Page 79 of The Fixer

If he were a professional touring rocker, she would have signed up for groupie duty and followed him around the world just to bask in the shadow of his sunny smile.

And lucky her, the man that was making stars dance in her eyes was tracing tiny circles on her hand, sending tingles rippling outward like a stone thrown into a pond. Who knew such a simple touch could turn the blood coursing through her veins into a SodaStream?

Yet she was letting the past intrude on this fairy tale she was currently immersed in. She hated the self-pity she’d indulged in since she’d rolled into Fall River. In Chicago, those doors remained firmly locked at all times. All these years, she’d managed to bottle up the demons, but now it was as though someone had ripped off the cap and set them free to wreak havoc in her world. And she had absolutely no idea how to stuff the monsters back into their container.

She sat on her free hand, digging her fingers into the leather seat beneath her, trying to quell the beer suds threatening to rise up.

“You’d better settle in,” she warned her unwitting audience of one. “I want you to know I wouldn’t be doing this without a barrel of beer in my belly.”

“Maybe so, maybe not. Either way, if you decide you’ve shared enough, just tell me and that’ll be it. I won’t push you to keep going.”

Oh hell’s bells! There was no backing out now. If she did bail on the story, she’d basically be telling Charlie shedidn’ttrust him, and that would have been an out-and-out lie.

He watched her carefully—not as if he expected her to fly off the handle at any moment, but like he was preparing himself to catch her if she did. As if he would do his utmost to be sure she didn’t splat. As if he wanted to protect her. He was her safety net. More than that, he was proving to be her lifeline to Fall River. As long as he acted as a buttress, she was safe. Which was such an odd feeling, after her first impressions and knowing him for only a short time …especiallyafter being a woman alone on her island for a lifetime.

It was probably the beer messing with her mind. She never drank the stuff, and her system didn’t know what to do with it.

That had to be it.

Charlie leaned against the seat, looking impossibly laid-back in the cramped space.

Here goes.“Way back when, our family was made up of my mom, my dad, my older sister, and me. We were a typical family—not too rich, not too poor, went on picnics, watched TV—until my dad died. I was four at the time, so my memories of him are few and fuzzy, but those I do have are … nice. He was warm and kind and had this smile that made me shine inside. He used to call me his little princess.”

The forgotten memory brought her to an abrupt halt. Her mouth dropped open. “I didn’t remember the nickname until just now.”

“I guess it fits,” Charlie remarked with a wry smile.

She gathered her wits. “I was closer to him than I was to my mother. I don’t recall any terms of endearment from her or any warmth at all. She saved it for my sister. It was like each of us girls had her own assigned parent, you know? And when my dad died, I felt as though I’d lost the only parent I had. I was orphaned. His death threw my world into a tailspin.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I wasn’t the easiest kid.” She let out a mirthless chuckle. “Betthat’sa surprise, huh?”

“No, can’t say it is.” His smile softened, and his eyes overflowed with compassion.

“I had—rather, Idohave ADHD. Medical knowledge around the disorder was in its infancy, and I wasn’t diagnosed. Lots of kids weren’t. Nevertheless, my dad’s death amped up my problem behavior. I turned into a wild child, or so I’m told. I couldn’t stay put; I couldn’t focus. A hurricane of thoughts and ideas constantly swirled in my head, and it was exhausting. Debilitating. It was as if every thought in the world bombarded me at the same time, and I had no ability to filter out what was important versus the irrelevant stuff. Itallcarried the same weight, and I couldn’t control the influx.

“It still happens, but I’ve gotten better at managing the flow. And there are meds—Adderall, specifically—but I hate taking it. Long story short, my mother couldn’t handle my behavior. Couldn’t handleme.Her parenting style and my kid style did not mesh. Many fights, lots of tears. It compounded the stress during a time when we were near a breaking point. My mother used to tell me she hated me, and I’m pretty sure I hated her too.”

She covered her eyes for a beat. “God, what an awful thing to admit!”

“We don’t have to keep going.” Charlie’s warm voice wrapped around her heart, buffering it.

Sitting here in the dimness of the car’s back seat with him, with his tiny caresses on her hand and his soothing voice, she dug down and unearthed the courage to yank off the layers of Band-Aids she’d slapped over the wound since childhood. And now that she’d thrown open the gate, the story was stacking on itself like huge blocks pushing to tumble out.

She pulled in a breath. Charlie grasped her hand in his, and his thumb continued to stroke her skin. Such a light, intimate touch that calmed her more than she would have believed possible.

He gave a little shrug of his solid, broad shoulder. “Kids naturally have more energy than adults. It doesn’t sound that different from our household, except we had two parents. By the time I came along, they had their A-game down. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but there were two of them to split the load.”

The little squeeze he gave her hand encouraged her to continue. “My mother got into some woo-woo stuff—I’m sure she was looking for answers—and decided to move to Colorado after listening to some shaman tell her she would ‘find’ herself here and that her world would be in harmony once more. So she packed us up, and we left our home, our friends, and everything we knew behind in Nebraska. On our way to Fall River, she deposited me on my aunt and uncle’s doorstep without a word of warning and without an iota of emotion. When I asked her why, she said they were better equipped to raise me. But there was one tiny detail she overlooked: they already had three kids. I became this add-on, a burden no one wanted who got in the way. No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t fit.”

“No warning at all?”

Joy let out a bitter laugh. “Nope. And I’ll never forget that night. I was confused about why she left Mary and our packed car at the curb and walked me up to their house. I was just a little kid. I kept asking questions—I’m sure I annoyed the hell out of her—and she told me to shush, that everything was going to work out. Despite our clashes, I trusted her—she was my mother—so I obeyed. What else could I have done?

“We stood on the front stoop, and she rang the doorbell. My uncle opened the door, took my bag, and led me inside. Mom didn’t come in. No explanation, no good-bye, no ‘I love you.’ One last awkward hug in the doorway, and she was off and running. As my uncle brought me into the living room, my aunt scowled and warned me that I’d better not act out while I lived under their roof. She called me a little urchin—that became her pet name for me. Boom. Welcome to your new life, Joy.”

Something tickled her face, and when she brushed at it, she realized tears were trailing down her cheeks.

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