“My job is ninety-eight percent strategy, going over details, and standing around just waiting,” I reassured.
She curled her body into mine. “It’s the two percent that frightens me.”
My heart bloomed inside of my chest. The idea of having someone more concerned with me than the family I worked for was unfamiliar. It felt strange in a good way to have someone care about me.
“You don’t have to think about that. I’m damned good at my job,” I assured.
She wrapped her arm around my waist. “I don’t doubt that.”
It remained quiet for a few minutes as I stroked her braids. There was an ease. As we laid there on that broken bed, the air didn’t need to be filled with anything more than our mere presence and our inhalations and exhalations.
“Tell me about your family.”
I stiffened.
“Not who you work for.Yourfamily,” she reiterated.
Releasing the breath I held, I shrugged. “Not much to tell. It’s just me and my father.”
“What about your mom?”
“She died when I was nineteen. Who knew a two pack a day habit for over twenty years could lead to lung cancer,” I quipped.
“I’m sorry.” She kissed the center of my chest.
I started to say something dismissive like ‘it was a long time ago’ or ‘I’m over it’ but I couldn’t. My mother was far from perfect, but she loved me, and I still missed her.
“You and your dad seem close,” Mia said.
“He’s a pain in my ass.”
She laughed. “My parents can be a pain, too, but I love them.”
“I didn’t even meet my father until after my mother died.”
“Seriously? Why?”
“My mother never told me who my father was until she was on her deathbed,” I admitted. Very few people in my life knew that.
“How come?”
I shook my head. “They didn’t have that kind of relationship. He wasn’t the settling down type. She was angry at him for many years. I don’t know her exact reasoning to be honest. Anyway, I sought him out after I got out of the Army.”
“So, he didn’t know about you? I’ll bet he was shocked. Was he angry with your mom?”
I chuckled. “Hell yeah Rick was, but what could he do? She was gone. Plus, she wasn’t perfect, but I don’t let anyone talk shit about my mom openly and get away with it. Not even him.”
I squeezed my free hand into a fist remembering the bastards my mother had dated. A few of whom I’d gotten in between when they tried to put their hands on her in front of me.
“Why am I telling you all of this?” I asked out loud.
“I’m sor—”
“No,” I cut her off. “Don’t apologize. I just mean …” I ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t talk about myself often. Not to anyone. I don’t talk half as much about anything. But with you I’m a regular fucking chatterbox.”
Giggling, Mia snuggled in closer to me. “I’m glad because I like the sound of your voice.”
I snorted.
