‘So you just went home with them?’
‘I said “no”. I wasn’t stupid. Why would I trust them? But Paul was insistent. He asked if I wanted to just come and have dinner. I didn’t have to go into their house, I could eat on the driveway, but they would feel better knowing I’d had a proper meal.’
‘That’s very kind of them.’
‘They were kind.’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s it? You went for dinner and, what? Just stayed?’
‘It wasn’t that easy. I went for dinner, and ate on the driveway. They invited me in, I refused. They asked me to come back the next night, and I did.’
‘Why do you think they went to the trouble?’
‘I asked him that, once. You know they could never have children of their own? And yet, they didn’t adopt, they didn’t foster. But he said that when he saw me, so skinny and hungry,he just felt like he’d been put on earth to take care of me.’ His voice was gruff as the memory of that permeated his chest. ‘They never pushed me. I never felt like they wanted anything in return for their generosity, except my safety. After about a month of dinners, I trusted them enough to stay. It was supposed to be for a weekend, but then Paul began to talk to me about his work, and it was like a fuse had been lit in my belly. For the first time, I felt all these neurons in my brain connecting, lighting up like a Christmas tree. I was obsessed with everything he said: the business, the opportunities. He saw it, and gave me a chance to work with him, on the basis that I went back to school. And so, there you have it. For the next three years, I went to school, worked with Paul, and ate Stephanie’s food. I grew healthy again, nourished, and though they never asked me to say that I loved them, or to pay them back in any way, for the first time in my life, I had a bed, and I didn’t fear that it would be taken away. They gave me the greatest gift I could have known. Security.’
He didn’t realise she was crying until a tear thudded onto his chest. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping her tears away.
‘I didn’t even cry, when they died,’ he muttered, staring up at the ceiling, remembering the bleakness of that day. ‘But it was like an anchor point in my life had been ripped away. I had briefly known what it was like to belong to a family, of sorts, and just like that, it disappeared.’
‘Oh, Theo,’ she murmured, pulling up higher so she could press a kiss to his lips, before resting her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m so glad you met them, that they took you in.’
‘As am I,’ he agreed. It had been a perfect relationship for him—and for them. Neither had wanted something that the other wouldn’t give. He knew that if they’d pushed him for more, he’d have run a mile, but they hadn’t.
‘I just remember you appearing, and yes, you were skinny,’ she murmured. ‘But you were also so vital, so…’
He tilted his face to look at her, and despite the seriousness of their conversation, a smile lifted his lips at the memory of the crush she’d had on him.
‘Yes?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not here to make your head any bigger.’
He grinned, his fingers drawing invisible patterns on her back. But they slowed, as his mind went back to that time, those first few years with the Georgiadeses. ‘You were such a quiet kid,’ he murmured. ‘So withdrawn.’
‘You made me nervous.’
He shook his head, though. ‘It wasn’t just around me. I saw you with your friends, your parents. You were always watching.’
She bit into her full lower lip, in a way that made his cock react instantly.
‘I was always watching,’ she admitted, several moments later, so he’d wondered if she was going to answer him at all. ‘Or maybe it would be more accurate to say I was always anticipating.’
‘Anticipating what?’
She sighed. ‘Trigger points for my parents.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Like, little things that people say, or do, that would tip them over the edge. Make them think of Mary when they weren’t prepared.’ She cleared her throat.
‘You managed their grief.’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, huskily.
‘Annie, you know it’s not your job, don’t you?’
She nodded, but frustration whipped his insides.