Right guy? Mia was sixteen. She’d had such an opposite reaction to her assault compared with Gabriella’s. Gabby had retreated from men completely, crushing on her older brother’s best friend, who was more like a brother to her than anything else and totally safe. She hadn’t taken an interest in other men until she was twenty-two. But Mia dated with a vengeance.
If only Clayton would intervene. Give the girl a safe outafter her father died. But it wasn’t her place to talk about any of that. At least, not with Mia.
“Can we meet one day after school to talk about it? I’m finally in Tennessee this week for that trial I told you about. Probably not too far from you in Heartache.” She hadn’t shared her real name with Mia, but she had asked her two weeks ago if it would be okay to meet her in person.
“Oh my God, you were serious about that?” Enthusiasm lit her voice and for the first time in a long time, Mia sounded like a kid. Happy. Excited.
“Yes. I grew up in Heartache. My brother still lives here.”
“That’s insane.” She snapped a piece of gum on the other end of the phone. “And yes, let’s meet. I go to Crestwood and I stay late every day to do all my homework at school. You want to just meet there?”
Gabriella’s stomach tightened to think of how much independence the girl had at sixteen. She didn’t need to ask permission of anyone to meet with a stranger, apparently. And wasn’t it scary to think of her going on date after date with no one looking over her shoulder? No one worrying about what time she’d be home?
At least Gabriella had Zach and Sam Reyes to watch over her as a teen.
“How’s tomorrow?” She’d planned to stay in court all day, but she was worried about Mia. Gabriella could leave the courtroom early.
“Sure. The late bus comes at four. Want to just pick me up at the school instead?”
“Yes. Look for a white compact car with Kentucky license plates. I’ll tie a pink ribbon to the antenna.” Gabriella pulled the ribbon off the cupcake container and set it on the nightstand so she would remember. She coulddrive her own car to the trial tomorrow in order to leave early.
After the way things had ended with Clayton tonight, he would probably be just as glad not to have her on the back of his motorcycle.
“And I’m the tiny brunette with big knockers. Trust me, you won’t miss me.” There was a bitterness in the words she didn’t bother disguising, but then, Mia had a history of body image issues, blaming her early development for catching the attention of the older boy who’d molested her.
“We can get something to eat at the Peachtree.” Gabriella had seen the name of the restaurant on the back of one of the cards in the goody bag—Nina Spencer’s card, in fact. The restaurant hadn’t been there when she’d been growing up, but then, plenty had changed around town. “They have great cupcakes.”
“Sounds awesome. Thank you, Ellie.” Mia disconnected on her end, reminding Gabriella she should share her real name tomorrow. Everyone in Heartache knew her as Gabriella.
She needed to maintain Mia’s trust. To help her handle whatever came next in a life that had been full of upheaval. If only Clay would arrange to meet his sister. Maybe then he’d understand why Gabriella was worried about the girl. Understand why a family member needed to step in and keep an eye on her after her father died.
There was a desperate determination in Mia’s dating. Gabriella feared if someone didn’t convince her to be more careful—or watch over her—Mia would push her risk-taking behavior too far.
And as one of the only responsible adults in the girl’s life, Gabriella would never forgive herself if anything happened to the teenager.
Chapter Six
Clayton made surehe was waiting outside Gabriella’s motel cabin early the next morning.
He’d slept poorly, knowing damn well he would need to move up his time frame to see his father. And meet his half sister Mia. It wasn’t just because Gabriella said he should. Clay remembered what life had been like as a kid living with Pete Yancy.
Frankly he found it tough to believe time had softened the hard-drinking, unreasonable bastard with a hair-trigger temper. No matter what the department of child protective services believed about Mia being safe in Pete’s care, Clayton had plenty of reason to doubt his old man’s competence as a parent. If he’d known that Pete was applying for custody of one of his kids, Clay would have at least stepped in to share his experience with the guy. What if Mia had unknowingly walked into a worse situation by moving into her father’s home? Clay would speak to her caseworker and find out what was going on. Ensure the paperwork was in order for her to move into a good foster home again once Pete passed on.
That was the best possible place for a troubled teen. Clay had seen it for himself.
The sound of Gabriella’s door opening scattered Clay’s thoughts. She stepped outside wearing a long trench coat over a slim, dark skirt that almost reached her ankles and a butter-yellow sweater. With her wheat-colored hair smoothed sleek and just brushing the tops of her shoulders, she looked as polished as any high-power executive.
Kind of a mismatch next to him in a pair of dark jeans and boots. He’d added a gray jacket with his dress shirt, though, so he wouldn’t look totally out of place in court.
“Morning.” He held up his peace offering in a cardboard tray, two steaming cups of coffee to go. “I felt bad about the way things ended last night, so I thought I’d bribe my way into your forgiveness before we made the trip to the courthouse.”
She hesitated, her blue eyes darting to the cups.
“Actually, I was going to let you know that I need to take my own car.” She wrapped the trench coat around her, tying the belt to keep it closed. “I spoke to Mia last night after I went back to my room and we came up with a plan where I’d leave court early to pick her up after school.”
Clay shouldn’t be surprised she’d forged ahead where the teen was concerned after how upset she’d been the night before. But he’d hoped maybe she was just keyed up about the trial.
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t keep the motorcycle date after last night.” He balanced the cardboard tray on the porch rail, pulling out the cup he’d designated for her. “Take the coffee, though. The olive branch still stands.”
