Bad for You (Sea Breeze #7)(30)

I watched as the beautiful woman talked about these kids who had needed a mother, and I was amazed at how much she loved them. They weren’t her kids, but she loved them as if they were. I hadn’t known that was possible. I often told myself that Mrs. Williams hated me because I wasn’t hers. Because she hadn’t given birth to me. But seeing Trisha tear up talking about these kids who she obviously adored made my heart squeeze but also made me feel empty inside.

“Wow,” I managed to say. I knew I needed to say something. She had just told me a lot in the ten minutes I’d been sitting here. “That’s a really great story. Those kids are very lucky to have someone like you and your husband in their lives. Many kids don’t get that.” I stopped talking when I realized how much I was about to give away.

“Can I get y’all something to drink?” a waitress asked, interrupting my slipup. I had never been so thankful to be asked what I wanted to drink in my life. I knew that whatever I told Trisha was going to get back to Krit. As much as I wanted a female friendship, we didn’t have that yet. I wasn’t ready to trust her with my story.

“Diet Coke,” Trisha told her. “And some pickles, please. Extra ranch.”

“Sweet tea,” I replied.

The waitress turned and left, and Trisha looked back at me. “The fried pickles are amazing. You’ll love them. Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about you. All I know is you moved here for school, and my brother has taken a keen interest in you. Which never happens by the way, so you have me completely fascinated.”

I didn’t have much I could tell her about me. And I needed to clarify my relationship with her brother before she got it any more confused in her head, keeping in mind she’d repeat this conversation to Krit. I tucked some hair behind my ear as I gathered my thoughts.

“Well, I grew up in a small town in South Carolina. Extremely small. We had two traffic lights in town, if that tells you just how small. My mother died during childbirth. There were complications. She didn’t have any parents or other living family. She was an orphan and was raised in the system since she was ten. The church she attended was the largest church in town.” I paused, because honestly I didn’t know why Pastor Williams and Mrs. Williams had taken me in. They hadn’t wanted me. That much was obvious. They never said anything even remotely as touching as what Trisha had said about her kids. And they also never had kids of their own. I wasn’t sure if that was because they couldn’t or because Mrs. Williams wasn’t the motherly type.

“Um, and well, I don’t know why exactly, but the pastor at the church my mother attended and his wife took me home with them. I wasn’t adopted or anything, but they kept me and raised me.” I wasn’t going to give her any more details about that part of my life. The truth hurt, and hiding it was impossible. I was too expressive. “I wanted to go somewhere different for college and be close to the water. I hadn’t grown up near water. Pastor Williams is friends with Pastor Keenan, so he lined up a job for me here with him, and I enrolled at the local college. So that’s it,” I said, happy with my explanation and hoping she didn’t dig into it anymore.

The waitress set drinks and small round deep-fried slices of pickles down in front of us. I had never had deep-fried pickles before, and I wasn’t sure if I liked the idea of them. It seemed wrong.

“Do y’all know what you wanna eat?” the waitress asked.

I glanced down at the menu and realized I hadn’t even looked at it. “What’s good?” I asked Trisha.

“Do you eat tuna?” she asked.

I nodded. I had eaten a lot of canned tuna growing up, and I wasn’t a fan, exactly, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I liked it well enough. I’d just had too much. She gave me a reassuring smile and turned back to the waitress. “Two seared tuna paninis please. With the chips,” she said, then turned back to me. “Trust me.” She winked.

I had no idea what seared tuna was because they didn’t have that in a can. I nodded and returned Trisha’s smile. She was hard not to smile at. “Okay,” I replied.

Once the waitress walked away, Trisha turned her eyes back on me. “There are a few things that seem odd about your story, but I have the feeling you’re telling me what you feel safe telling me right now. I respect that, so I’m not going to dig. Now, tell me about you and Krit.”

She was seriously blunt. It was as scary as it was refreshing. You didn’t have to wonder what she was thinking, that was for sure. She would just tell you.

“Krit is my friend . . . ,” I began. “He has been very kind and thoughtful from day one. He makes me laugh, and he always seems to know when I need to laugh. He’s special. I don’t imagine there are many guys like him out there. I don’t have much—well, any experience really—with guys, but from what I can see, Krit isn’t like most of them. He has a really big heart, and he doesn’t seem to realize how special he is. Which makes him even more special.” I was rambling, and from the wide-eyed look on Trisha’s face, I was not doing a good job of hiding my feelings for her brother.

“Special,” she repeated slowly, as if she needed to let that word sink in. My face grew hot, and I knew my cheeks were flaming. Dang it, I sucked at this.

“I don’t think I can remember a time in my life when anyone ever called my brother special and meant it the way you just did.” The pleased look on her face made me calm down a little. Maybe she did get what I had been trying to say. He was a good friend.