Other people. As inhim. She was recalling their interview, no doubt. “Comparison doesn’t make what you went through irrelevant, Ivy. Compared to kids with violent parents, my life was a walk in the park. You see?”
She nodded, but the conflicted pull at her brow remained.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “Believe it or not, this type of thing helps with my job. I’m not one of the therapists, obviously, just a survival specialist. But sometimes, for that very reason, the kids open up to me all the more. I’ve had a lot of them say they feel invisible next to their high-achieving siblings. People handle that in different ways,” he explained. “Many simply get into trouble to get the attention they want.”
How true that was. One kid in particular came to mind. A bright young man named Aaron. He’d been given every opportunity in the world to achieve greatness, but the combination of hurt, jealousy, and the need to be seen resulted in a deadly stream of behavior that almost killed him.
“I guess that’s true,” she said, reluctant to give herself any credit. “In my case, it’s made me determined to achieve greatness. At first, that greatness was getting good grades. Then it was getting a job with Channel 13. Once I achieved that, my goal was to work my way up to a direct position with Marsha Langston, the network’s top reality TV producer, which is what I do now. But since none of those accomplishments have impressed anyone a whole lot, I’m aiming to become her numberoneassistant, so…”
Easton realized something as she dropped off there and nodded her head. “You don’t enjoy your job?” he asked.
Her mouth snapped open, but nothing came out. She pinched her lips together for a blink, seeming to consider it. “I liked it better when I didn’t feel like I was competing for more all the time,” she finally said. “But there are still things I like about it.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“The interview part has always been my favorite,” she said without hesitation. “I love getting to know people. Having them open up about their life. Of course, if I get the promotion I’m going for, I won’t do many of those any more.”
He held her gaze for a blink, then reached out to slide a finger along her cheek. “Sounds like you might want to reconsider the position.”
She nodded, but stayed quiet, biting at her lip in contemplation. “Maybe.” A wry laugh slipped from her lips. “You ever allow volunteers at this place?”
Her question surprised and pleased him all at once. “Yes,” he said. “We rely on them, in fact. You have to pass a background check, of course. But we have a lot of volunteers come through here.”
“I think it’d be rewarding work,” she said. “You get to play a part in changing lives, at a crucial time too. It’s neat. Admirable.”
“I’m fortunate,” he agreed. “And for future reference, if youdodecide to volunteer here, I’ve got a few words of wisdom. First, wear boots without those little heels in back.”
She laughed. “Right.”
“And second, steer clear of the moonshine peaches.” He winked at her. “You get enough of those things in the two of us, and we might just wake up in the same sleeping bag.”
Her face flushed red. “Are you saying that’s abadthing?” she teased, causing his face to heat up next. His belly roared with heat as well.
“Not from my perspective,” he said through a chuckle.
She sighed through a laugh of her own, then fixed her gaze on him. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not,” she said, “but you mentioned that your childhood was…”
Easton took the cue. “Traumatic, yes. And I don’t mind. To give you the gist without all the dreary details, we grew up in a crack house, if you can call it a house. It was this run down little place next to the train tracks. A total dump. Torn carpet, damaged furniture, bare cupboards a lot of the time. At one point, we were missing a wall…”
“A wall?” she echoed.
He nodded, recalling the state of it as he fixed his gaze on the fire. “Not an inside wall either. My dad was on a bender, and he rammed his truck right through the back of the house where our bedroom was. He hung a tarp over the hole, supported it along the rain gutter with a two-by-four, and promised to fix it before the winter came, but that never happened.
“For the entire season, I used my mattress to help block out the cold. During that time, my sister and I, we slept on a heap of my mom’s old clothes in the closet. It’s a wonder that no one discovered the conditions we were being raised in.”
A shiver rocked through him. “Of course, my dad warned that if I ever told anyone about what our home life was like, they’d tear me and Chantelle apart and put us in different homes. He knew that was my one weak spot. I swear to you, Ilivedto protect her.”
Easton pulled his gaze off the fire in time to see Ivy smear tears off her cheeks. She exhaled a breath through pursed lips, seeming to fight back further tears. He almost hated planting such an image in her head. Of course, she lived in the same world he did; she had to know childhoods like his existed. But she likely hadn’t known someone who’d experienced such a life firsthand. Even that was encouraging, if he were honest.
“You told me that you have a hard time believing in love,” Ivy said with a sniff.
She remembered that, did she? “Sadly, yes.”
“But your sister doesn’t share that outlook.”
He shook his head. “No, but that’s agoodthing. If she was the way I am, she wouldn’t have Tim, and she wouldn’t be expecting a baby who’s probably going to be one of the coolest humans ever born.” Easton smiled. He might not have met his nephew yet, but already the little guy owned a big piece of his heart.
“Do you think thatyou’rethe reason she sees things in a different light?” Ivy asked.
