Hostile(30)

Damn this guy. I kill the engine and unbuckle my seatbelt, turning toward him. “Yeah. She likes you. She doesn’t talk much.”

“None of them do, right?”

I shake my head. “No. Trust is really hard in the system.”

He unbuckles and turns in his seat so he’s looking into my eyes. The moon is big tonight, so it’s fairly bright in the car. “Tell me about it?”

It’s a question. Not a demand or anything even remotely close. He’s curious. “I don’t like thinking about that time of my life.” He nods and doesn’t push me, which makes me want to tell him more. “But it’s hard. I know there have to be good people out there, that there are good foster parents. Hell, I was adopted by two of them, but . . .”

“Mostly bad?”

I swallow the bile-like feeling in my throat, my stomach squeezing painfully with the reminders. “Yeah.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, but for whatever reason, I want to tell him more. “My mom ran off early. But my dad . . .” I feel even sicker, thinking about him. “He acted like he wanted to try for a long time. He would fuck up, and I would end up in foster care. The first time was with this elderly couple who weren’t so bad. They were even kind of nice, but all I wanted was to be back home with my dad.”

Grayson listens in silence, paying close attention.

“And my dad would get me back by doing the bare minimum, but it was never long before he’d mess up again. Get arrested or fail a drug test. Lose his job and get us kicked out of our home, which was a shitty little apartment, but he still couldn’t get it together enough to keep it. And each home I’d be placed in was progressively worse.”

He reaches out, surprising me with his touch on my hand, but I quickly recover and allow his comfort.

“Some people were just neglectful. Some were strict, like they thought they could fix us.”

“Fix you?”

I nod, the taste of bile back. “Yeah. Like we were broken kids with no real structure before, so they’d treat us like slaves on a strict schedule. Giving us multiple chores a day. Correcting grammar and belittling us when they looked at our homework. It would have been fine, but it was done with disdain. They beat into us that the way we were raised was wrong. That we were bad.”

“That’s awful.” There’s no pity or judgment in his tone.

“And some liked to hit.”

“Jesus.”

I know this must be hard for him to hear, but he doesn’t flinch away. “Some worse. Not me or Bree, but we’ve heard those stories directly from kids like us. And Fletcher, he had a foster father who really liked to beat on him.”

“Fletcher?” He looks surprised by that, and I chuckle quickly because yeah, he’s a beast now. It’s hard to imagine him skinny with a black eye and broken nose.

“‘Keep them starving and weak, then beat them down,’ seemed to be a lot of their mottos.”

“Fucking assholes.”

I smile. “Yeah. And it’s why we don’t trust easily. We never had anyone watching our backs, even the ones who promised they would. Our social workers let us down. Our teachers. Our parents. Everyone who should have protected us didn’t.”

“They have to fix this. I mean, they have to know the system is flawed.”

“Oh, it’s a known thing. But I don’t think they’re all bad. It’s just an overworked, underpaid system. And the bad outweighs the good a lot.”

“Well, they need to do something about it.” He sounds so determined, and I try not to laugh because I don’t want him to think I’m mocking him.

“Yeah. But those kids are tough. They’ll be okay.”

His hand moves to my face, and he brushes his thumb over my cheek. “They will, I’m sure. They have you to care for them.”

“And you.” I grin, and he smiles back at me so brightly, it’s blinding.

“And me.” He leans in quickly, brushing his lips over mine in a hesitant way I have no patience for. I grip the back of his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss I’ve been craving all day. He’s not cautious now as he kisses me back, licking into my mouth and ratcheting up my need.

“Come to my place?” He’s breathless, but doesn’t pull away, nipping and biting on my bottom lip as he makes his request.

I turn my head to look up at my empty apartment. “We’re already at my place. Why don’t we just go inside?”

My eyes meet his again, our foreheads brushing against each other’s. “I thought maybe we could go swimming.”

It takes effort not to smile. “What about your parents?”

He pulls back now, a darkness moving over his features I’ve not seen from him, but it’s brief. “They’re in Europe.” I must make a face because he laughs. “Yeah. I know. Cliché as fuck. But they are. My dad has business, and my mom has a lover.”

I’m certain I’m gaping at him now. “Oh.”

He laughs again, a full-body laugh as he leans back into the seat of my car. “I know. It’s fucking ridiculous. My dad knows but couldn’t care less, even though my mom tries her best to make him jealous. God only knows how many mistresses my dad has abroad and here. But whatever. They won’t be back for a couple of weeks, at least.”