“You better believe it babe.”
“Sometimes it’s hard for me to expect good things to happen to me.”
I frown at her. “I noticed. You’re sometimes very negative or think the worst is going to happen.”
“I can’t help it.”
“What is it Amelia?” I pray to understand her more. “What made you so skittish?”
She drums her fingers against my chest lightly. “It’s the way I grew up.”
“With your ma?”
“No. With my parents. My mom and dad.”
“Oh, I didn’t think you knew your dad. You’ve never talked about him.”
“Because there’s nothing good to talk about,” she says softly and I can hear the hurt in her voice.
“Tell me everything.”
“If there were good days, I can’t remember,” she states. “They would have been clouded by the bad ones. When my dad got drunk. My mom and I tried our best to avoid him t
