Page 41 of Let Me Love You

Everleigh crawls off the bed and moves the sheets back before scooting beneath them. After I turn off the light, I slide in next to her.

“Stay on your side,” I tease.

“Yeah, sure.” She snorts. Her toes press against my leg, and the feel of her touch makes me realize how big of a fucking mistake this is. “You’re like a warm pillow.”

I snicker. “And your feet are freezing.”

She inches closer, wrapping her hands around my arm and squeezing while sliding her other foot under me. “Good thing I have my own personal heater.”

Yep, I’m so fucking fucked.

It’s silent for a few minutes until Everleigh speaks up. “So…you don’t have to answer this, but what was it like for you and Annie growing up? From what you’ve told me, it sounds similar to Tyler’s and my childhood.”

Her soft and sincere voice makes me want to share everything. Everleigh would probably understand more than most people and without judgment. Yet I can’t tell her the tragic details, mostly because I’ve blocked them out.

Truthfully, it’s embarrassing. Even though I couldn’t control where we lived or our situation, when people hear about it, things become awkward. They pity me, I hate it, and the silent tension takes over. Plus, I don’t want Everleigh to know that Annie and I went hungry for years. We never had new clothes. We stole to survive and denied it when asked. I instructed Annie to never tell an adult because if CPS showed up, they’d separate us. We needed each other, and I couldn’t risk us being split apart and put into different foster homes. Regardless of our shitty home life, I still loved our mother. When she was sober and clean, at least.

“I don’t have a lot of happy memories,” I say. “Annie’s the only reason I stayed. Thought about running away dozens of times, but I couldn’t leave her. Living on the streets was no problem for me, but she wouldn’t have survived. Not without getting assaulted, at least. So I stayed to protect her. Our mom overdosed during Annie’s senior year and never got to see her graduate.”

That thought sends a fire of anger through me. Even though our mom was a hot mess on her best days, it was important to Annie. I barely got my diploma, but Annie and Mom were still there to cheer me on as I crossed the stage.

“I can tell you’re the protective type. Annie’s lucky to have a brother like you. Tyler basically raised me too, but after high school, he joined the military, and I moved in with our grandparents.”

“Tyler told me about that. I’m glad you were in a safe place after he left.”

She sighs briefly, her chest rising and falling. “I hate that she lives in the same town but never puts in any effort to see us. She hasn’t met Scarlett, didn’t send a wedding or baby gift to Tyler and Gemma, and doesn’t check on me. It’s almost worse that she’s alive and chooses not to be involved. It’d probably hurt less if she was dead.”

It’s obvious how bothered she is by it. After I lost Mom, I didn’t feel any void. She was hardly present, but I sympathize with wanting to have a parent in your life.

“What ’bout your dad?” she asks.

“He left before Annie was born. I was only two. Don’t know him, don’t remember him.”

“Guess we have a lot more in common than I thought.” She tilts her head. With our faces almost touching, I could easily press my lips to hers.

“Is that why you have daddy issues?” I tease to lighten the mood.

“Yep. Same reason you probably have mommy issues,” she throws back.

I chuckle because she’s not wrong. I have a whole laundry list of issues.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“I know why you went to prison. You’re not the brooding badass you try to portray,” she says.

“Considering you allowed a complete stranger—who’s an ex-con—to move in with you, I figured you did. That or you’re textbook crazy.”

“That’s possible too. But even before I knew, it wouldn’t have mattered. You’re Tyler’s friend, and he trusts you. That’s all it took for me to know I wouldn’t regret helping you. And so far…” She smiles. “I don’t.”

I blow out a breath of laughter. “Glad to hear that, I guess.”

“If I’m being honest…once I heard you had tats and a tragic past, I was sold.” She flashes a cocky smirk, and I shake my head. “What’s your type?”

My type? Brown hair, blue eyes, smart-mouthed and beautiful on the inside and out. One-hundred percent Everleigh.

“That sounds like a trick question I should avoid answering.”

She snorts. “If I had to guess, it’s someone who’s stable, secure, and successful. The three S’s.”