Page 83 of Unleashed

“I wanted to watch television, so I asked Trevor to turn it on for me.”

Zara jumps into an explanation, which is good, because I’m not sure I could offer one. Not with the way Maren is looking at me now. Like she definitely just heard me tell Zara I would be taking care of her. At least I’m assuming that’s what she heard, because it’s the only thing I can think of that would have her shooting daggers at me with her eyeballs.

“It’s a school day. We don’t have time to sit and watch television. Especially since we’re so far away from your school now.” Maren sighs. “Since you’re already up, we might as well have breakfast⁠—”

“Nana DeeDee already brought me breakfast.”

The stabbing Maren is doing with her eyes gets more aggressive as she stares me down while repeating her sister’s words. “Nana DeeDee brought you breakfast?”

“Yup.” Zara is oblivious to her sister’s current state of discontent over this new information, which is likely why she continues on. “I had eggs and bacon and hash brown and a cinnamon roll.”

Maren closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she finally lifts her lids, a stiff smile manages its way onto her lips. “That was very nice of her.”

I knew there was nothing Maren wouldn’t do for her sister, but holding it together right now proves that to the nth degree. I’m sure she’s going to rip into me the second we’re alone, and I can’t wait for it to happen. But in spite of her own hangups and fears, she’s doing everything she can not to influence her sister or ruin her excitement over my mother’s obvious affection.

“Nana DeeDee is super nice.” Zara gives the television a longing look. “Since I already had breakfast, can I watch TV?”

Maren makes a general shrugging gesture with her hands. “Sure.” She turns away. “I need coffee.”

Quickly setting the television to Zara’s favorite channel, leaving her happily watching a bunch of ponies having brightly-colored adventures, I race after Maren. She’s going to need my help with the coffee maker, but I’m also a little excited to start this day off right.

With Maren yelling at me.

I practically skip down the steps nearly tripping and falling on my fucking face in my rush to find Maren. To show her one more way I can take care of her, just like Zara asked me if I would. I don’t expect her to accept my help, and I sure as hell know she wouldn’t believe me if I told her my intent, but I don’t mind showing her. As many times as it takes. I didn’t get where I am in life by being the kind of man who backs down when things are difficult. If anything, I seek out a challenge. Simply to prove I’m up for the task.

That’s likely why I seek Maren out now. Why I will seek her out again tomorrow. To prove I’m up for the task of showing her what it’s like to be taken care of.

But when I get downstairs and put my eyes on Maren, I question myself. Not my commitment—that’s still strong and well. My uncertainty lies in my ability. Because Maren doesn’t look angry or agitated. She’s not spitting mad or full of fire.

She looks… Afraid.

And that’s not an emotion I’ve ever seen on her face before. Not when she was facing certain death trapped by a fire. Not when she went toe to toe with Ruth’s ex. Not when her home was broken into and ransacked.

Only now. While she’s standing in my kitchen, perfectly safe, perfectly protected. Perfectly perfect.

“What am I supposed to tell her when this is all over?” She doesn’t wait for me to ask what’s wrong. Doesn’t make me guess why she’s upset, the way most people probably would. “She’s calling your mom Nana for God’s sake.”

I get where she’s coming from. I understand the concern. I also know it’s unwarranted.

But that’s not something I can explain to a woman who’s never had a family. A woman whose own mother steals from her on such a regular basis it’s an expected outcome. All I can do is wait for Maren to see what she’s too afraid to accept.

“My mother has wanted grandchildren for years. She’s developed a bad habit of claiming any kid who lingers too long as her own.” I carefully move closer, watching Maren for any sign I’m in danger of fucking this up. “I know it feels like a lot, but I promise it’s how my mom is with all kids.”

That’s a version of the truth. My mom does love all kids. She dotes on them and feeds them and loves the shit out of them.

She does not tell them to call her at five in the morning for breakfast, but that’s a conversation we can have another day.

“It’s not just that, Trevor.” Maren flails around, arms sweeping through the air as she gestures wildly at the house I failed to turn into a home no matter how much money I threw at it. “It’s everything. I can’t just…” She presses both hands to her head, eyes closing. “I just can’t.”

I hate seeing her like this. She’s not angry. She’s not fighting me. She’s not pushing my buttons or stabbing at me with well-crafted insults.

She’s lost. Stranded in the center of waters she’s never even seen from the road, let alone dipped her toe into.

And it’s up to me to teach her how to swim.

“No one is asking you to.” I step toward her, moving fast enough she can’t avoid me, and rest both hands on her shoulders. “There are no expectations here. Not from my mother, and sure as hell not from me.”

I know this isn’t permanent. I know she and Zara won’t want to stay with me forever. But that doesn’t mean I won’t always be there for them. That my mother won’t always consider Zara one of her own.