“My birth certificate says that my name is Gideon James, and that my parents are Debbie and Ray James.” I swallow hard and drag my hand down my face. “And after I talk to you about this tonight, I’ll never speak of it again.”
She nods, her lavender eyes full of compassion and tenderness, and I know without a doubt that I’d give her anything she asked for right now.
Even this.
Even this horrible, twisted darkness that I come from.
“I’m originally from Bozeman. My parents were normal middle-class people. Dad ran a construction company, Mom was a teacher.”
She tilts her head to the side, listening intently. She links our hands together and kisses my knuckles, easing some of the tension in my shoulders.
“Dad was an alcoholic, and had a gambling addiction. He owed money to the wrong fucking people. Got arrested for theft, starting hitting Mom and got arrested for domestic abuse. He was a piece of shit.”
She clears her throat but doesn’t interrupt.
She also doesn’t pull away from me.
“I don’t know what happened that last day. Not for sure. I was about twelve, and I’d been at school. When I got home, I found my mom dead from a gunshot wound to the head, and my father nowhere to be found.”
Lena gasps, but she still doesn’t pull away from me.
“Gideon.”
“He’d killed her. He was probably high on something, who knows. They found him and arrested him, and he pleaded no contest because the evidence waseverywhere. Because Montana has a three-strikes rule, he’ll never get out of prison.”
“He’s still living?” she asks.
“Last I heard, which was when Ray and Debbie petitioned the state to adopt me. He contested.”
Her jaw drops. “He fuckingcontested?”
I love that she’s pissed on my behalf.
“He didn’t have any rights to me anyway. I don’t know how he heard about the adoption. Obviously, it went through, and I’ve never heard from him again. I don’t care to. He died along with my mom and my unborn sister. Did I mention she was pregnant?”
Lena climbs into my lap, straddles me, and hugs me tight, her face pressed to my neck.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s not your fault.” My hands rub up and down her slender back, down her sides. She feels so right pressed against me.
“Still sorry,” she murmurs. “I know your mom would be happy that you landed here, with these good people.”
I smile softly and drag my hand down her soft hair. “Yeah, she would.”
I’m not the angry kid that I was when I came here. I’ve healed, and I’ve been loved. But thinking about that time always leaves me a little off.
“You know,” she says quietly, “it’s not lost on me that you came from all that, your mom died the way she did, and you ended up protecting a woman. You’ve done for me what I know you would have done for your mom if you’d been there.”
This woman.I don’t know what to say. Because she hit the nail on the head, and it has my chest aching with emotion.
“Gideon.”
“Yes, little rebel.”
I feel her smile against my skin.
“Let’s go back to bed.”
