Beyond the Breaking Point - Lori Sjoberg Page 0,33
represented the company at one of the trade shows, some asshole made the assumption that she was some sort of delicate fucking flower, and she made them live to regret it. “And though she be but little, she is fierce. That’s my sister in a nutshell.”
“Familiar?” Another snort. “Hell, I’m related to it.”
“I definitely need to meet this woman.” Methodically, she dabbed ointment onto the wounds, and her touch sent minor shock waves through his body, each one more difficult to ignore. “These look even better than they did this morning. No outward signs of infection. Another day or two, you might not need the bandage.”
“Good.” The sooner he didn’t have to put up with being poked and prodded, the better.
She placed the ointment back in her bag and brought out the gauze and tape. “So you’ve got one sister. Is Austin your only brother?”
“No, I’ve got four more.”
“Wow, big family. Where are you in the pecking order?”
“I’m third. Austin’s the oldest.”
Hope let out a low whistle. “Five boys and one girl; no wonder your sister’s fierce. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to grow up with that many siblings.”
“It had its moments, especially in the mornings getting ready for school. There were only two bathrooms in the house we grew up in, and Larissa usually hogged one of them.” He hated talking about himself. It reminded him of who he used to be, and of how…different he’d become. Needing to change the subject, he said, “I take it you’re an only child.”
“Yep. Grew up in a small town outside Roanoke.”
“What kind of work did your parents do?”
There was a pause, and when she spoke again, her voice had lost some of its spark. “My mother died when I was four.”
Aw, hell. He hadn’t anticipated that response, and now he felt like an ass for dredging up bad memories. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.” She secured a piece of gauze over the scattering of buckshot wounds. Her voice was light, as though it were no big deal, but it also carried a subtle edge that hadn’t been there before. “It’s not like you’re the one who killed her.”
“Yeah, but it still sucks. Did your father raise you on his own?”
“No. He was in prison, serving twenty-five to life for first-degree murder. Last time I checked, he was still there.” She paused again, as though she were giving the words time to sink in. “He stabbed my mother in the kitchen while I was playing in my room, because he thought she was sleeping with a guy she worked with.”
“Jesus.” Wade fought back the urge to say sorry again, because he knew it would only annoy her. Given his track record, he should probably stop asking questions, but curiosity got the better of him. “So who raised you?”
“My Uncle Evan; he’s my mother’s younger—well, only—brother. He was twenty-three when he took me in. Poor guy; he had no idea what to do with a kid—let alone a little girl. But there wasn’t anyone else willing to give me a home, and he didn’t want me going into the foster system. I still remember the horror on his face when I told him I got my first period.” She chuckled at the memory as she eased the hem of Wade’s shirt down. “All that said, Uncle Evan made a great dad. He treated me like I was his own. He was there for every science fair and band recital, and when I started dating, he did his best to put the fear of God into every boy who dared to pick me up at the house for a date.”
The fondness in her voice loosened some of the tightness in Wade’s chest. After what happened with her parents, it pleased him to know she had some semblance of a happy childhood. He turned to face her. “Sounds like my kind of guy. Is he still around?”
“Oh yeah. He works as a diesel mechanic in Roanoke.” Worry lines creased her forehead as the smile faded from her lips. “I haven’t talked to him in almost a year. He must be worried sick about me.”
“As soon as we get back to town, you can call him.”
“That’s assuming I live long enough.”
“You will.” He’d make sure of it. Looking down, he met her gaze, and his heart kicked in his chest. Unnerved, he coughed to clear his throat, feigning an