"It's easier for ‘em that way. Somethin' is broken up there, in there." He tapped a finger to his temple and then over his heart. "They can't face staying, and they can't face leaving either."
Debbie took a moment to consider his words. It made sense, more sense than anything else. And for the first time since Sunshine had left her, she felt maybe not quite so miserable about it.
"Was your mom-is your mom like that? Like Sunshine?"
"Nah. She was just makin' do. Just getting by until she found somethin' better, somethin' permanent … like you." His eyes settled on Debbie, those dark depths quickly sharpening.
As uncomfortable as she was in the face of his scrutiny, Debbie held his gaze, even as her stomach twisted anxiously. This was the most she'd spoken to another person in quite some time, and by far the most truth she'd divulged in twice as long. She also assumed Preacher had already guessed as much, given how obnoxiously perceptive he was.
And then he smiled. Not a smirk. Not a laugh. A generous curve to his mouth that lifted his cheeks, reaching all the way to his eyes. In that instant, he appeared younger than he looked. Sweet, even. And achingly handsome.
Debbie's lips twitched. The unease in her stomach began to ebb. Instead of clammy, she felt warm-a sort of comforting warmth, a sensation that was completely foreign to her.
"Anyway," she mumbled. She glanced out across the fair. They had nearly reached the top again, and the view was no less beautiful than before.
"Stealing is easy when you're practically invisible. Hardly anyone even notices me." Unlike Sunshine, whose beauty and style had all but commanded attention, Debbie was plain in comparison.
Even before she'd set out on her own, she'd gone virtually unnoticed by her peers. She'd been the girl in the background, finding comfort in the shadows. And to her mother, she'd been only an accessory-a pair of polished pearl earrings worn only to complement the much larger, much more extravagant necklace.
Unfortunately the only person who had noticed her had been a monster.
"I noticed you."
Debbie's eyes darted back inside the cart, colliding with Preacher's.
I noticed you.
Those three words took flight, finding and nudging awake long hidden places inside of her.
Throat bobbing, she turned away. Why would someone who had spent her entire life hiding suddenly find being noticed so incredibly appealing? She didn't like being noticed. She worked hard to ensure she went unnoticed.
So what had changed so suddenly?
Unable to stop herself, Debbie's gaze shifted back to Preacher.
It was Preacher. She liked being noticed by Preacher.
Chapter 11
Preacher followed Debbie down the platform, observing the rigid line of her shoulders, the restless way she was glancing around as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough. Since telling him about Sunshine, she seemed suddenly agitated and twice as uncomfortable.
He didn't much like the way he was feeling, either.
Here he was, angry at the hand life had dealt him, pissing and moaning over his strained relationship with his father, wandering aimlessly without a clue-all because he could. He had more than enough money and more where that came from. And whenever he got sick and tired of wandering aimlessly? He had a home waiting for him. A family. Friends. The whole nine yards.
And here was this girl. With nothing. Day after day, fighting for her next meal, braving the weather, robbing truckers, and risking everything just to reach a city that, more likely than not, was going to eat her alive.
Yeah, he felt like a first-class asshole.
Debbie spun around suddenly, forcing Preacher to a lurching stop. He nearly reached out to grab her to avoid falling straight into her.
"I'm really sorry for taking your stuff," she rushed to say. She peered up at him through thick lashes. Her expression twisted. "I was just, um … I was … "
Having steadied himself, Preacher lifted his hand, signaling her to stop. "I get it. I ain't even mad."
He wasn't mad-not anymore. And he did get it. Her story had struck a chord in him. If anything, he wanted to do more for her. An old denim jacket and the paltry sum she'd taken from his wallet didn't seem like nearly enough.
"So, uh, I'm gonna go … thank you … um, for everything." Debbie tucked her thumbs beneath the straps of her backpack and offered him a tiny smile. He watched, somewhat transfixed, as a dimple appeared high on her left cheek.
She really was a good-looking girl, and sweet, too … when she wasn't stealing his shit.
Hesitantly she turned away.