Page 88 of Guardian Daddy

It wasn’t even in her to resist him as she held out her hands for him to wipe.

“Let’s get that blanket back on you. You’re cold. Is there a reason you’re always so cold?”

“I’ve always felt the cold. I’ve seen a few doctors, but they all tell me it’s just that I have a higher sensitivity to it and that my low body weight contributes to that sensitivity.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Just keep my environment warm.”

“And make sure that you don’t lose any weight,” he said firmly.

“My aunt and uncle didn’t keep their house that warm. Even in winter. I used to freeze. I’d often end up crawling into Rhodes’ bed with him. They hated that. Called it unnatural. When Rhodes got a job, the first things he bought were extra blankets for me and some warmer clothing.”

“Those assholes.”

“They just thought I was difficult. That I was asking too much.”

“Being warm was asking too much?” he queried.

“I’ve never understood why they complained about buying me things. As a child, I thought I was costing them money, but when I grew older, I realized that they received money from the trust fund my parents had left for me and Rhodes. When Rhodes and I turned eighteen, we went to our family lawyer and told him everything. Rhodes had saved most of the money he’d earned with his part-time job to pay the lawyer’s fee. The lawyer arranged for us to access the trust fund early and we moved out.”

“Do your aunt and uncle have anything to do with why you don’t like being called a brat?”

“They used to call me that all the time. And the irony is that their son, James, was the biggest brat of all. Rhodes used to hate when they called me that. When he was bigger, he started mouthing back. My uncle used to grow so red in the face . . . I thought he’d have a heart attack. But once Rhodes was bigger than him, there wasn’t much he could do anymore. It wasn’t like he could push Rhodes around. Or threaten to send him away. He liked the money he got for having us too much.”

“Push him around? He was physical with you both?”

Ethan’s voice had grown soft and he was very still. She studied him for a moment, trying to understand the change in him. “Are you angry?”

“No, baby. I’m fucking furious. Please tell me he didn’t touch you.”

She shrugged. “He never hit us. But he would manhandle us. Grab our arm and drag us around. Shove us to get us where he wanted us. Lock us in our rooms.”

“Please tell me that bastard is still alive.” His hands were clenched into fists.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I want to make his life a misery.”

“Pretty sure living with my aunt is misery enough. In a way, she was worse. Always yelling at me.” She shuddered. “I don’t handle loud noises well. Especially people yelling at me. Then I tend to retreat into myself.”

“I understand that. I want the name of your aunt and uncle.”

Hmm.

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Cate,” he warned. “I can get those names myself.”

“I don’t want anything to do with them,” she told him. “And I don’t want you to do anything to them. You might get into trouble.”

To her surprise, rather than get upset at her edict, he smiled.

“Worried about me, baby?”

“That you’ll end up in jail? Yes.”

“Don’t be. I can be sneaky enough that they’ll never know I’m coming.”

---