I clenched my hand in her hair. “My biological mother came looking for me once. I was thirteen. She just turned up one day, out of the fucking blue. She saw my picture in the paper with my adoptive parents at some kind of art gallery opening; said she knew it was me because I looked just like my father, but I had her eyes.”
“And?”
“And I told her to go away.” I’d rejected her the way she rejected me. “My parents saw that as loyalty to them. Honestly, I was just angry. Know why? Her first words were, ‘I’m your mom. Your real mom.’ And that just pissed me off. Annette was my mom. This woman gave birth to me, sure. But then she left me. She chose to do that. She dumped me on a church doorstep, knowing I could end up anywhere. She didn’t go through an adoption process, she didn’t hand me over to social services…she just dumped me.”
Imani’s hands balled up into little fists. Fury glimmered in her eyes. “She shouldn’t have just turned up like that. You were only thirteen. For all she knew, you didn’t even know you were adopted. It was insensitive and selfish.”
I soothingly massaged Imani’s head. “She seemed surprised that I didn’t want to talk to her. People seem to automatically assume you want to meet your biological parents. I didn’t. I wondered about them— wondered what they looked like, what they did, if they were poor or rich, if my father even knew I existed at all, if my mother ever thought about me and if she was ashamed of me—but I was content with the family I had. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so rejected if she had given me up in a different way. Still, maybe I should have heard her out.”
Imani’s expression was gentle. “You were a teenager and in shock.”
“She probably just wanted money anyway.” But I’d never know.
“It’s okay that you were angry with her. Hell, I’m angry with her.”
Her protectiveness made me smile. “I had a good family, Imani. They were good people. They always supported me. They loved me in their way. They were encouraging and gave me the best of everything. Being adopted doesn’t define me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean they loved you ‘in their way’?”
“They weren’t family orientated. Their relationship was more like a business partnership. They liked to socialise, entertain, and hold dinner parties. Even Christmas was like a gathering that’s only purpose was to do some social networking. They were good people,” I reiterated, “just not family people. Tell me about your family.”
Her smile was wan. “Oh, I was a big disappointment to them.”
I frowned, growling, “Disappointment?”
“My family are very ambitious, academic people—which is great, good for them. And I’m proud of all their achievements. They work hard and they deserve what they have. But I’ve just never been like them. I liked learning new things, but I wasn’t academic.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I used to get so bored in school because I liked to learn through doing things, not by copying things from chalkboards and textbooks. My parents and teachers thought I had a poor concentration span. It wasn’t that. I was just utterly bored.”
“I can imagine.” And I knew her well enough to know… “You used to fall asleep in class, didn’t you?” Imani could sleep anywhere.
Her smile widened just a little. “Once or twice.”
I had a feeling that was a massive understatement. “So your parents were disappointed because you weren’t like them?”
“Yes. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor. I had no interest in being either one of those things. I don’t think it’s wrong if someone isn’t ambitious or doesn’t have a ‘calling’ or whatever. But they didn’t agree.”
“They didn’t understand you.”
“No, they didn’t. They didn’t get that I was happy just going with the flow and enjoying the present moment. I didn’t think too much on the future. Didn’t want to make grand plans. I just wanted to be…me, I guess. But I wasn’t enough for them.”
I kissed her. “Then they’re assholes and you never needed them.”
She yawned, pretty much melting on top of me. I wasn’t surprised. It had been an eventful, long-ass night and she’d not long recovered from a bout of induced exhaustion.
I lightly tapped her ass. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”
“I’m not tired,” she insisted as I carried her inside.
“Bullshit, baby.” In the bedroom, I stripped us both and spooned her. “Sleep.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll have all kinds of fun.”
She snickered. After another yawn, she whispered, “Thanks for sharing tonight.”
I kissed her hair. “Right back at you.”
Seconds later, she was asleep, which was pretty typical for Imani. For a while, I just lay there, listening to her breathe and inhaling her scent—so fucking thankful that she was finally all mine, and determined that nothing would change that.
CHAPTER NINE
(Imani)
Sitting at the breakfast bar, I watched Butch putter about the kitchen as he prepared breakfast. We hadn’t spent a day or night apart since we made our relationship public three nights ago. Yet, I didn’t feel smothered. I liked having him around so much. Liked it when we’d settle on the sofa while he watched the game and I read my Kindle. Liked it when he made us dinner—yep, the guy could cook seriously well—or we watched re-runs of American Horror Story and The Walking Dead.
I also liked it when he made me come so hard I almost passed out.
He didn’t invade my space, he fit into it. I did worry that he might miss having his own space. But he seemed content enough with the way things were.
If it wasn’t for the dragon situation and the fact that the girls still weren’t talking to me, all would be perfect in my world. Ava had paid me a visit, wanting us to speak in private. Butch, however, had refused to leave the room since he didn’t trust her not to upset me. I hadn’t insisted on him leaving because I figured if Ava was going to insult him, he had every right to be there.
Surprisingly, Ava hadn’t spouted any insults. She’d admitted that she worried this wouldn’t end well, but she also said we made a cute couple. She could see that I was happy; that Butch made me happy. That was good enough for her.
According to Ava, the other girls’ anger had cooled a little. At this point, they were mostly just concerned about me. Paige, however—who continued to ignore my calls—was still nursing her grudge. Knowing my BFF well, I was pretty sure she was holding onto her anger to cover her hurt feelings; Paige didn’t like to show pain as she saw it as a weakness.
I didn’t like knowing I’d hurt this person who had protected me several times over the years—a person who had been sent to kill me but had instead chosen to join me. But there wasn’t a lot I could do until she was prepared to hear me out. I’d thought about tracking all of my supposed friends down to say my piece, but I agreed with Butch that I didn’t need to explain myself to them or anyone else.
As for his squad…Salem and David had decided to stay out of the matter, though they had made it clear to Butch that they would be pissed if he messed this up. Max seemed to have backed down, since he was no longer standoffish with Butch. Then again, he wasn’t exactly warm with him either. The rest of the squad were, in Sam’s words, acting like twats…as if they were all simply waiting for him to let me down and walk away.
It was a shit situation, and it meant I spent many hours debating whether to bitch-slap these people who, though their hearts were in the right place, were being too judgemental. Butch didn’t seem as infuriated by it, and I figured that was because he was used to people thinking badly of him. He was used to being judged.
That wasn’t something I liked at all. He didn’t—
“You’re in deep thought,” said Butch, placing a coffee-flavoured NST in front of me.
Unscrewing the lid, I sipped at the drink. “You can’t walk around bare-chested and expect me not to disappear into my fantasies.”
He snorted, not buying that. “What were you thinking about, baby?”
“Nothing new. I’m just annoyed that most of the people we call friends won’t even give us—this—a chance.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
He didn’t seem totally convinced. “I’m trusting that you’ll tell me if something about us is bothering you. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Nothing at all is wrong, I swear. I sometimes worry that you might miss having your space, but that’s it.”
“My space?”
“You’re used to being alone.” I took another sip of my NST. “Isn’t it strange for you to suddenly have me with you all the time?”
His eyes narrowed. “Is this your way of telling me that I’m taking up too much of your space?”
“If it were that, I’d just say it. It’s you I’m concerned about. I swear I won’t be upset or offended if you choose to have some time alone.” I wouldn’t. I’d totally get it.