“I absolutely don’t believe that.” I took a moment to study the long tail feathers of a phoenix snaking along the length of her forearm, clusters of flowers shadowing it. Tattoos weren’t my forte, but these appeared to be fine quality. She wore them well on her soft, pale skin and it was a shame she hid them. “I’m curious why you’ve kept them so thoroughly covered all this time.”
She let her sleeve fall down to her wrist. “I suppose I have a little boomer in me. I can hear my father’s voice in my head, telling me tattoos aren’t professional. And since I didn’t know how you’d feel about them—though I admit I assumed you wouldn’t be a fan—I decided the safer option was covering them up.”
“I’m not a fan of all tattoos, but the ones I’ve seen on you are really nice.”
A flush rose from her chest, traveling to the apples of her cheeks. She’d been blushing like that for me from the beginning. The smallest compliment, and her blood heated.
“Well, thank you. I like them too.”
“Is your dad still living?”
Her head jerked back, color draining from her face in an instant. Interesting. “Why do you ask?”
“You mentioned him, and I was curious if he knew how you were living in that house. If you were my daughter, I would do everything in my power to take you out of that situation.”
She shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the bottom of her sweats and adjusting the straps of her tank.
“My parents aren’t a part of my life, so no, he didn’t know.”
“And Josephine’s father? Did he know?”
That question brought on a sigh that could have taken out a small country with its weight. We’d been avoiding the topic of her house all week. She hadn’t been ready to talk about it, so I’d given her time. The state I’d found her in had been so fragile I wouldn’t have dreamed of pushing her.
But she’d slowly relaxed over the days she and Jo had been here. The change in her had been evident. Each day that passed, her skin became brighter, her eyes clearer, and her smiles came easier. I didn’t take any credit for it besides providing her with shelter. It had to be getting out of that wreckage that had given her room to breathe.
“I don’t know if he did. I suppose he must have had an inkling since it’s his fault I am where I am.” She rubbed her lips together. “I met Liam while he was volunteering to build houses in Mexico. I was the project coordinator. Then we traveled around, volunteering, working, and, yeah, partying. We ended up in Costa Rica for a while, and I loved it there. Have you been?”
“I haven’t. Unfortunately, my travel has been confined to work lately.”
“Mine too.” She shot me a weak little grin. “Anyway, Liam got this idea for us to flip a house together. One of the volunteers we befriended was from Denver, and she gave us tips on neighborhoods to buy in. After that, it was a whirlwind. Liam became obsessed with the idea, wouldn’t let it drop, so we moved, bought the house, and—”
“Where’d you get the money?” Buying a house wasn’t cheap, and she couldn’t have made much working for a nonprofit.
“Liam came from poverty, and he was broke from traveling and volunteering, but I had a small-ish trust fund. We put a chunk down and took out a loan for the rest.”
I was beginning to understand what had happened, but I needed her to say it before I reacted.
“So you bought a flip property.” I raised my eyebrows. “Who did the work? Because I think you should tell them to go back to school if that’s the best they can do.”
She sucked in a jagged breath. “It’s a bit of a story.”
“I have the time. Tell me.”
Without further preamble, Catherine launched into a tale that made my jaw tighten and fists clench. This dick, her purported friend, had gotten her to sink her savings into a house far too expensive to make sense as an investment. Had he done his own research instead of listening to some random person volunteering with them, he would have known that.
On top of the ill-advised investment, the ex had hired shoddy people to do the work, and when Catherine couldn’t pay, they’d upped their shoddiness and stripped her house bare.
Liam was lucky he was on another continent. He showed his face around me anytime soon, the violence thrumming in my veins wouldn’t be contained.
“Who the fuck does that to their friend?” I seethed.
“I know.” She pressed her hands to her temples.
“Who the fuck does that to the mother of their child?”
“I know, Elliot.”
“He wasn’t your friend.”
Her head dropped. “So he showed me.”
“He’s not a father either.”
Another sigh, equally heavy. “I’m aware.”
“You’re aware now. You should have been aware a year ago. A man who leaves his pregnant friend alone and then doesn’t come back for his baby is not a good person. You should have seen that far before sinking your savings into a house with no real plans of how you were going to do the work it required or how long you could float before you had to pay the bank.”
She leaped to her feet, arms flinging to the sides. “Don’t you think I get it? I’m an idiot. I fell for the pretty picture a man I shouldn’t have trusted painted for me. I should have seen it coming, but I wanted it too bad to use common sense. The house, the stability, the little family. I was dumb and needy. I brought my daughter into a bad situation. I know that. I know it!”
Her face was pink, tears cutting thick, broken lines down her cheeks. Alarm bells rang in my head, and panic churned frothy in my gut. Once again, I’d gone too far. Took a hammer to a situation that required velvet gloves. Catherine wasn’t one of the hardened men I dealt with on a daily basis, but I’d spoken to her like she was.
“Catherine—”
Her hair crashed around her shoulders from the violent shake of her head. “I get that I’m a bad mother. A failure of a mother. Don’t you think I know? I wasn’t ready for this, but I was selfish and had her anyway because I wanted her. Now look at me, making a fucking fool of myself in front of my boss and—”
I was on my feet, dragging her into my arms before I could think. This was exactly what I’d avoided for months—getting close to her, touching her—but I needed her to calm down, to be okay, more than I needed to preserve my boundaries.
Locked up memories of my own mother breaking down, falling apart, sobbing for days on end, clawed free. I was hugging Catherine but squeezing Elaine. The past and present blended, and I clamped my eyes shut, willing myself to remember who was in front of me.
Not my broken mother.
This was Catherine, having a bad moment, a bad few days, a tough fucking month or two. That was all it was. This wasn’t the end of everything.
“You’re okay,” I murmured. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I’m so stupid,” she rasped, letting her face fall heavy on my chest.
“You’re not. You made mistakes, but you’re not even close to stupid. I’m sorry.”
I cupped the back of her head and stroked her long, thick hair. Her cries were weak, barely even whimpers, but her shoulders shook like earthquakes.
“I let him lie to me. Lie for me. Why did I do that?”