Laura.
The house is quiet as I step into it. I can't remember the last time it was like this.
Usually, Maisie will be blasting off music from her room while preparing for another freelance stripping job, while I pop into the house.
I guess it's nice this way.
Clucking my tongue, I drop my bag on the couch and maneuver into the kitchen.
“What a mess,”
A string of curses vibrates from my lips, seeing the mess Maisie made on the small kitchen island.
A glob of cake icing spreads all over the Island, along with an unfinished pack of pizza and foil paper.
Nice one, Maisie.
That girl can be so careless.
But she's literally the only one closest to me. Well, except grandma.
With them around, I don't need to think about my life.
Growing up not knowing who my parents were real
