weighing the options. And every move he’d made since had flowed more than jerked. As though he lived his life deliberately as opposed to reacting to it. That was a characteristic she respected.
“First and foremost, I’d like you to allow Tatum to spend the night at The Lemonade Stand.” Sedona repeated her initial request. She’d wanted to keep her tone congenial. Nonthreatening. Her words came out as more of a plea than anything else. She’d expected not to like this man. Instead, she wanted to get along with him.
For Tatum’s sake. And...just because.
“It’s obvious that your sister is struggling. And that she’s not happy at home. It’s also very obvious to those of us who’ve spoken with her today that she wants, more than anything at the moment, to spend the night at the shelter.”
He watched her. Saying nothing. But his gaze remained direct. Focused.
“We have a bed ready for her. In a bungalow with a woman who lives and works full-time at The Stand. There will be another woman, an employee, who will be awake in the bungalow all night, keeping a watch in case anyone has any problems.”
His brow quirked.
“If you allow her to stay, Tatum will be under twenty-four-hour supervision. She understands that if she stays at the shelter, she will not be free to come and go. She’s a minor. She can only leave on the say-so of her legal guardian.”
“And she wants to stay on those conditions?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I prefer not to be called ‘sir.’ My name’s Tanner.”
There was no invitation to friendship in the words. More like a simple form of address.
Sedona liked that, too.
Remembering Tatum, a girl without a mother, a girl whose big sister had been out of touch, Sedona tried to keep her guard up against this man. “So, Tanner, will you let her stay?”
“I want to see her.”
“I understand. She’d rather not see you tonight, though. She’s asked for this one night of peace to figure things out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. She’s coming home. She has school tomorrow.”
Sedona tried to smile. It didn’t work. The man barely moved, his facial features relaxed. His voice was so quiet she could only just make it out within the din of the other patrons in the shop. And yet going up against him was like scaling impenetrable rock. Sheetrock. The kind that was strong without bulk.
He was human. When it came to people there was always a way in.
Thinking back over their conversation, she searched for any breach in the facade he presented, any exhibiting of tension. A different tone of voice, or speed of speech. And could only think of one.
“Why would you think your mother hired me? Has she tried to be in touch with Tatum?”
“She’s tried to contact us a few times. When she was down and out and needed money or a place to stay. I won’t let her anywhere near us. She signed away her rights to her minor children ten years ago, and other than the gift of life, she’s never given them anything worth having. I’m not going to have her insidious filth anywhere near them.”
There was no venom in his voice. Just calm conviction.
“What makes you think she’d hire me now?”
He looked her straight in the eye. “My mother is ruled by one thing and one thing only—her addiction to drugs. If she’s desperate, she’ll do whatever it takes. She once promised a guy he could join my sister Talia in the shower if he’d give her a hundred bucks. I’d left to take Tatum next door when Talia got in the shower, not knowing that Tammy had this guy in her room. I traded off with the neighbor, taking the little ones to kindergarten. Tammy got confused and thought it was my day to drive them. I came back and heard what was going on and kicked the guy’s ass out of our house.”
Sedona believed him. She didn’t know why, but she did. “How old was Talia?”
“Sixteen.”
Hadn’t Tatum said her sister was sixteen the first time she’d run away?
“Did you press charges?”
“I had no proof because nothing actually happened. It was their word against mine. And I didn’t want Talia to know what I’d overheard, or what had almost happened to her, which she surely would have found out if we’d gone to court. But I knew, because of our past history with the system, that I stood a much better chance of being believed than Tammy did. So I told her I was going to press charges unless she gave me custody of the kids, then got out of our home and never came back.”
He didn’t seem to be looking for sympathy. Or even understanding. And he’d given her far more insight than he probably knew or intended. Tonight she saw a man who’d had a lot of responsibility thrown on him from a very young age. And a boy who’d clearly seen and known more than any child should.
She saw a man who’d had a tough life.
And who could have developed an unhealthy view of relationships. And of family.
A man who would resort to hitting his sister if he thought, for one second, she was going to fall into her mother’s ways? A man who thought physical discipline was far healthier for his teenage sister than the drugs and sex her boyfriend was using to tempt her away?
The drugs and sex that had ruined their mother’s life?
“When was the last time you heard from her?”
“Three years. But it makes sense for her to show up. Tatum’s fifteen. Another three years and we’ll be home free. She’s running out of time if she hopes to milk one last penny out of having given birth.”
Wow. How could a person say such words without any hint of bitterness in his voice? The guy was cold as ice—or was healthier than she figured she’d have been if she’d grown up like he had.
“You have a brother, Thomas, correct?”
“Yes.”
“How does he feel about your mother?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Thomas’s father was Tammy’s dealer. And, I believe, her pimp. When he was five, Thomas disappeared for three days. I never knew what happened to him, but I know he was with his father, and when he came back he didn’t talk for more than a month.”
“Did you report this to anyone?”
“No. I was ten at the time. My father was dead. I had no way of providing for my brother and sister and knew that if they took us from our mother, we’d be separated. I just made certain that I didn’t leave Thomas or Talia alone with Tammy after that.”
“Do any of you have grandparents?”
“Not
