Why not?
It wasn’t like he was my actual guardian.
Just another man, and I’d met plenty of those over the years. Although, this one came with an aura of mystery. Why him? What had my father seen in him that made him seem like a good choice?
Whatever it was, I sure as shit never spotted it in the few times we were together.
Other than a cold, sporadic email here and there, he barely existed to me—just some shadow looming beyond my world that gave the occasional signature proving I wasn’t as alone as I appeared. Teachers would see the scribbled name and smile, sighing in relief that I hadn’t been abandoned at their boarding school like an orphan dropped off in the middle of the night at a shelter.
Little did they know that that was exactly what happened. Except, I’d been an orphan dropped off at Corbin’s house, like a stopping point to be sent away from, just to be dropped off at another doorstep.
What would they call me? A double orphan?
I must have laughed at my own joke because just then, Corbin’s attention snapped my way. For a moment, I held his stare. Maybe if I looked him right in the eyes, I could find the thing Dad saw in him. Despite the resentment over the years, I knew there had to be something. I trusted my father. He was a good man, and he loved me more than anything. He wouldn’t toss me to a pack of wolves if he didn’t believe they wouldn’t eat me.
The problem was that my father’s heart attack had been sudden and unexpected. Maybe he hadn’t updated his will after Corbin married, because while something urged me to not dismiss Corbin just yet, I hadn’t had any doubts about his wife. Juliette had bitch written all over her.
“Do you plan on standing there all night or coming to eat?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
My lips twitched as soon as he looked away. The deep tone initially sounded like irritation, but years of sitting back and listening honed my skills to read what was underneath. And underneath his words wasn’t annoyance. No, Corbin was unnerved, and I didn’t hate it one bit.
Stepping from the shadows, I padded barefoot across the kitchen, shoving my own discomfort aside, and pretended like I belonged there. The reality was that I’d lived in a dorm or a small loft alone for years, and I didn’t remember what being in a kitchen with others felt like. I imagined this was what Tarzan felt like when he left the jungle for civilization.
Not that Stanford was some wild wilderness, but it was its own jungle—one that I mostly kept to myself in. What could I say? When your only family passes away and your guardian ditches you as soon as he can, it leaves a mark and some abandonment issues.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Do you have wine?” I scrunched my nose at the empty beer on the counter. “I’m not a beer drinker.”
He blinked a few times as if the words didn’t process.
“Or water?” I offered.
“Sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “I guess you’re old enough to drink.”
I huffed a laugh, shoving down the pinch in my chest. “Yeah, I’m twenty-two now.”
“Of course, most people do graduate college around that age,” he muttered, pulling down a wine glass. “You can grab a red from over there.”
A bottle in hand, I met him at the table in the kitchen. Enough pasta to feed a small army sat piled on my plate. “Do I look like I’m starving?” I joked.
His eyes barely flicked up and down, but still, a chill raked down my spine. “You are petite.”
“So was my mother.”
“I never met her,” he explained, taking the wine. “I’d just met your father before she passed away.”
“Well, I’m sure you saw pictures, and it was a running joke among friends how small she was next to my dad.”
He laughed softly. “He was one of the few men who made me feel short at six-two.”
I smiled, remembering the giant man with a giant personality who’d doted on me for as long as I could remember. I always wanted to be as tall as him, but he warned me I’d be lucky to make it to five-five, let alone six-five, encouraging me to make up for my lacking height with strength and courage.
“What?” I asked, finding Corbin studying the bottle of wine with a small smile of his own. “Did I pick the wrong one? I have to admit, I’m no wine afficia—”
“It was Alec’s favorite.”
Alec…Dad.
It was the first time I’d heard his name out loud in years, and it hit like a blow to the solar plexus. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.
“Anyway.” Corbin cleared his throat and opened the bottle like a pro, pouring two glasses. “I figured, at the very least, not to expect you until the end of May, after graduation.”