Perfect Wreckage (Wrecked #2) - Catherine Cowles Page 0,43

“All the most important things to know.”

“Her mom’s in jail for drugs. It’s a second offense, so she’ll likely be there for a while.”

Kenna sucked in a sharp breath. “There’s no other family who can take her?”

“They declined to take custody.”

Kenna muttered a curse under her breath. “How long has she been in foster care?”

“A few weeks now.” I looked over at Kenna for a brief moment before returning my eyes to the road. The lines on her brow and the set of her eyes communicated a mixture of anger and pain. “Were you ever in foster care?” I hadn’t even considered what memories this might bring up for Kenna given her history.

She stared out the window towards the ocean as we drove. “One week. It was more than I’d wish on anyone.”

My hands tightened on the wheel. “Bad foster parents?”

“Not bad. Just…exhausted. Too many kids in one home. And I was terrified of what was going to happen to me.”

“But Harriet got you.”

A small smile tipped her lips. “She did. I’d live through that week a hundred more times if it meant I ended up with her.”

“You two were good for each other.”

Her smile widened, it was that unguarded one I so rarely got but craved with every part of me. “We were, weren’t we?”

I pulled into the driveway of a house that looked a little worse for wear but not too bad. Zoe was sitting on the front step with her new backpack, Mrs. Calhoun in a rocking chair behind her with a baby on her lap.

Kenna’s hand reached out and grabbed my thigh as I put my truck in park. “That’s Zoe?”

“Yup. She’s gonna love you.”

Kenna blew out a breath. “Let’s make today really fun for her.”

A grin spread across my face. “That we can do.”

Kenna had absolutely no reason to worry, she and Zoe became instant friends in all of about two minutes. By the time we made it to the aquarium, I was simply a tagalong on their adventure. They talked nonstop. When we wrapped up our morning’s excursion and headed for lunch, I felt as if I’d learned more about the two of them in those few hours than in the entirety of the time I’d known them.

“Did you know that the Pacific Ocean is more than thirty-five thousand feet deep at its deepest spot?” Zoe had been rattling off random facts all morning.

Kenna looked up from her menu. “That is pretty crazy.”

“I wouldn’t want to go that deep in the water.” Zoe gave an exaggerated shiver.

“Me, either,” Kenna replied. “I’ll stay firmly on the surface, thank you very much.”

Zoe grinned. “I’ll stay on the beach.”

“I like swimming too much for that.”

Zoe looked down, becoming incredibly interested in studying her hands.

“What is it, Zo?” Kenna’s voice was gentle but not babying. She’d been striking that perfect balance with Zoe all day, interested and engaging but not pushy. It was as if she had this sixth sense for when to move forward and when to give the little girl her space.

“I don’t know how to swim.” Zoe mumbled the words so they were barely audible.

Kenna gripped my knee under the table, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. We lived on a chain of islands. How had her mother not gotten her swimming lessons? They gave them for free through the school system because it was incredibly dangerous to live where we did and not know how to swim. Kids could get into too much trouble when they played in and around water so often.

“Would you like to learn?”

Zoe’s head snapped up at Kenna’s question. “You could teach me?”

Kenna’s lips curved. “I’d love to teach you. We can start next weekend if you want.”

A shadow passed across Zoe’s expression. “I have to ask Mrs. Calhoun, but I really want to.”

I laced my fingers through Kenna’s under the table. She gave a small jerk in surprise but then eased into the contact. I gave her hand a squeeze of thanks. “We’ll figure out a way to make it happen.”

Zoe’s eyes reddened. “Thanks for being so nice to me, you guys.”

Kenna squeezed my hand even harder. “Thanks for hanging out with two old dorks.”

I turned on Kenna in mock-outrage. “Hey! Speak for yourself. I’m young and hip. Right, Zoe?”

She giggled. “You’re pretty cool…for an old dude.”

I clasped a hand over my chest. “You two wound me. Shots straight to the heart.”

Our waitress stepped up to the table. “Back again, Crosby? But you brought

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