“Foster sister. Yes.”
He started pacing back and forth, like a Tyrannosaurus Rex. All I could do was stand there and blink.
“Colson told me you were a foster child,” I admitted. “He also said you got put in a real bad place.”
Ripley snorted. White puffs of air exited his nose, making him look like a dragon.
“Bad place,” he repeated, sardonically. “You could say that.”
“Ripley…”
“More like the center stage of the clusterfuck circus,” he barked. “Violent father. Checked out mother. Way too many siblings for such a tiny house, each of them pulling their own full set of emotional baggage.”
I held the jacket out again. This time I shook it at him.
“Why so many?”
“Because when you’re a foster parent, you get paid by the kid. And the more messed up each kid might be, the moreproblems they have, the more benefits you can cash in on.”
I could visualize it all, of course. A whole childhood, never getting the attention you truly deserved. Fear of attachment. Fear of detachment. Sharing a space with brothers and sisters who felt more like roommates, sailing in and out of your life.
“The man I hurt real bad, when I was young?” Ripley continued. “That was my foster father. He was violent with me all the time, but I chose to take it. I kept telling myself it made me tougher. That it was no big deal.”
He sighed heavily, and sank against the rock.
“I was about sixteen when he finally left me alone,” he said bitterly. “As it turned out, there were new targets to pick on. Adam. Brayden. My little foster brothers were young and naive, and the system hadn’t ruined them yet. He tried pulling the same shit, but I stepped up and protected them. I’d finally grown bigger than him. He was afraid of me.”
“Good,” I agreed.
“Good for a while,” agreed Ripley. “But by then I’d just about aged out of the system. I showed Adam and Brayden how to stick together. Prepped them to take care of themselves, for when I couldn’t be there to protect them.” He let out a weary breath. “And that’s right about when Natalie showed up.”
I dropped the jacket and went to sit beside him. For a quiet few moments, we just watched the snow fall.
“Things changed when Natalie entered the house,” he explained. “And for once, it was for the better. Everything seemed softer, happier, more alive. We fixed the house up together, played games, cooked meals. There was finally laughter. Camaraderie, between all of us.” He paused, trailingoff. “Until…”
I knew before he even said it.
“He went after her, didn’t he?” I asked. “Your foster father?”
“Not at first,” Ripley said slowly. “But yes, eventually he did. And in a… much different way.”
My lips went tight. “Shit.”
“I had to do something,” Ripley growled. “When I did, it was just like the guy, back in Belize. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I broke so many bones in his face, he didn’t even look the same afterwards.”
“The fucker deserved it,” I seethed. “You did nothing wrong.”
“I know, and I don’t regret it. I never have.” He looked to the snow-flecked sky. “But after that, I went on the run. I couldn’t check with Adam or Brayden for years, but they turned out okay. They got a place together, down in Savannah. I still send them a couple of bucks here and there, when I can. It helps out.”
“And Natalie?”
He turned to face me. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for her? Foster kids are hard to track. So many name changes. So many records that get sealed up, or thrown out. I’ve wanted to know about Natalie forever. I’ve always pictured her laughing and smiling, raising a family. Enjoying her life.”
His jaw went ferociously tight.
“And now Donovan Prescott’s going to use her as leverage against me.”
I leapt to my feet and spun to face him. Putting my forehead to his, I grabbed him by the cheeks.
