Page 30 of Shep
I didn’t want to tell this shameful story to anyone, but Shep of all people had a right to know. I broke into his place after all.
“Yes. I lived with my older brother in the little trailer park on the county road between Barnes and Devil’s Ditch. He left town a few weeks ago. I give him my portion of the rent and he pays the landlord.” I couldn’tmeet his eyes for this because I hated that I’d been so clueless, so I studied a button on his shirt. “Turns out, he didn’t and pocketed four months worth of rent instead.”
This time, I felt and heard his growl.
“Where’d he go?” he asked in a tone that sounded like he might go after him if pointed in the right direction.
I shrugged, my shoulder bumping his chest. “No idea.”
“No other family?”
I looked down at the braided rug beneath on the floor. “No.”
When I didn’t pick the conversation thread back up, he asked, “You work at a hotel?”
“Yeah. Front desk. Evening shift.” At this rate, he was going to get all the parts and pieces of my sad life one question at a time. I wanted to tell him in one go, like ripping a Band-Aid off. I pushed off his lap and he let me stand and pace. “I told you at lunch, my father bolted when I was little. My mother died when I was twelve from a drug overdose. While she’d been around before then, she’d been high all the time. Marcus was twenty at the time and became my guardian so I didn’t go into foster care. That was pretty much on paper only. I moved into his trailer with him. He left moneyfor me on the counter to get groceries. I got myself to school.”
“At twelve?”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t like I was a little kid or anything.”
He ground his teeth together as if trying not to say something. Then finally, he asked, “Where would you be if your brother didn’t fuck you over?”
“I’d be in the trailer barely making ends meet. The landlord is a jerk and likes to raise the rent. That doesn’t matter now, so this week, I’ve just been holding out for payday. Yours and at the hotel. My plan was to have enough to rent a room somewhere and then I’d be good.”
He shook his head. “New plan. You’re staying here now, cherry. With me.”
20
SHEP
“What? I can’t do that.”She looked appalled by the idea, which wasn’t what I was hoping for with my woman.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because–”
She cut herself off and for good reason. There was no reason.
I had a growing list of dickheads I wanted to track down. Rocky Trout for literally being an actual fucking pimp and keeping… eighty percent. To her father who bailed on her. To her brother whoreallybailed. And screwed her over. And made her fuckinghomeless. To her landlord for kicking her out when it was below freezing.
I knew that being a Wilder was special. Growing up, I’d never been alone. With eight siblings, there was always someone in your shit. Someone to hang with. Still was, now. It had been crazy. Noisy. No matter how different I felt from them, even living inside that chaos, I knew I had it lucky.
I knew someone had my back. All of them did.
That’s what a real fucking family did.
I imagined Ma bringing me home when I was two, sitting me down at the kitchen counter and fixing me a snack, just like she had Frankie. Willing to keep her forever if it made her life safe and happy.
But not everyone was as lucky as I was, being brought into the perfect family as a toddler. Frankie wasn’t.
To think that my girl was in my auto shop to seek shelter from a fucking storm because she had nowhere to go?
I was an asshole to take one second of my life for granted.
I really did want to be like the rest of the Wilders. Finding my person and making her my whole life.
Starting now.
