Chapter 33

Why are her parents not looking for her? How long has she been here? She is too young and
vulnerable to be alone.

“Yes … I came home from school … she wasn’t conscious at the time, but she came around when the
ambulance got here. I think it looks worse than it is. Maybe a broken arm … ribs … her face is a mess.”
She drops her gaze to her hands the whole time she talks, and I note that they’re trembling. I think the
girl may be in minor shock, even still, feeling instant compassion for her. This is not her burden to bear.

“The man was gone I take it?” I try a different approach.

“She was alone, I have a key, so I let myself in.” I see it fully this time, the slight waver in her lip, the
darting of her eye. She’s hiding the fact that she knows who did this. She doesn’t know me, and I know
from experience she will never tell me unless I gain her trust.

“Do you want to come to the hospital with me in the morning?” I ask, sipping my coffee and watching
her, remaining calm and steady. She moves in her seat uneasily and nods.

“Go to bed, Sophie. I’ll get you up in the morning for breakfast.” I smile warmly at her as the look of
confusion spreads across her face. I want this girl to know I only have her best interests at heart, that
I’m nothing like my mother. She uses people like Sophie as a balm; self-gratification in helping people
in need.

“I normally do breakfast and get your mother up.” She blushes as though she’s said something wrong
and the anger simmers deep down inside me. Sizzling with fire.

Of course, she’s living my old life. Being the caretaker, the cook, the cleaner, the mature responsible
one while my mother is the eternal victim. Nothing changes.



“Not while I’m here, Sophie … You get to be the kid for a few days.” I want to ask her about her life,
why she’s even here, how she ended up in the homeless shelter—meeting my mother, but I know it’s
late. I’ll have time to talk to this girl, save her from a life she doesn’t need with a woman who can barely
look after herself, let alone a teen. I won’t let Sophie have the childhood with my mother that I endured.
That much I can promise. This ends here.

* * *

After I’ve cleaned up our mugs and straightened the kitchen a little, I head to my mother’s room pulling
out my cell to call Jake while sprawling across the comforter.

He answers immediately, glad that I’m here and that I sound okay. I’ve nothing much to tell him, simply
happy to hear his voice. I tell him that I won’t see my mother until tomorrow and don’t want to talk about
her tonight.

He makes me laugh, talks about how much he’s pining in my absence and being silly. My usual cheeky
Jake and that’s what I need right now.

“You know, tiny toots. I don’t have anything much going on. Just Daniel’s birthday.” Daniel protests in
the background in response, but Jake ignores him. “I could hop a plane and keep you company?” he
seems serious, despite the casual tone to his voice. An undertone I recognize.

“He’s your best friend, you can’t bail on his birthday bash.” I object but sigh at just how much I adore
him for it.

“I’m sure he won’t even notice if I’m not there; he has a new porn star to keep him occupied. This one
has even bigger breasts than the last. I swear he’s going to die from implant suffocation one of these
days.” Again, Daniel’s voice as he reacts to what Jake is saying but it’s not clear. Jake muffles a reply
to him with a jibe and then a laugh as he tells him to stop eavesdropping like a girl.



Men!

I laugh at Jake’s joke, trying to picture Daniel with another brainless bimbo. He seems to choose girls
who wear underwear as day wear and have a collective IQ of four.

“I needed that.” I giggle as I wipe moisture from my eyes, smiling like a fool. “You always cheer me up,
you know?”

“It’s my job, Bambino. As your official shoulder to cry on.” He sounds like he’s moving around, and I
recognize the noise of jangling keys. My mood dying because I know he has to go.

“Are you getting ready to go out with him now?” I probe, wishing he was here. That heavy feeling that
soon he will need to hang up and I don’t want him to.

“Sure am, but I can change plans if you say the word. One little word, Ems and I’m on a plane to windy
Chicago.”

“Jake. Don’t … I’m okay, really.” I brush him off ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach
while hating myself for refusing him. He sighs noticeably and the humor drops from his tone.

“I just want to be there for you and make sure you’re all right, Emma. Is that so wrong?” The pleading
edge is so far removed from who he is, and it just stirs guilt. My heart constricting for him while
picturing that wounded face.

“No. It’s just complicated with my mother and I don’t want this life to touch on the one I have now.” I try
to explain, hoping he won’t get annoyed. That he’ll understand.

“Guess I’ll just have to get smashed out of my head and drunk call you in the early hours then, Miele.
Better get prepared for it.” He chuckles softly, and I just shake my head, mockingly groaning. To ease
the tension.



“Please … Just no asking me to research any fetishes for you. I don’t want to know what weird and
kinky things you get up to on nights out.” I grimace at the thought, pushing that horrid tightness in the
pit of my stomach away.

“I could always come and show you some of the weird and kinky …”

“Jake!” I break in laughing fully, relieved at his inuendo on the other end of the line. His mood back to
fun.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” There’s the return of that smirk in his voice. Back to cheeky and who I
miss most.

“You never stop trying.” I point out with a raised brow. “I need to go, it’s getting late and I have to get up
early.”

“Okay, shorty, call me tomorrow okay? I swear I’ll try not to drunk dial you, but I ain’t making no
promises. For some reason, your cute little face comes into my head when I want to have 4.00 a.m.
drunken chats about the weather, cats, and weird fetishes.” He laughs, a deep, hearty, tumbling noise
that only highlights how far away he is.

“Go away, Carrero. I’ll be silencing my cell, so you can’t do that to me again.” I laugh convincingly,
hiding the pang of sadness coursing through me at having to hang up.

“Sweet dreams, Bella. Dream of your sexy boss, I hear he’s a big manly hunk.”

I roll my eyes and sigh heavily, shifting on the bed where I have gotten relatively comfy.

“You know you could bottle all your excess ego and make a killing with it as a new Carrero product. You
certainly have enough to spare.” A jest, lingering and cradling my cell to keep him on for a few more
seconds.



“Good idea, Anderson. I notice you never disagreed that I was your hunky boss though. That’ll keep me
warm tonight.” I can almost hear his winking down the line. “Go to bed. Sleep tight and don’t let the bed
bugs bite … That’s my job, Bambino.”

“So many things I could sue you for, boss! I should record our telephone calls. I would make a killing in
lawsuits,” I jibe back, my mood is definitely lighter with his jokes.

“Baby, you would miss my attempts at sexually harassing you. I don’t want you thinking that you’re
some ugly little pudding that no man wants to bed. I have to keep your self-esteem high, to keep up
with mine.”

“Jake, I’m hanging up now, I can tell you’re already on the vodka.” There’s a faint voice behind him that
sounds a lot like Daniel Hunter again. Still eavesdropping.

“Whiskey actually! I like my drinks to put hairs on my chest. Goodnight, Emma. I miss you, kiddo.” The
smile in his voice makes me picture his best Hollywood, Sex God smile and dimples and again the pit
in my stomach starts aching.

“I miss you too, Jake. Goodnight.” I really do.

I reluctantly put the cell down, wishing he was here with me. Even just his light carefree banter for ten
minutes is enough to put my whole evening in a better mood. Sighing and getting ready for bed, I let
nothing but thoughts of him fill my head while keeping the shadows at bay.

I find that he’s on my mind as I fall asleep, not my return to Chicago and it helps push me to peaceful
slumber.

* * *


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