Page 29 of Resist

“What do you remember?”

“Just that she was always sad. She cried a lot.”

“Is she still alive?” Coulton asked.

“I have no idea. She didn’t leave a note or tell us where she was going or anything. Mick was at the bar, working, like always. Mom was usually at the apartment waiting for us, but that day, when Eli and I got home from school, the door was unlocked and she was gone. We didn’t know what to do, so we sat there, watching TV until Dad got back late that same night. He was furious when he realized her stuff was gone and she’d left him.”

Coulton would have thought Mick’s first response would have been panic when he realized his young children had been alone all evening, but he was quickly coming to learn that Ainsley’s family didn’t do anything normal. Or kind.

He slid another piece of bacon onto her plate. She was thin, and given the way she’d devoured that salad last night, he was beginning to suspect that her slight frame was because she couldn’t afford to eat much. “Mick didn’t try to find her?”

“No. He just called her a stupid, worthless bitch and said good riddance.”

Wow. Just what every six-year-old girl wanted to hear after being deserted by her mother. Coulton hoped he never met Mick Hall. Then he decided he hoped he did. Because he had some choice words for the asshole.

“I still don’t understand the birdcage tattoo,” Coulton said, returning to the original question.

“It was just a drawing I’d been working on for a few years, and I thought?—”

“You drew it?” he interjected.

She nodded.

His eyes widened, and he blew out a low, impressed whistle, because the tattoo was seriously beautiful. It made him even more curious to see what else she’d drawn in that sketch pad of hers.

“Mom flew away. She escaped. I liked the idea of that. Of being free.”

Coulton reached out and grasped her hand. “You feel trapped?”

For the first time, her gaze lifted to his. “Life is a cage, Coulton.”

He didn’t have a clue how to respond to that, so silence crept in.

Mercifully, Ainsley found a way to break it, because his thoughts were reeling.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded. “Sure. Shoot.”

“How come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Coulton chuckled. “What?”

“You’re obviously loaded, with a great condo, super-cool job, and you have to know you’re not hard to look at. So why are you single?”

“Are you trying to figure out what’s wrong with me?” he asked, amused.

She tilted her head, studying him curiously. “Yeah. Kind of. Because there’s no way you don’t have women beating down your door. Are you gay?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Not gay.”

“Are you one of those swaggering athletes with commitment issues and a revolving door of women going in and out of your bedroom?”

Coulton shook his head. “Nope. I’m not a fan of one-night stands. Prefer real relationships.”

Ainsley leaned back. “Yeah. None of that computes. So you must have a girlfriend.”

“Do you think I would have asked you out if I had a girlfriend?”

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