Brant
A slow, unreadable look formed on my face, like I was trying to decide whether to speak or stay locked in my thoughts. “You want me to leave?” I asked.
She walked over and wrapped her arms around my waist. “No, I want you to stay here with me. But you’re so lucky, you know? Your family worries about you.”
She pulled back slightly and continued.
“This house used to be my mom’s. When she died, she left it in my brother’s care—he was supposed to look after me. He never did. Always chasing drugs and women. In the end, he sold the house and left me homeless.”
“Son of a motherfucker,” I spat, the words falling out before I even knew it. If he were here—or if I ever found that bastard—I’d destroy him for what he did to the precious soul staring up at me with those beautiful, doll-like
