Page 45 of Forged in Deception

To her surprise, however, Axel shook his head.

“No, I didn’t. I mean, I called our police liaison, Allie, and had her run a criminal record check, but that was about it. I had no reason to pry too much further into your life.”

“Oh.”

“I assume you’ve been through hard times because, first of all, who hasn’t? And second of all, I mean, you make it pretty obvious that you’re dark and twisty.”

He grinned, and she scowled at him. “I am notdark and twisty.”

“So, tell me your secrets. Let me be the judge.”

Axel’s light tone made it clear that he was teasing.

She didn’t have to tell him anything. She could lock it all away just as she always had, and he wouldn’t hold it against her.

She knew that, and it was even more clear as she allowed herself a few seconds to get lost in the intensity of his eyes.

She drew a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, glancing around the waiting room, as though any of the other people waiting for their loved ones at four in the morning possibly cared about her messed-up life.

“Okay. I’ll tell you.”

“Would it help if I held your hand while you confess your dark secrets? Or I could let you use my shirt as a Kleenex again,” Axel suggested.

She shook her head.

“In that case, the linoleum floor is yours, madam,” he said, making a sweeping gesture.

She chose to grit her teeth and ignore his antics. The closer she got to telling her secrets, the more nervous she felt. She had to spit it out before she lost her nerve.

“I told you I have a brother, right?”

“Yep. John. Both of you guys are from Michigan, but he lives in Lubbock now.”

She nodded, impressed. Axel loved to joke around, but when it came to taking in important information, he clearly didn’t miss much.

“The truth is, our relationship is a lot more complicated than I let on. I worry about John constantly. I was upset about Destiny tonight, sure, but part of why it hit me so hard is because of the memories it brought back.”

“Is John schizophrenic?”

“No, but he has severe PTSD thanks to his time in combat. So does my dad, though his was from fighting in the Gulf War.”

“I fought in Afghanistan, too,” Axel said. “It’s tough. It really is hard to understand for most people who haven’t lived through it.”

He looked like he might say more, but he didn’t, so Karlin continued.

“Neither of us had a good relationship with my dad growing up. I mean, not my mom either, but my dad was worse. He didn’t hit us or anything, but he refused to deal with his trauma. He was an alcoholic, my mom was depressed, and they both moved to Florida when John turned eighteen. Left us with a paid off single-wide. Running away from their demons, I guess. From the little I hear from relatives on Facebook, I think they’re doing a bit better, so that’s something.”

She paused to take a breath. Now that she had opened the floodgates, it was difficult to stop talking. She hadn’t spoken about her family to anyone other than John for as long as she could remember–and even with him, she rarely brought up her parents.

“How old were you?” Axel asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Seventeen,” she said. “John and I are Irish twins. Technically, he’s the older one, but it didn’t make much of a difference when we were both so young to be on our own. It was hard to get by, especially when we were both trying to finish high school. I babysat and John mowed lawns, and we used the food bank a lot. John joined the military the second he graduated. I went to college close by to live as cheaply as possible, but after that, I had no reason to stay in Michigan, so I left, too.”

“Not exactly what I pictured when you told me you lived at home during college,” Axel chimed in. “You really have been through a lot. You should be so proud of everything you’ve been able to accomplish. You’re…it’s amazing, Karlin.”

She smiled, but wouldn’t allow herself to thank him. She may have beat the odds that were stacked against her, but she didn’t like to dwell on it.

“That time in my life was really painful,” she conceded, “and just when I thought I had gotten past the worst of it, John was honorably discharged early from his military service. His PTSD was too severe for him to continue as a soldier. As it turns out, it was kind of too severe for him to function in civilian life, either. He spent years self-medicating, mostly with alcohol, but he uses other drugs, too. He’s been sober for five months now, and I’m so proud of him, but he still has a long road ahead. He’s only able to work part-time, and he isn’t earning even close to enough money to pay for the help he needs.”

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