They said time healed all wounds. They lied. The only way she’d gotten past her abandonment issues was to create a life for herself where she was as safe as possible, full of people who weren’t going anywhere. The fact that Avery and Drew were the only people on that list was kind of sad, but she was okay with it. Once those two made her their own, she couldn’t have gotten away if she wanted to. And in that realization, there was a level of security and safety she hadn’t expected to find.
There was neither of those things with Ryan. He loved to travel and hated Wellingford—for what she was increasingly forced to admit were legitimate reasons—so he’d never be content to put down the roots she so desperately craved. He might not be the wild child she’d originally pegged him for, but that didn’t change that he was guaranteed to leave. Just like every other person in her life had left.
“Bri.”
She blinked and looked up. “Yes?”
Though he grinned, his blue eyes were kind. “Are you going to go, or just stare at the board?”
“Just considering my best move.” And admitting there was no way to come back from this. She put anOnext to an availableG. “Go. Three points.”
“Nice.” He was blatantly making an effort not to laugh, but there was no meanness there.
“Shut up.” She shook her head. “Your turn.”
His smile turned apologetic as he put down the last two tiles on his board. “Pin. Five points. And whatever you have on your board since I’m out.”
She cursed aloud as she added theZandXto his points—and again when she totaled them up. “You won by a landslide.”
“You put up a good fight.” He shrugged. “This was the only game we had in the house when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure Drew has the Scrabble dictionary memorized, because I couldn’t beat him until I was sixteen.”
It would have been nice to know thatbeforeshe’d agreed to this game, but he’d won fair and square. Bri sighed. “Best two out of three?”
“Oh, we can play again. Right after you fulfill your end of the bargain.”
Crap. She’d hoped he’d just let it go. From the way he sat back and propped his heels on the coffee table, he had no intention of allowing her to weasel her way out of this. Which was only fair, no matter how much she didn’t like it. Shehadagreed to the terms, after all.
She smoothed her hair back. “I grew up in foster care.”
The rest of the story stuck in her throat. God, this was so much harder than she’d expected. She wanted to yell at him and storm off, or throw his own past and reputation in his face again, or do anything in order to avoid sharing these painful memories. When she looked at Ryan, he merely watched her, no expression on his face. The lack of pity was what gave her the strength to go on. “When I was six, my parents died in a car crash. Couples want to adopt babies, not little girls who wake up on a nightly basis screaming from nightmares and crying for their dead parents.”
When it looked like he was going to say something, she held up a hand. “It was a very long time ago. I grew up and got past it.” Mostly. “I bounced through three homes in as many years, and I learned the hard way to keep my head down and my mouth closed.”
“The hard way?” Something dangerous glinted in his eyes.
Oh dear. “I wasn’t abused, if that’s what you’re asking.” She wanted to leave it at that, but Bri found herself elaborating. Ryan had shared part of his past with her, so maybe he would understand the struggles she’d lived through more than Avery did. “It was more…neglect. I was in the last home for nine months and the woman who ran it was more concerned with collecting her checks than with things such as making sure we had a healthy diet and appropriate clothes.” A fact made worse by the bigger kids who took her share of both.
“Christ.”
Bri toyed with the string of her sweats, wishing they were thicker, wishing for something more to cover herself with, as if by covering her body she’d cover up the emotional vulnerability she felt. “I survived. I grew up. I got scholarships. I went to college and made something of myself. And here I am now.”
“I’d say I’m sorry but, like you said, you survived and flourished.” Before she could entirely process his words, he moved on. “What did you do for fun?”
This, at least, was an easy answer. “The library. It was my everything—my fun, my escape, my refuge. I know that sounds silly—or maybe a little pathetic—but it was the truth. What better way to escape the realities of your life than to read about someone else’s? And the local library had what felt like a million books at the time. Countless worlds to be explored and people to meet.” Belatedly, she realized he’d found much the same escape growing up, if his story earlier was anything to go by.
“All in the safety of your own place.”
She shifted, not sure if she liked how close to the mark he’d hit. In her books, she was assured some kind of happy ending. If she didn’t like the way things were going, she could simply put the book down and walk away. End of story.
Life didn’t work the same way.
“Something like that.”
He started to ask another question, but must have caught the way she tensed up, because he changed tactics. “What’s your favorite part of your job?”
This, at least, she could talk about without worrying about emotional pitfalls. “All of it.”
He laughed. “How about you narrow it down a little?”