Page 11 of Her Guilty Protector
“Like I said, I was big for my age. I grew up on the streets. She had a drinking and drug habit she couldn’t shake which caused trouble occasionally.
“The restaurant owner only came a couple times. He and his wife were separated for a few months but got back together. Mom was clean then, but she fell off the wagon soon after.
“That was her routine. She’d get clean for about six months, work until she got a little ahead and then she’d fall off again. The diner owner tried to help her, but no one really could. He kept me on even when he had to let her go. That at least kept our rent paid. He was a decent guy.
“She died in a drunken car accident just before I turned eighteen. He helped me get her a pauper’s funeral from the state and kept me out of social services for the six months till my birthday by letting me live in the room above the diner. He vouched for me when I joined the military.”
“What about grandparents?”
“Never knew them. Mom went to a house party when she was sixteen that was sponsored by her church. There was drinking and drugs. She didn’t remember much about the party, but two months later she was pregnant. When she tried to tell her parents about the party and waking up in a bed with no clothes, they disowned her for lying about the good church people. She ended up in a women’s shelter until I was born.”
“How very compassionately religious of them.”
He looks up at me and grins.
“Did you keep in touch with the diner owner?”
“Naw. He retired, sold the business. He and his wife reconciled and moved to Florida. The military gave me a steady purpose. Team became family. I was luckier than a lot of people I’ve known.”
Luck is subjective. His youth sounds horrible to me, and I’m sure he glossed over a lot. I always had a loving family I could depend on. A brother who was always there for me.
And then his best friend, who watched out for me, like he tried to for his mother.
Could he ever see me as a woman? More than just someone else to watch over? Weighed down by my own hopes and dreams and how my injuries limit me, I’m suddenly exhausted.
“I’m going to get ready for bed. Stay up as long as you like.”
“Is there anything you need?”
Just for you to love me, like I love you.
“No, I’m good.”
CHAPTER 7
Hawke
She’s lying. Something is wrong. What have I missed? Is she hurting? Or just afraid? Did the truth of my past make her wary of me?
I gave her the sanitized version. The reality of my youth was more violent and desperate than I’d ever share with her. I survived and the skills I learned on the streets and in the alleys, kept my men safe in battle.
She needs to know I won’t let anything happen to her again. I’ve set a few of my personal style of traps in the woods in case someone gets too close, then sent the coordinates to the office for the safety of our back-up.
Allen Riven has used up all his chances. I warned him to stay away. He made his choice. When this is over, she won’t have to look over her shoulder again.
And she won’t need me anymore. But I’ll keep an eye on her. I’ll still be close if she needs me.
I wish... I wish I was a better man. A man who deserved her. A younger man. Our almost fifteen-year age difference may not seem like much now, but it will in another fifteen.
She comes out of the bathroom wearing an oversize T-shirt and men’s boxers, carrying a hairbrush.
Standing I move the foot stool closer to the fire. “Sit here and I’ll help brush out your hair.”
“You don’t?—”
“It’s not a problem. With your shoulder you shouldn’t be doing it anyway. How the hell did you even wash it?”
She grimaces. “I’m not sure how clean it is, but it smells better.”
