Page 44 of Damaged Protector
Her smile was wide and genuine. “So much. My counselor is Merrit, and she’s a tough-as-nails sweetheart.”
“You’re pretty tough yourself, Mallori,” I told her. I’m not sure I’d ever spoken words as true as those. “That couldn’t have been easy… breaking those bonds and standing up for yourself.”
“It wasn’t,” she said with a sigh. “I still get hit with guilt sometimes, but I’m learning to get over it.”
“Good.” A thought hit me. “I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for your choices because I’m not, but I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“If you had your phone, why didn’t you call the police and turn your mother in for holding you against your will?”
Her lips twisted to the side. “A couple of reasons. First of all, I knew my dad would find out. Also, I had a lot of time to myself, and I used that time to think about what I really wanted and to plan.”
“Understandable.”
“I didn’t even tell Merrit the whole story until much later. I felt a sense of… contentment those five weeks, I guess, because I was finally doing something for myself.”
“I’m glad, Bee. Now eat,” I demanded, picking up my fork and pointing at her plate.
“Sorry I unloaded all that on you,” she remarked before taking a large bite of her lasagna.
“Not a problem. Anytime.”
She chewed and tilted her head again, her blonde braided ponytail falling over one shoulder. “You can tell me something, if you like.”
Picking up my glass of tea, I took a sip and eyed her over the rim. “I almost went to juvie when I was seventeen.”
“Ah, I had you pegged as a troublemaker,” she teased. “What happened? Joyriding?”
My right hand clenched my fork so hard, it left dents in the sides of my fingers as I told her something I’d never told another person. “Assault.”
Mallori swallowed hard, but I saw no judgment in her eyes. “Did they deserve it?”
A little in awe at her response, I answered, “They did. And for the record, my mother didn’t stand up for me either.”
The sides of her lips turned down. “I’m sorry. I guess we have that in common, huh?”
“I guess we do,” I murmured.
After dinner, I helped Mallori clean the dishes and then dipped out for a few minutes.
“Where did you go?” Mallori asked when I entered the kitchen through the garage.
“I ran to Walmart for dessert.”
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she reached for the bags, but I held them over my head.
“Ah, ah! Get your grubby hands off the merch. I didn’t say you could have any.”
She slugged me in the arm. “That’s mean, Tater.”
“Don’t call me that,” I insisted, placing the groceries on the counter, “or you’re not getting any for real.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Fine, Hawk. What did you get?”
“Well, you’ve had an ice cream sundae now, but I thought I would introduce you to the granddaddy of sundaes.” I paused dramatically as I unloaded a bunch of bananas and several jars from the white plastic bags. “How would you like to make banana splits?”
Her mouth dropped open, and she hopped up and down a couple times. “For real?”