Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(7)
A chuckle rumbles in my chest, and I drop my head. “I was dying to see Rage Against the Machine on their reunion tour. But my dad, rich and famous as he might be, didn’t fund my—or my sister’s—lifestyle. He was big on teaching us life lessons and avoiding the silver-spoon effect. At that point, I’d just started university and was broke. My tuition was paid, but I worked at a bar to pay rent and eat.” I shake my head as I think back on that conversation with my dad. “He wouldn’t spot me the hundred bucks for tickets. Told me that hardworking people prioritize necessities and sometimes go without the extras.”
Her lips twitch, and she looks away. “Wow. You really showed him.”
I don’t respond to that as it hits me—I’ll have to tell my parents about Cora. I think? I’m not sure why she’s here or what she wants.
“It’s almost like Zack de la Rocha played a part in my conception, and I guess that’s pretty cool. And they haven’t been on tour since, so who can blame you, really? Decent investment.”
I laugh now because how can I not? “I appreciate your logic on that one.”
Cora cracks a smile, but it’s a sad one. She told me she’s twelve. But she seems wise beyond her years, world-weary in a way a twelve-year-old shouldn’t be.
My voice comes out rough when I say, “Okay, let’s pretend I really am your biological parent. What brings you here to my doorstep?”
“What doorstep? This place is a dump,” she mutters sullenly, and I glance over my shoulder to confirm that it is indeed a dump without a doorstep.
“Actually, that’s the house.” I point to the craftsman-style house beyond the barn. It’s not perfect, but it’s close. New and rustic all at once. The barn though? Yeah, it needs some work.
But I know it will be worth the effort. The view of the lake, the smell of pine on the breeze. Spring is in the air, and as soon as everything greens up, this place will be impressive.
“My dad died.”
That one sentence stops me in my tracks. Her fingers are still fidgeting, eyes still downcast, but I’m motionless as I watch her.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” God, that sounds so fucking lame. This kid’s dad died, and I turn into a clichéd Hallmark card.
But she doesn’t seem to care. In fact, she shrugs again. Apparently, it’s her signature move. “He was sick for a really long time. He had ALS, so we knew it was coming, ya know? Not like it was some big surprise.”
I swallow roughly, deciding to let her talk rather than insert myself into what clearly isn’t my story.
“My mom…” She sighs, her entire torso rising and falling with the heavy exhale. “My mom isn’t coping well without him. They were high school sweethearts but had me later in life. Trouble conceiving and all that. And we don’t have anyone to help us.”
Pressure crushes hard and heavy against my chest. It feels like someone’s booted foot is holding me down and they’re putting more and more of their body weight onto my lungs. I struggle to keep my breathing even, but Cora doesn’t seem to notice.
“I think she needs to go live somewhere with… some support.” Now her head wobbles, and I can see her weighing her next words carefully. “Been doing some research, and I’m pretty sure she’s clinically depressed. Like… bad. So I started searching up different places for her, ya know? Maybe an inpatient center. There are a few around. Talked a bit to the counselor at my school about it too. But with me being a minor, she said I’d probably get moved into the foster system unless we could arrange a kinship placement. She’s doing me a solid right now by not calling social services already.”
Now it’s my turn to drop my head and trace the toes of my boots, so I have something to do with my hands. I wonder how we must look right now, sitting side by side, mimicking one another’s movements.
“Turns out you might be my only living family. Well, besides my mom.”
Fuck.
“No aunts or uncles or grandparents? Someone you might know better than me?”
She sniffs and I give her the courtesy of not looking her way. I don’t know the kid, but she seems like the type of person who wouldn’t want me staring at her while she cries.
I know I wouldn’t. Maybe it’s hereditary.
“Nah. Both parents were only children. Grandparents are dead.”
“Okay.” I nod, still staring at our shoes. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, let’s take you home. Maybe talk to your mom.”
From the corner of my eye, I see her turn to stare at me. “Just like that?”
I straighten and lean back against the rickety steps behind me. Internally, I’m freaking out. I’m not equipped for this shit. I don’t even know what kinship placement means. What it looks like. What’s required. But if I’m the only thing standing between this girl and the foster system, then fuck, how would I sleep at night if I said no? Deep down I’m too damn soft for this shit.
“Yeah. Just like that.”
She’s twelve. She doesn’t need to worry about the details. That’s what the adults will do. My lawyer. My lawyer, Belinda, who is going to kill me for this.
I can practically hear her now. Her voice sounds like she smokes a pack a day. She’ll probably berate me for always being such a raging asshole and then choosing the most inopportune times to have the biggest bleeding heart.