Page 106 of Stealing Second

“Cora,” she says, filling in the blank.

“Thank you, Cora.”

I squat down and love on Elle some more as I wait for CeCe, hoping that takes the edge off. The fact that she has me all tangled up is different. It has not a damn thing to do with the Ivy League degree on the wall, and it probably should.

When the door opens behind me, Elle rushes to it, nearly knocking me on my ass.

“Easy, girl.” CeCe smiles as she pats her head, walks over to set a file and her tablet on her desk, then turns and smiles at me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say, taking her in and immediately noting her black eye is all healed up.

“What?” she asks as she looks down at her scrubs. “Is there?—”

“CeCe, there’s nothing but you. This look”—I use my hand to circle my face—“is just me trying to take all that is you in.”

She narrows her eyes a bit.

“Red, you’re stunning.”

I hold out the flowers, and she tries to hold back a smile, but when it breaks through, it’s brighter than the bouquet.

“Thank you.” She holds them under her nose and smells them, and then she leans back and pushes herself up onto her desk. “They’re gorgeous and appreciated, but before we get to tonight, or any other nights, I need you to know a few things about me.”

I move and sit my ass in a chair. “I’m ready and willing to learn all things Cecilia Shaw.”

Nodding, she smells the flowers again then sets them on her desk and crosses her arms. “Well, for starters, Shaw wasn’t always my last name.”

Holy shit. “Were you married? Are you?—”

“No.” She smiles almost sadly. “But that might be easier to understand than everything else?—”

“I don’t need you to share?—”

“But I need you to hear it from me, all of it, because I don’t want to be anything but honest anymore.”

Anymore?

“I’ve told you some, but not all, and honestly, I can’t remember what exactly I have shared, so you’re getting everything right now, okay?”

I nod because, right now, saying any of the things floating around in my head would be counterproductive.

“My mom died when I was really young, and Chloe raised me.”

This I knew.

“And the rest is not wholly my story to tell. My closest friends aren’t even privy to my past, so you have to give your word?—”

“CeCe, it’s yours,” I assure her, loving that I know—I fucking know—she trusts me, this, us. Now, we gotta get to the us part.

She sits up straighter and shows little emotion as she tells me about her monster of a father and what hell Chloe went through, and then what he put Cecilia through. As if that wasn’t too much, she tells me about Chloe’s pregnancy, her giving up the child, and that leading to a man named William Center, her father, finally being locked away. They stayed with a family, and then Chloe took CeCe and went to Texas, where she was able to fool a whole town at the ripe old age of fifteen.

CeCe saying Chloe raised her, it was not in the typical older-sibling way. She fucking raised her.

CeCe tells me about Max, her dog when she was growing up, which I easily surmise is why she went into veterinary science and doesn’t have her own dog. After that happened to Max, Chloe never went back to college, and then she was the victim of abuse again.

At this point, I think she’s done. How much more could there be?

“And then William was paroled, so Chloe wanted to find her daughter to try to keep her safe, which is why Gwen York was here, following a lead, and then Danny was hanging cameras, and Marks showed up.” She shakes her head a bit, and her eyes dart around, like she’s trying to keep everything straight, get everything out—hell, both maybe. “Her daughter? It’s Cora.”

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