Page 16 of Made for You
He shook his head, brushing that away as if it didn’t matter, before continuing. “I didn’t find out about Kiley until she was nearly five. I’d stayed away that long and”—his jaw flexed, the moonlight showing the sharp slope from his face to the shadow of his neck—“I should’ve showed up sooner. I missed a lot. And for a while, they all seemed to be functioning really well—I’d visit between missions, whenever I could, and Ki was happy, our mom seemed stable, and Carl, Ki’s dad, put on a good show.”
My heart kicked, worry for whatever was coming invading my chest. He exhaled, the sound one of exhaustion and surrender, and continued.
“At Kiley’s twelfth birthday party, I noticed the track marks on my mom’s forearms. She’d started using something heavy. Long story short, it took another two and a half years of fighting—trying to get my mom through rehab, then watching her relapse, all while her husband was dealing. I didn’t find that part out until Christmas almost two and a half years ago. Ki called me and—”
His abrupt halt forced my hand. I reached out and gripped his forearm, wanting him to know I was here—I wasn’t scared away by his story. My hand met the cool skin of his wrist, and his eyes snapped to the point of contact. He swallowed, then his gaze found mine.
“Anyway, I went and got her. Right then. And luckily, I had a lawyer friend or two who worked with CPS and a bunch of other entities that got Kiley under my guardianship. Her dad’s in jail, I don’t know where our mom is now after we tracked her down and tried to get her into rehab last time, and Kiley’s legally mine.”
I had no idea what to say—how to console or encourage him. So I just said, “I’m sorry you both had to go through that.”
His dark eyes held mine for another beat before he spoke again. “I am, too. And I’ll never forgive myself for missing the signs things were getting worse. I willneverforgive myself for not realizing what was happening.”
His voice had turned ragged, and my heart squeezed at the vicious truth there. He blamed himself in more than one way for Kiley having to endure what she did, and something told me he hadn’t said it all.
“You got her out. She needed you and you were there for her, even if it took a minute for you to figure it out. That’s important.”
He didn’t acquiesce or accept my words, so I doubled down. “I don’t know everything, but I can see you’re trying. That’s what she needs. Maybe you’re a little over the top at times, sure, but you’re out here agonizing over everything, and let me tell you, not every kid has someone like you. Her parents weren’t, and even though it doesn’t feel like it, you’re giving her a gift in doing so. It doesn’t mean you won’t mess up or hurt her or make the wrong choice, even accidentally, but it does mean that your effort matters.”
His brow furrowed as we stood there, our gazes locked, bodies connected only by my hand on his wrist. The chill night air clung close, colder now in the aftermath of our conversation.
“You sound like you might know something about this,” he said quietly.
“I might.” But even this kind of conversation felt new and a little dangerous to the parts of me I’d held separate. I wanted to share, and I wanted to hide it all away. I admired him for sharing, but I didn’t know how to reciprocate. Not yet.
The fact that I wanted to, even part of me, signaled progress. Growth. And at some point later, when I reviewed every second of this night, I’d be proud of that feeling.
The security light in Gram’s driveway flickered off and drew our attention. I dropped my hand, finally breaking the connection between us, but he grabbed for my fingers and held them fast before I’d retreated completely. Despite the heaviness of the moment, the discussion, the truths we’d both just shared, my stomach somersaulted, head over heels.
His warm, calloused hand enveloping my much smaller one had my pulse scrambling and my thoughts scattering all over.
“Should come back on as soon as you get close,” he said, more familiar with my own grandmother’s security system than I was.
“Yeah,” I said lamely, the magnetic pull between us unlike anything I’d ever felt.
We stood there for another moment, only the stars and moon lighting the world around us, our hands still clasped. The scent of him clung close with his jacket around my shoulders, and I knew if I stayed there much longer, I’d do something insane like try to kiss him.
“Thank you,” he said, that voice rich and dark as the night.
I slipped his jacket off, and he took it before I dropped it. “Thank you, too.”
Everything out of my mouth felt silly, too big and too small all at once. A not unfamiliar feeling, and a sure sign it was time to cease speaking before I said something rash. And yet, I hated to think of walking back, the light flicking back on and washing away the darkness.
But it was late, and as much as I liked him, as much as I felt the incredible chemistry between us, he’d offered me an interview. I didn’t know whether that would work out or what would happen, but indulging in another touch, even a kiss, would certainly make those waters murkier.
So I raised my hand in an odd wave. “Good night, Bruce.”
“Night, Nikki. Sleep well.”
As I tucked into my bed a while later, my thoughts zipping in all directions and circling around the conversation and everything he’d shared, I doubted I’d sleep at all. I’d wanted to tell him about the mess of my past and how I knew his worry over Kiley was more than some kids ever got from their parents.
And more than fear of that feeling, a spark of hope and curiosity had ignited. The aftermath of our conversation hadn’t been dread over him asking about my past, but rather anticipation and the ever-increasing little fire in me to see if I might actually share it.
Logically, I could see he might appreciate knowing I’d been through something like his sister had. In the heart of me, though—in that quiet place that felt like Bruce Camden was trying to pry it open without even realizing it—I worried he might not be ready for the reality of me or my past.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Bruce
