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Huck nodded. “He’s still in bed. He stayed with Liam until the club was emptied last night.”
Wanting to read the report first, I walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, then sat down. I flipped through it, glad it wasn’t very thick, before starting on the first page.
Aspen Rain Chance, born December 26, 2002, in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Parents—Misty Teresa Graves and Theo Frank Chance—killed in a boating accident on July 4, 2005.
Fuck, she’d not even been three years old yet when she lost her parents.
Sister: Irish Rose Chance, born July 10, 1996.
Address: 382B Holland Drive, Ocala, Florida.
I continued reading and found her father had been a foster child, no living adoptive parents. Her grandmother had raised them and died almost three months ago in Robertsdale, Alabama.
Medical conditions: Ebstein’s anomaly—genetic heart defect. Underwent surgery at the age of eight years old.
My stomach dropped as I read the lists of hospital stays she’d gone through in her life. The most recent being forty-three days ago. Holy fuck.
She’d been homeschooled, no college. Volunteered since the age of fifteen in the pediatric unit at the local hospital, a girls’ shelter, a church-run food shelter. She had sung in the Baptist church choir. A short relationship one year ago with a Brent McCumber. Only paid job had been as a secretary at Gibs and Horton law firm for the past two years until she was hospitalized, then moved to Ocala to live with her sister.
“Seems you brought home Mother Teresa,” Gage drawled from across the table.
I lifted my eyes from the report in front of me to meet his.
He smirked at me. “Huck feels like a dick. He’s not saying it, but I was there when he read it.”
I dropped my gaze back to the paper. The heart defect was gnawing at my gut.
What did that mean exactly? Why had she been hospitalized so damn much?
I went on to read about her cardiologist and her regular appointments with him.
A hand touched my shoulder, and my head snapped up to see Trinity standing there with a plate of food for me.
“You need to eat,” she said, placing it in front of me. “And Huck is sorry he was an ass last night.”
I set the papers down, feeling like a ton of bricks had just been dropped on my chest. What did I do with this? She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she had no one. Her life had been fucking sheltered. How the hell had that happened with a sister like Kitty?
“My old room is empty,” Gage pointed out. “Looks like she needs a place to live for the time being.”
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. Fuck, was that what we had to do?
“I just move her in here?” I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around that plan.
“Not sure there is anything else we can do,” Huck finally said. “She’s alone. She’s got heart issues, and she’s clearly not well. Not to mention, we don’t know if those bastards are looking for her.”
Thenot wellthing was bothering me. I didn’t like to think that she had health issues. She had enough bad shit going on. Why that too?
Gage was right; she was fucking Mother Teresa, and the fucking devil had brought her home.
“She’s staying here,” Trinity said with clear determination in her voice. “There is no debate on that. You all can figure out the rest, but she can’t live alone, and I won’t allow it.”
She was taking the decision away from me, and, fuck, I was relieved. The heaviness on my chest eased some, but not completely. I still felt like I’d just taken on a responsibility I wasn’t capable of handling.
I stood, picking up my plate. “We need to find out where Kitty’s—Irish’s body is and handle a private funeral. Somewhere that we can control the security. Aspen needs to put her sister’s body to rest. I’m going back up there. She doesn’t need to wake up alone.”
“So, you’re adopting Mother Teresa? Is that the final decision?” Gage asked, amused.
