Page 59 of Mated To The King's Gamma
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LATER THAT AFTERNOON
Azalea and I are going over all the orphanage documents and photos, looking for Tandi’s daughter when Tandi hands me another stack. She lets out a breath, her shoulders dropping when that pile also doesn’t contain her daughter.
“How old would Paige be now?” Azalea asks her.
“Seven in February,” she answers with a sigh.
“Well, that rules these kids out,” I say looking down at a bunch of kids who are no older than three, I hand them to Azzy to look at, and she takes them and nods.
“We might have to do a DNA test. She could be different from how you remember?” Azalea suggests to her.
“I will recognize her,” Tandi says with confidence.
“How can you be so sure?” Azalea asks her.
“I’m her mother, and she has a scar. She has a scar on one side of her face. It required stitches; it went from her chin to her hairline. She fell off the stairs when she was three and landed on a glass table,” Tandi tells her as I rummage through yet another box removing the boys and those too young to be her daughter.
“Brock beat me good for that one, considering I wasn’t even watching her. The asshole had me entertaining one of his friends, and he was supposed to be watching her for me. He broke three of my ribs that night,” Tandi says. My stomach drops hearing that as she sifts through the photos.
“Well, I will start with this pile,” Azalea tells her, accepting the pile I pass her. Tandi spoke so easily of tragic circumstances as if desensitized to her own trauma; it saddens me how much she has suffered since I last saw her at the orphanage, back when she was Taylor. It makes me wonder if it will be that easy for me one day.
“This place gives me the creeps,” glancing around the huge basement. A shudder runs down my spine as the draft brushes over me. Rubbing my arms, I set the box back on the shelf. We spend hours down in the cellars combing through every child’s information when Tandi tosses the last one in the box. None of them were Paige. She gets up just as Damian walks in to check on us.
“Hun?” Damian asks as she walks toward the stairs. She pulls her arm away before he can grab her, runs off up the stairs, and turns, looking at Azalea and me. I chew my lip; upset we couldn’t find her.
“None of them were Paige,” Azalea tells him. Tandi was so excited when we came down here, only to leave heartbroken. Damian swallows, staring after her as she takes off.
“Go, Damian, take the afternoon off. I will speak to Kyson and let him know,” Azalea tells him, and he nods before thanking her and wandering off. I turn back to all the boxes we have pulled out and start restacking them. Once I am finished, I retrieve Tyson, head back to my room, and open the door to find Liam kneeling inside the walk-in closet by the mini fridge that Gannon has stored there.
“Liam?” I ask him.
“Oh, hey, Abs,” he says, leaning back and giving me a wave.
“Drink?” he asks, holding up a bottle of cordial. I nod, accepting it and opening the cap.
He watches as I take a sip, and Tyson wanders over to him, peering inside the fridge he is restocking. “I would have done that,” I tell him as Tyson reaches for a bottle of cordial.
“Don’t let him drink the red ones,” I tell Liam as he opens one of the bottles for him.
Liam glances at me. “It won’t hurt him,” he says, and I chuckle. I know cordial won’t hurt him.
“The red makes him hypo,” I tell him.
“Ah, right, sorry, I forgot he has sensory issues,” Liam tells him, retrieving the yellow bottles he was also stacking in the fridge.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” I ask him.
“I am just helping Clarice,” he tells me before standing and closing the door on the fridge.
“You know Clarice used to be a counselor of sorts before she came to work here,” Liam tells me.
“Okay!” I tell him, wondering what he is getting at.
“She used to deal with PTSD, Abbie. She helped me a lot, and I know she won’t turn you down if you want help,”
“Gannon is worried,” I breathe, knowing that is the only reason Liam would bring such a thing up.
