Page 65 of Wardrobe Malfunction

Okay…

So, I’m taking it, home wasn’t the best place for her.

And that pisses me off, making my gut tighten.

“Is your family still back in Philly?” I ask carefully.

She shakes her head. “I was raised by my grandma, and she died when I was thirteen. I went into foster care. My foster parents weren’t bad people, but they didn’t give a shit either. They were just in it for the money. They had a bunch of us kids living with them. So, when I turned eighteen, I was out of there. I applied to an art college in New York; it was where I had always wanted to go. I got accepted and moved there. Then, I met Nick.”

She smiles fondly, and jealousy lances through me.

“Nick?”

“He’s my best friend,” she says. “He’s my family. We have an apartment together.”

“Okay, so not to sound like a jerk…but Nick…have you and he ever…”

She laughs. “No. For one, I’m not his type. You are.”

Ah.

“And, even if he were straight…I don’t see him like that. He’s like my brother.”

“Good.” I move my hands to her ass and squeeze, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “So, what about your parents?” I ask.

Then, I wish I hadn’t because she freezes in my arms.

I lean back, looking her in the face.

“My mother died when I was two. She was murdered…by my father.”

“Jesus, Charly.”

She shrugs her shoulders like it doesn’t hurt her, but I can tell it does. Of course it would.

“Shit happens, right? And it’s not like I remember her. Or my father. He’s still in prison. He will be for the rest of his life. After my mother died, I went to live with my grandma. She was the only living relative I had. She did her best, but she was old. I think it was hard for her, seeing me every day. I look a lot like my mother. She never hurt me. I was always well cared for, but she wasn’t exactly the loving type.”

I wrap my arms around her, hugging her, and she stiffens, but then she slowly relaxes in my arms, her arms sliding around my back, holding on to me.

I can’t even imagine what her life has been like. My family is amazing. I grew up knowing I was loved. There wasn’t a day my mom and dad didn’t tell me that I was loved with either words or actions.

My cell starts to ring in my back pocket.

I sigh. Loosening an arm from around her, I slip it out and glance at the screen. It’s Aiden.

Charly steps away from me. I frown. I don’t want her going anywhere.

“Yeah?” I answer.

“I’m outside,” Aiden says.

“Okay. I’ll be down in a few.” I hang up and slide the phone back in my pocket.

She’s standing over on the other side of the room, her butt resting against the dresser, fingers curled around the edge of it.

“Aiden’s here,” I tell her.

“Okay. We should probably leave separately.”