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“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t wanna?—”
“Abbie,” he said in a low, warning voice, and her mouth snapped shut.
“Okay, I wanna play a teensy tiny bit.”
“What I thought. Eat first, play later.”
“Or,” she drew the word out, “I can play while you eat.”
He snorted as he sat on the bench and began pulling their food from the bag. “Nice try. Sit.”
“ButDaddy?—”
“Sit, pretty girl. Or you won’t get to play at all.” She leapt to the bench, planting her little ass firmly on it, a giant smile on her face as she wiggled around excitedly.
He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he pulled out her little container of mac and cheese, then his deli sandwich. Wasn’t fancy, but from the way she lit up, you’d think it was fine dining.
She took a few bites, then a sip of her juice, before looking out at the playground. “Did you come here a lot as a kid?” he asked.
Her shoulders fell as she shook her head. “I moved here when I was too old to come to the playground,” she muttered. He realized he didn’t know that this place wasn’t her hometown. He’d just assumed it was.
“Where’d you move from?” He took a bite of his sandwich as he watched her.
“New York.” His brows rose.
“City?” he asked, and Abbie slid her eyes to him as she nodded. “I’m from there, too.”
“Really?” She turned more toward him. “You grew up there? I thought you were from here.” He laughed, her words echoing his thoughts from moments ago.
“Moved here a decade ago. When did you move here?”
“Um, about twelve years ago,” she said. Yeah, so she’d been here about as long as he had. But he was freshly out of prison and thirty-years-old, while she was…fuck. She was nine.
He never thought about their age gap until he was slapped in the face with a reminder of how many years separated them.
“My dad was a lawyer there,” she explained. “He worked a lot of hours, and one day, he collapsed. Just fell on the floor of his office. They said it was stress, but my mother had been so worried he’d had a heart attack. It must’ve freaked him out too, because he left the city for this place.” She waved her hand around.
He couldn’t help it when his stomach twisted. Had her father been a lawyer when he was on trial? Probably. But the likelihood of him even knowing Jett existed was slim to none.
“I think Mother likes it here more than the city,” she muttered. “We’re wealthy, but wealthier than the other families, so she’s always been the one on top. When we were in New York, she was just another rich wife. Nothing special. But here…she thinks she’s someone special.”
He could understand that. Knowing the little bit he did about her mother, that seemed to be the main thing she ever worried about. Her image. Her family’s image.
“And you?” he asked softly, and she glanced at him.
“Me what?”
“Do you like it here more than the city?” She shrugged, looking back at her bowl of mac and cheese. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“I missed my friends in the city,” she said quietly. “It was hard for me to make friends, so the few I had there, I really cherished.”
“Did you make friends after you moved?” he asked, scooting closer to her.
“Not really. My parent’s status, their money, made it hard to connect with people. Some people wanted to use me, others were too intimidated to want anything to do with me. A lot of them judged me before they ever got to know me. So I kept mostly to myself.”
His heart ached for her. He wrapped his arm around her, tugging her into his chest. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”
“It’s okay,” she muttered, wiping her face. “I have a few friends now.” He’d never heard her talk about any of them, other than her brother and Wes, but he didn’t want to say that.
