Someone who will teach her every fucking thing she needs to know.
"You... you ready, Brendon?" She looks up at me with those soft green eyes.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This isn't about my cock.
Or my hands or lips or my tongue.
Kaylee is here because her parents bailed on her. Because her grandma is sick. Because she needs someone to protect her.
That's what I signed up for.
There's no way I'm taking advantage of that trust.
Yeah, this isn't how I imagined my life when I was her age. That guy would kill somebody if he knew he was going to grow up to get his furniture at Ikea.
And, fuck, if he had any idea how much pop-rock he'd listen to on the way—
I'm not proud of what a judgmental shit I used to be. But I did stand for something. Well, against something. Against all the bullshit my parents jammed down my throat.
Now that I am a parent—legally, at least—I get it.
It's hard taking care of someone. Wanting what's best for them. Trying to figure out where to draw the line.
That doesn't excuse my mom's constant reminders that I'd never be good enough.
But it does explain them.
I promised myself Emma would never go through any of the shit I did. That she'd never hear that who she was or what she wanted was wrong. But fuck, it's hard. She tests my resolve all the time.
Even Kaylee pushes my resolve.
"Brendon? You okay?" Her voice is soft. Caring.
"Yeah." I push myself to my feet.
She stares at my empty coffee mug. "You're going to leave that there?"
I nod.
"I'm fine with that." She slides her purse onto her shoulder. The grey one with the gorilla key chain. "Really, I am."
"Of course."
She tries and fails to pry her eyes away. "Really?"
I chuckle. "Not that it bothers you."
"You're doing it on purpose."
"Why would I do that?"
"Cruelty." She grabs the mug, brings it to the sink, shoots me a you win look. "Why else?"
She's adorable flustered.
Too adorable.