Page 18 of My Omega's Baby
“I win?” What did that mean?
“My mom did teach me how to cook. You didn’t have a mom, so you win.”
I crossed my hands over my chest. “I had a mom.”She just didn’t want me.“Everyone has a mom.”
An uneasy silence fell. He shifted and faced me. “Did your parents die?”
“What?” I frowned at him.
“You said you were in foster care. How did you get in the system?”
I pressed my lips tight and wrestled with my anger at how nosy he was being. When I didn’t respond, he sighed and leaned toward me.
“You met my mom. What’s the big deal talking about your family?”
I gave him a dirty look. “Why? So you can make fun of me?”
He raised his brows. “What? I wouldn’t mock your family.”
“Yeah, right.”
He made an impatient sound, and he grabbed my wrist. “Blade, I would never make fun of your family. I’m not like that. Family is important to me.”
His sincerity got through to me, and the feel of his fingers on my skin made my heart beat faster. I swallowed and met his gaze. “I never knew them.” My voice was hushed. I’d never told a living soul about my family. Why was I spilling my secrets to this man I couldn’t stand? Something about his hand on my arm made me want to talk to him.
“Never?”
I shook my head. “I was left in a hospital bathroom as a newborn.”
“Shit. That’s nuts.” He let go of my arm.
The minute he released his grip on me, paranoia set in. “Promise me you won’t repeat any of this to anyone.”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t even know why I told you.” I frowned, feeling rattled. “I never talk about this stuff.” Was it easier to tell him because he was an alpha and as an omega I instinctively trusted him?
His gaze held mine, and I could see the pulse in his neck hammering away. “I’m… I’m glad you told me.”
I wasn’t sure I was glad. I was still puzzled as to why I’d said one word to him. Why was everything twice as weird between us lately?
“What were the people who took you into foster care like?” He grimaced. “I mean… I know they must have been assholes because you said you left in your teens. I assume if they’d been great you’d have stayed.”
I wrestled with telling him more, but his gaze was so soft and open, I found myself relenting. “They did it for the money. They fostered a bunch of kids in their house.”
“Oh. Here I was thinking of foster parents as loving saviors.”
“Most of them probably are. I just got unlucky.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “Whatever.”
“No. Not whatever. That must have been unbelievably hard.” His voice was firm. “It’s awful they were jerks. They were in charge of molding you.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Meaning what? They were assholes, so of course I am too?”
“What?” He pulled his brows together. “That’s not what I meant.”
