Hot Protector(29)

“It had to hurt when you heard he’d adopted me… but Chase, he did it because my mom pushed him. He did it to make her happy. It wasn’t because of me. Truthfully, he’s always felt like just a guy my mom lives with.”

Now he felt like the one who needed to apologize. “Does that bother you?”

She shrugged. “It used to, but no, not anymore. I’ve had a good life and I’ve had advantages. I know that. And I’m sorry you feel like those advantages were denied to you.”

“When you say it like that, I sound like a fucking whiny asshole.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant—”

“No, I get that. I’m kinda ragging on myself here. But you know why I hate Tyler? It’s not because he failed to buy me a car or, hell, every fucking thing I wanted, which is what I thought rich people did. No, I hate him because of what he did to my mother.”

He watched as the Bruins scored again, wondering why in hell he was telling her these things. She hadn’t said anything, but he knew she was waiting for the rest of the story.

“Tyler and my mother met in Nashville. She was a waitress, and he was just starting to play the clubs. He wasn’t famous. Hell, he wasn’t even in demand. He was good on a guitar and he had a couple of songs he’d written. But he needed to go to the next level, and he wasn’t getting there. He was stuck in a rut. Until he met her. Until they started living together and she listened to him and encouraged him. She wrote lyrics for him and he set them to music. They were a team, and he promised her the world.

“But then she got pregnant, and he got his big break. He left her to play with B.B. King, promising he’d come back when the tour was over. He didn’t. He met someone else, and he didn’t come back.”

“He’s an asshole,” she said, her voice breaking.

He swung his head to look at her, surprised to see tears on her cheeks. He had a sudden urge to tug her into his arms and hold her close. But he wouldn’t do it because he was afraid he wouldn’t stop at that.

“She was too proud to ask him for anything. He sent money from time to time—and then one day he decided I should visit him and she agreed. That’s when the California trips began. I have no idea why he suddenly wanted me to spend time out there. But when I was sixteen, I told him I wasn’t coming back. And I didn’t. End of story.”

“She should have sued his ass for child support. You deserved that.”

She sounded angry, and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

Fuck. This shit was getting too deep. Why had he delved into the depths of his painful childhood? And why did he feel kind of stunned by her vehemence on his behalf?

“Yeah, maybe she should have. But I think she was more afraid he’d try to take me away from her. And maybe he would have out of spite.”

Her eyes glittered and her jaw was set in a stubborn line. She was pissed, and it kind of awed him.

“She was probably right. He’d have gotten custody of you and then ignored you while he partied and had a good time. You were better off, even if you didn’t have all the things you wanted.”

“Did they ignore you, Sophie?”

She snorted. “Let’s just say that sometimes the adult in the room was not Tyler or my mom. They would drink until they were falling-down drunk, smoke weed, and fight until they passed out or started ripping each other’s clothes off so they could make up. I stayed in my room and pretended my real parents were coming to get me.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “We’ve said that a lot to each other tonight. Maybe we should talk about something else for a while.”

He could only stare at her. Her eyes flashed and her cheeks were high with color. She was beautiful, fiery, and he wanted her right now.

But taking her when they were both angry and hurt was not the thing to do. If he hadn’t known it before her revelation about Tyler and her mom fighting and fucking, he definitely knew it now.

Instead, he reached for her hand and twined his fingers in hers. She stiffened for a moment—and then she relaxed and squeezed his hand in return.





14


Sophie snuggled into the covers and fought the first currents of wakefulness. She was comfortable, warm, and safe. If she woke up, she didn’t know if she’d be any of those things.

The bed was small, narrow, and she was crowded up against the edge on one side and the wall on the other. Definitely a narrow bed. Perilously narrow.

She opened an eye and tried to focus on her surroundings. There was a table and a lamp… and the soft glow of a television. There hadn’t been a television in her room—