“How did you end up with Maeve?” I pulled out a pair of jeans. Yeah, the size was off, but since they were skinny jeans, they might still work out…
He shook his head. “Maeve took me in after…” He paused, choosing his words. “After things didn’t work out with my last place.”
That was where I should have left it, but asking Mickey questions was better than him asking me any. “You’ve been in foster care before?”
“No. It’s a little complicated.” He shrugged. “I lived with a friend, but I didn’t like the way her family treated her.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Things didn’t end well.”
“Oh.” I opened my mouth to ask another question, but when I saw the look on his face—the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes—I shut it again. There was more buried there, and I knew better than to dig.
“So,” he said, burrowing deeper into my bed. “What’s your story?”
I flinched, catching an intense look before he flicked his eyes up to the ceiling.
“Nothing major,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “My dad almost killed me and my brother, and—” A thick lump of nothing got stuck in my throat before I pushed it down. “And here I am—living the life.” There was a long pause—so long I wondered if Mickey was a narcoleptic, because he’d shut his eyes and his breathing deepened.
“What’s his name?” Mickey’s voice almost made me jump.
“Huh?”
“Your…dad.” His face puckered on the word ‘dad’ as if it was a sour ball. “What’s his name?”
“Why?”
Mickey opened his eyes again, looking at me with such wide-eyed innocence it had to be fake.
He shrugged. “Curious. Maybe I’m compiling a list of what not to name kids.You know, just in case names are predictive of being a jerk.”
I smiled. “Then don’t name your kid Cory.”
“Cory?”
“Yep. Cory James, attorney at law.”
“A lawyer for a dad. How was that?”
“As long as he stayed sober, it wasn’t so bad,” I said, stuffing a couple pairs of white socks into the top drawer before shutting it harder than I intended.
“He’s not really my family, though.”
Mickey’s eyes widened. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you think your dad’s not your real dad?”
I chuckled. “I wish he wasn’t, but I look too much like him for that to be true. No, I just meant that if I’d had my way, I’d have moved out with my brother a year ago and been happy to never see my dad again. My brother’s the only real family I have.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you leave?”
“Couldn’t get emancipated,” I said. “My dad’s an attorney, so chances were slim a judge would’ve sided with me. I don’t even know why Dad wanted me around. Maybe he just wanted someone close by that he hated more than himself.”
“Oh. That…sucks.”
I shrugged. I’d accepted the fact my dad hated me a long time ago. And once I realized it was mostly because I reminded him too much of my mom—the only woman smart enough to leave him before he was through making her life a living hell—it was a little easier to swallow. Less personal, somehow. But my mom leaving us with him…that had to be all because of my dad. Caleb thought she’d straight-up abandoned us, but I knew, deep down, that she’d loved us. Maybe she just couldn’t take us with her. I mean, Dad was a high-powered attorney with connections. All he had to do was make her look bad, and as a prosecutor, he had that formula down to a science.
I stared down at the backpack, picking at a stray thread.
“I’d planned on leaving my dad anyway, but Caleb didn’t think his college roommates would let me crash at their place. Caleb wanted me to hold out a little longer so he could line up something else, but things went sideways before that happened,” I said, shaking my head. Caleb should have known better—he did know better. But even if things were getting worse at home, I could’ve held my temper. If I just hadn’t reacted—like I always did—things could have worked out like he’d promised.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” I said, getting back to unpacking the few odds and ends left in the bag.
Maeve popped her head through the doorway.
“What’s going on in here?” she asked.
It took me a moment to notice the fistful of panties in my hands and stuff them behind my back. Not that Mickey catching an eyeful of panties embarrassed me—I’d tried to evict the guy with tampons, after all. But prim and proper Maeve catching me with a handful of underwear in front of her foster son? Now that was awkward.
“We were just getting to know each other,” Mickey said.
“Mickey,” Maeve said, her eyes narrowed. “You know the rules.”
Mickey smiled his cheesy grin again, shrugging his shoulders. “Caught.” He winked at me like I was in on some sort of conspiracy. “I’m not supposed to be in your room…ever!” he stage-whispered. “She’s afraid we’d get too close, if you know what I mean.”
I almost choked on my spit.
“Mickey, I’m serious,” said Maeve, her face stern.
“Oh, come on.” He stretched out his body into an X before plopping his arms and legs down once more. “She’s like family.” He turned toward me, an impish smile on his lips. “Let’s ask Kella here. Kella, does this fine specimen of male studliness tempt you at all?” He did that eyebrow wiggle once more, and I had to fight to hold back a laugh.
“Um, no.”
“See?” he said, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
“Mickey,” she warned, “that’s not what I—”
“Honestly, nothing’s gonna happen.” There was an odd note in his voice—something that sounded a bit too serious. Maeve pursed her lips before Mickey added, “And anyway, I’m saving my charms for all the girls I’m not related to. Or smell.” He glanced at me. “Really, really badly. You ought to do
