Page 15 of Unfulfilled Promises
I needed her to relax, so I reached into the cargo pocket of my black pants and pulled out a joint. Handing it to her, I slid a lighter across the small table and waited for her to decide. After a moment, she picked up the lighter and lit the tip of the joint before inhaling deeply. Her brother wasn’t much of a smoker, but James and Devlin used to be, so I knew they couldn’t get too pissed about this.
But I was sure they would anyway.
She offered the joint to me, and I took a shallow toke before handing it back to her. With more than half of it left, she put it out and blew the smoke into the air as she looked at me.
“How old were you when you and your brother connected?” I started, and she smiled as she answered.
“I was a little over eight when I met James, and it was a few weeks later when I met Rhys.”
“And when was the last time you saw your mother?” I questioned, casting a wide net.
“The day I was put into foster care,” she answered, but when she crossed her arms over her chest and diverted her gaze, I knew she was keeping something secret.
“Do you trust me, Regan?” I asked, and she gave me a deep sigh before she answered.
“I do, which is strange for me.”
I smiled at her admission and wanted to keep moving forward. “Then why aren’t you being fully honest with me?”
Her eyes grew wide, and she sat up in her seat before clearing her throat. Cutting her eyes to the house and back to me, she lowered her voice and finally answered. “I was put into the system when I was around two, and when my mom got out of prison, she took custody of me. I was around four or five when that happened.”
I leaned closer to her. “How long were you with her?”
“I was almost eight when I went back into the system,” she answered.
Brushing a piece of hair from her forehead, she leaned into my touch. It was good that she was receptive to my touch, because I wasn’t going to stop with the little touches until she told me to.
“Will you do me a favor?” I started, and she nodded, so I continued. “Will you close your eyes for me?” Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, so I explained, “I learned a technique to help retrieve memories without having to relive the moment. Would you let me try that with you?”
She nodded and closed her eyes, showing her trust in me. I wanted to puff out my chest and yell that Regan was my woman, but she wasn’t. Not yet anyway.
“I want you to tell me about the first time you met James.”
For the next few minutes, I stroked the top of her hand as she relaxed into the chair and described her first meeting with the asshole I called ‘preppy’ in my mind. When she was finished with that story, I asked her something personal.
“How old were you when you had your first boyfriend?”
The blush on her face was cute as she responded, “Eighteen.”
“Where did you live with your mom before she disappeared?”
“Some shithole in Tennessee.”
“Which do you prefer, cats or dogs?”
“Both for different reasons—dogs for cuddles, cats for independence.”
Needing to push her a little, I circled back. “Who lived with you in the house in Tennessee?”
“Me, Momma, and a bunch of her friends,” Regan responded, and her forehead drew down as her fists clenched until her knuckles were white.
“What were you studying in college when you first started?” I asked.
“Computer science,” she replied.
I was keeping her mind moving, not focusing on any one period of time or a single person. It was a technique we’d learned when questioning prisoners and people we needed information from. I wasn’t using the pain associated with the questions on Regan, but I kept shifting my direction to keep her off guard.
Her eyes remained closed as I asked another question. “When you lived with your mom and her friends, was there anyone your age who you could play with?”
