’m not saying you are. But I’ve been on the wrong end of enough of Brody’s pranks to know there are ways to poison a person without killing them.”
“Really?”
“Syrup of ipecac for starters.”
“What does it do?”
He shivers. “It makes you vomit and vomit some more.”
“Priscilla would probably enjoy extra vomiting. Keeping thin was an absolute must for her. Once Dad passed away, I was lucky if she fed me more than a few carrots for dinner.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Mostly it was celery because it has negative calories.” She shrugs. “Don’t ask me what it means. I survived on school lunches until I graduated from high school.”
“And afterwards?” My jaw is beginning to hurt from how hard I’m clenching it. Her fucking stepmom starved her. What the hell? Did no one else in town notice? Did no one else in town care?
She dips her chin to her chest but not before I notice the blush blossom across her cheeks. “I discovered if I dated a man, he’d buy me dinner. And sometimes give me a little spending money.”
I pinch her chin and force her to meet my gaze. “You did what you had to in order to survive.”
She purses her lips. “I took the easy way out.”
“You survived.”
“I should have gone off to college.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Her eyes drop to her lap where she wrings her hands. “Dad was wealthy. When he died, he left half of his money to Priscilla and half went into a trust for me. I couldn’t touch it until I was thirty. But Priscilla could.”
“Wait. What are you saying? Did Priscilla spend your trust money?”
“Every last dime.”
“I changed my mind. Syrup of ipecac is too gentle for her.”
Love laughs but her eyes are full of sadness. Her eyes should never be full of sadness. They should sparkle with mirth and joy.
