Undeserving (Undeniable #5)(27)

"You need it more than me."

Debbie's attack of conscience intensified. No one, literally no one, had ever been this kind to her. Her guilt flamed hot once again, Preacher's continued generosity making her petty thievery feel a thousand times worse than ever before.

"I'm sorry," she blurted suddenly, finally facing him. "For, um, taking your stuff, and-"

Preacher laughed outright. "Liar." He laughed again, shaking his head.

Cheeks heating, Debbie clamped her mouth shut. Her guilt evaporated, replaced by indignant embarrassment. If she didn't need his jacket so badly, she would have thrown it in his laughing face.

If Preacher noticed her shift in mood, he didn't appear bothered by it. Still smirking, he placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "Speakin' of. How'd a girl like you get so good at pickin' pockets?"

"A girl like me?" she bit out. 

He shrugged. "You aren't a typical street rat. For starters, you got good teeth. And you're smart, too." He tapped two fingers against his temple. "Pretty easy to tell the difference between someone who's been to school and someone who hasn't. So I'm curious how a girl like you ended up so slick. I'm guessin' someone showed you the ropes?"

She wanted to hate him for figuring her out so perfectly. For knowing so much about her without knowing her at all. For being an all-knowing arrogant ass whose overly confident smirk was grating on her nerves. For laughing at her apology.

But for all her irritation, there was an odd sort of warmth blossoming inside of her. Preacher had seen straight through her. Through the grease and the dirt, through her torn, dingy clothing. Through the lies she'd told him.

No one, not one single soul, had ever done that before.

Debbie took a breath. "Sunshine. Her name was Sunshine."

Early on in her travels, Debbie had found herself stuck in Nashville, Tennessee. Out of money and without a plan, she'd spent most nights sleeping along the Cumberland River under a bridge, and most days rummaging through city garbage cans for something to eat. Out of options, she'd been trying her hand at panhandling on the Boulevard, typically with very little luck, when she'd happened upon Sunshine.

Tall and slim, her hair the color of ripe wheat, her skin glowing a tawny gold, a young woman had expertly strummed her guitar, crooning to a crowd of people. Debbie had stopped to listen, partially transfixed by the haunting quality of her voice, but mostly jealous of the ever-growing pile of money being tossed into her guitar case.

Hours passed, the crowd dispersed, and still Debbie remained-she'd had nowhere else to go. She'd watched the woman pack up her guitar and get ready to leave. But instead, she'd turned to Debbie and smiled.

"Ride's over."

Startled, Debbie blinked at the pimply-faced teenager standing outside their cart. Mouth downturned, eyes glassy, he stared blankly back at her.

"Ride's over," he repeated, deadpan. "You two have to get out."

"Here, kid," Preacher said, handing the teen a folded bill. "Buy yourself a personality. We're stayin' on."

Turning back to Debbie, Preacher folded his arms over his chest and quirked a brow. "You were sayin'?"

Debbie looked at her lap, where she was still clutching Preacher's denim jacket. The butterfly ring on her index finger-a gift from Sunshine-glinted in the moonlight. As she often did, she began to twist the silver band around her finger. "She taught me everything I know."

Sunshine had been born on a commune, the unclaimed result of her mother's many bed partners. She'd run away at thirteen for reasons she'd never disclosed to Debbie. By her twenties Sunshine had learned more than a few tricks for surviving on the road, pickpocketing being one of them. Surprisingly enough, Debbie had excelled at it.

Still twisting her ring, Debbie took a breath and met Preacher's gaze. "And then one day she was gone."

"She ditch you?"

Debbie nodded. Those few weeks had been the happiest of her life. She'd thought she'd found a companion, someone to share the burden of her lifestyle with. She'd thought her bad luck had finally taken a turn for the better.

She'd thought she'd found a true friend.

Finding her suddenly gone one morning, Debbie had broken down in tears. And she hadn't cried since.

"It wasn't anything you did." Shaking his head, Preacher's gaze wandered away.

"Known chicks just like Sunshine. Guys, too. They got the bug. Gotta keep movin', you know? Can't sit still, can't stay in one place too long. Bet my ass she stayed longer than she would have if she hadn't met you. And I'm guessing she left while you were sleepin' ‘cause she didn't want to have to say goodbye."