Page 15 of Deck the Skulls

“Sure we can,” Zan answered. Straightening up, he addressed the patrons of Sanguine. “I’m on break for the next twenty minutes. Got it?”

“Does that mean I can serve myself?” someone asked, making a few people laugh. After the humor died down, everyone went back to their conversations.

“I guess you can do that in a place this small,” Rissa murmured, looking relieved.

There were dark marks under her eyes, and her slumped shoulders screamed her fatigue. It made him want to put her in his bed and hold her until she slept.

Zan caught his eye and shook his head. The shifter could feel his impulses, but they weren’t there yet.

“Did you grow up in San Diego?” Zan asked.

“Yes.”

When she didn’t say more Zan chuckled. “Don’t drown me in details!”

A small smile twisted her lips. “I don’t like talking about my past.”

“Why?” Anatoly asked. “Did someone hurt you? I’ll make them pay.”

“Down boy,” Rissa said, giving him a tired smile. “I just didn’t have the best childhood, and people act weird after hearing about it so I don’t talk about it.”

Anatoly felt Zan’s urge to comfort Rissa through their link. The mountain lion shifter was better at dealing with emotions and communication. Anatoly kept silent to let Zan work his magic.

Zan leaned forward a little, his eyes full of genuine kindness and sincerity. “You don’t have to tell us, but I’d be honored if you would share.”

“It was only ever Mom and I, and sometimes life was a struggle,” she said with a small shrug.

Anatoly was surprised. Humans didn’t form packs, slithers, or flocks, but families did tend to take care of each other. “You don’t have any other family?”

She took another small sip before answering. “My mom grew up with really strict parents. I only remember meeting them once. That was the day they refused to let me live with them when I was eight.”

“I’ll end them,” Anatoly growled. He felt Zan’s displeasure through their link. “Sorry, please continue.”

“I’ve felt the same,” she admitted. “I was so angry with them for a while. Now I want to be successful and rub it in their faces. Bonus points if they’re poor and sick, and I get to refuse to help them.”

“What happened to your mom that you needed to live with them?” Zan asked.

“Mom went a little wild when she was sixteen,” Rissa explained. “She never told me much, but she ended up addicted to meth, and her parents kicked her out.”

“How could parents do that to their child?” Zan asked. He’d never known anything but a loving family. Anatoly had seen enough to know it wasn’t hard for some to turn their backs on the most helpless.

“They weren’t nice people.” Rissa took another sip. Her glass was almost empty now, and Zan was quick to pour her more.

“Was she pregnant with you?” Anatoly asked. “When she was kicked out?”

“Not then,” Rissa said. “I happened a few years later. She was in and out of rehab, group homes, and foster homes until she turned eighteen. Then she was on her own. She tried to get jobs but didn’t even graduate high school. Then she became a sex worker and got pregnant with me.”

Once she’d said her mother was an addict, Anatoly expected the story to turn in that direction. “Did she give you up for adoption?”

“Never!” Rissa said, her expression proud. “Mom fought like hell to keep me. She got off the meth, applied for every program she could, and even asked her parents for help. Sometimes we had a home, and sometimes we lived in a car. She worked her ass off to take care of me.”

“She was so young, and there were so many things going against her,” Zan murmured, pouring another three fingers into Rissa’s glass. “She must’ve been an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Rissa agreed. “There was one Christmas when we ended up living in the car again, but she was determined that it would still be magical. She found a small fake Christmas tree and glued it to the dashboard. There were two wrapped presents under it when I woke up on Christmas day. She took us to eat at two different soup kitchens that were putting on big holiday meals. We ate until we were full and smuggled out enough food to last for another two days. It was the best Christmas.”

“She made something that could’ve been traumatizing into a special day,” Zan said. “That’s admirable.”

“That wasn’t the only time she did it,” Rissa said, her eyes unfocused as she looked into the past. “She’d figure out ways to celebrate my birthday or Thanksgiving. And she was at everyschool play and parent-teacher conference. No matter what was going on, she made sure I still went to school as best she could.”