Page 77 of The Woman with the Wallet

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something about your past?”

“Well, you can ask,” she said with a shrug.

“I know about your time on the streets alone and then meeting Megs. But… you’ve never talked about before then.”

“There’s not much to tell. I was raised by a single mom. My dad… is a big question mark.”

“What happened with your mom that had you on the streets, though?”

To that, she sucked in a deep breath through her nose before sighing it out.

“My fifth ‘step-dad’ happened,” Max admitted. “I was fourteen. He was a fucking pervert.”

“Jesus.”

“Nothing happened. Much,” she clarified. “But when I went to my mom about what did, she was fucking enraged.”

“As she should be.”

“At me,” Max clarified. “She went on and on about how I was ‘leading him on’ by walking around in shorts and tank tops. That I was always flirting with him. I was fourteen. I didn’t know how to flirt,” she said, jaw going tight. “Anyway, she kicked me out.”

“She kicked you out?”

“Yep. She said she couldn’t have me around competing for her guy’s attention. Like I wanted that scumbag’s attention. But, honestly, I was okay with leaving. Living with my mother wassomehow more unstable than being on the streets. Different guy every week. Not one of them even halfway decent. Between them, we were practically homeless anyway.”

“Have you ever seen her since?”

“Sad thing is, I walked right past her in a bodega once. She didn’t even recognize me. But she was hanging on the arm of some other dirtbag by then.”

“Life hasn’t given you a lot of breaks, huh?” I asked, walking over toward her. But when I reached for her, she turned away, pretending she didn’t notice the offer of comfort.

“I’ve done alright,” she said with a shrug.

“You’ve done more than alright,” I told her, walking up behind her to wrap my arms around her waist before she could try to move away again. My head went down on her shoulder, leaning in to press a kiss to her neck.

It took a minute, but she slowly melted into me, turning her head to rest it against mine, letting her eyes slide closed.

Suddenly, I wanted to share all my shit with her.

Me, my house, my bed, my security, my protection.

But just as much: my family, their love, their support. All the shit she’d never had before.

“You about ready to go back to bed?” I asked, feeling the way a little shiver of anticipation moved through her.

“Okay,” she agreed, already getting all soft and sweet on me.

We passed Chuck’s room, hearing loud snoring.

“I wonder if he’s ever had an overnight guest to tell him that he should maybe get tested for sleep apnea,” Max said as Chuck made a choking sound before going back to snoring.

“Looks like you know what the breakfast conversation will be.”

“Are you going to let him cook that too?” she asked.

“The sauce was pretty good,” I said, closing and locking my bedroom door, not trusting Chuck not to wander in like a kidwho had a nightmare. “He might do something good with an omelet. Or pancakes.”

---