“Absolutely.” Shadow was already nodding before he’d finished the question. “Listen, I learned a long time ago that sitting in the corner and crying does nothing but bring me more sorrow and pain. And it sure as hell won’t bring my mother back or take down the man who killed her. So I choose to smile and to laugh every chance I get. Ichooseto find humor in situations that most people probably wouldn’t. Because if I don’t…if I let my mother’s death become all-consuming, then there won’t be enough of me left to go after the man responsible. And I have to bring him down, Dig. He can’t keep getting away with what he did.”
Several seconds passed as they sat there, staring into one another’s eyes without uttering a single word. And this time, when Digger spoke up once again, it wasn’t to ask about her or her horrifying past, but instead he began to tell her more about him.
“You’ve probably already looked into the team’s backgrounds.” He settled back against his chair. “Hell, you probably know more about me than I do at this point.”
“Maybe,” she answered truthfully. “But old police reports and military records only give a girl so much. I’d really like it if you were the one who filled in all the blanks.”
He paused, that entrancing gaze of his studying hers a few seconds longer. And then those delectable lips parted, and he began to talk, sharing with her everything that had turned him into the man he was today.
“Well, let’s see…I never knew who my real dad was. Still don’t, actually. And I was four the first time I remember seeing my mom strung out on cocaine.”
The tightening in her chest got worse. “That had to be a hard thing to see. Especially as a little boy.”
“I remember being worried that she was having some sort of medical issue because she was in such a manic state. At the time, I didn’t know that word even existed. I just knew that something wasn’t quite right. When I’d ask, all she’d say was that she’d taken her ‘feel good’ medicine her doctor had prescribed.”
“And I’m sure, as a kid, you took her at her word.”
Digger nodded. “Doctors do good, right? They’re supposed to help make people better. So yeah, I figured if that’s where the so-called medicine came from, then it must be okay.”
“When did you figure out that it wasn’t?”
“About a year later.”
“When you were five.”
Another nod. “I came home from kindergarten one day and found her strung out on the living room floor. The needle was still sticking out of her arm, and I thought…” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. “I was sure she was dead.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, it gets better.” His broad shoulders shook with a humorless laugh. “Of course, you already know what happened with the whole?—”
“Tell me anyway,” she encouraged softly.
With another working of his throat, Digger pulled in a deep breath and gave her the shortened version of his heartbreaking childhood.
“I started getting bounced around the foster care system so she could try her hand at rehab. She’d do better for a while. Those first few weeks back, she was like Mother of the Fucking Year. But then she’d fallen back into old habits, and once that happened…”
“The cycle would start all over again.”
His nod was slight, his expression one of acceptance. But there was also love for a mother lost to him too soon, as well as some residual resentment and anger still brewing behind his dark, stoic gaze.
“Tell me about the men,” she prodded softly after the next stretch of silence became too deafening to bear.
“What about them?” He scowled. “They were a bunch of losers who were just as bad-off as she was, only their list of addictions included paying my mother for sex.”
“That’s how she ended up in jail, right? Weren’t you six when she was arrested and charged with prostitution?”
A sarcastic smile lifted one corner of his lips. “At the time, I remember thinking it would have been better if she’d actually died, rather than having a mom who was in prison. But then…something happened. After two years of being behind bars, my mom was finally, truly clean.”
Just as he’d accused, Shadow already knew the rest of the heartbreaking story. But she hadn’t lied when she’d said she wanted to hear it from his perspective, and when he finally opened up, she couldn’t help but share in his pain.
“Believe it or not, we had some good times after that.” His mouth curved into a ghost of a smile even as a flash of sadness filled his gaze. “She was released when I was eight, and for the first six months, I stayed with a foster family while she came for scheduled, supervised visits. Her parole officer helped her find a steady job, and with assistance from a community outreach program for parolees, she was approved for a two-bedroom apartment.”
“Is that when you started living with her again?”
“Yeah.” He took a sip of his water before continuing. “The place wasn’t the best, but it was far better than the run-down shack we’d once lived in. And the best part was, for the first time in my life, I actually had a mom.”
“I’m really sorry you lost her so soon after.”
