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“I never touched him, and he never touched me.”
“I don’t believe you.” Something sinister flashes across her face, and then she’s prowling toward me in slow, steady steps. “If you never touched him and you didn’t ask Ronnie for the money, why not leave it to me?”
I force myself not to back up when she closes in on me, and all I smell is the vomit-inducing scent of booze and sex on her. “I don’t know why he gave me the money, Erin.”
She sags, looking a foot smaller. “What am I going to do?”
It feels like I’m being sucker punched as I watch her.
Erin can be difficult, but she’s had it rough. With her shoulders slumped, she appears younger. It reminds me of when she first took me in. The girl who lost her parents and put her own dreams aside to take care of me. Erin hasn’t always been the woman she is now.
It’s why I still put up with this new version of her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” The moment I say the words, she visibly stiffens. “Do you think I’d leave you with nothing?”
She took care of me for years, best she could.
Does she think so little of me?
Instead of reassuring her, she rears up at my promise. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“I know you don’t. Consider it a thank you for everything you did for me.”
And I mean it.
Although she’s made my life difficult the past few years, it doesn’t negate that she took me in. That she once tried her best to be there. That, in truth, she saved me.
“You’ll give me the money?” She leans closer. “When you finally get it, give it to me like it was never yours, to begin with.”
“Yes.”
She worries her lip at my answer, then nods. “It’s the least you can do for me raising you.”
I nod. I’ll figure out another way to escape. To achieve my dreams. To be free. The money is worth this fight with Erin. And I meant it when I said it’s the least I could do for Erin raising me.
“But I’m not here to talk about the money,” I add.
“Fine.” She motions to the kitchen chair. “Sit. Now that I know you aren’t forgetting about me, you can stay. Hang out.”
That’s the last thing I want to do, but instead of making this awkward, I do.
“Did you know about Ronald?”
“Know what?” She laughs as the question clicks. “About him having another family? Hell yeah . . .”
“No, not that. Did you know about Ivy?”
That Ronald sold her . . .
Erin looks everywhere but at me. First at her hands. The ones tapping her thighs. Then she glances down at her feet. Both shake, moving her legs in a frantic rhythm. I don’t know if she’s having withdrawals or just nervous.
Finally, her gaze lifts, but instead of looking at me, she looks over my shoulder. Something in the way she holds her body and the lack of eye contact makes my heart sink, and I don’t want to know, but I have to.
“Did you know what he was planning for his daughter?” I press.
She doesn’t answer, and her gaze never meets mine.
“How could you stay with him knowing he’d sold his own—”
