Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae 1)

Roger nodded with a sympathetic expression. “I’m sorry to hear that, although it saved your life in this instance. And who are your parents, if I may ask? Are they magical?”

Manic laughter bubbled out of Charity before she could clamp a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. No, Walt is not magical, unless you count his ability to clear a room with a fart. He had his mouth on a bottle constantly. He didn’t work much, and when he did get a job, he got fired almost immediately. My mom had to support us. Her dad was a deadbeat—she dropped out of college to take care of him—and then she married a guy just like him. I’ll never understand why. I don’t think she did, either. Anyway, she didn’t have the credentials for a good job, so she worked all the time. Very mundane situation—no magic from either of them.”

“And where are your parents now? Do they live near you?” Roger asked, and Charity could tell he had his kid gloves on. He was dialing down his scary power so she wouldn’t bolt. She appreciated it, but if the outside world weren’t orange and filled with gold dust and blue people, she would’ve run long before now.

“Walt lives in a bad part of Chicago,” she said. “He’s mooching off the state.”

“And your mother?”

Charity shrugged, picking at the table edge. “She took off when I was sixteen. Left a note, apologizing. It pleaded with me to graduate college and make something of myself. To turn out better than she did.” Charity shrugged again, pain wobbling within her like kernels of popcorn, ready to explode. She hated thinking about it. It was the only thing that could really make her cry anymore. The only thing that could spear down through the thick crust she’d built up since that day.

“Wait,” Devon said. “Your mother left you with an alcoholic father? Just…left? Did you have anyone to take care of you?”

“I was sixteen. I’d had plenty of experience taking care of myself by then. And I had John.”

“Who’s John?” Roger asked.

“He was my boyfriend. He had two normal parents that trusted him. Still poor, but they had enough. They treated me like a stray, but I didn’t care because I got hot meals and a warm house. I pretended to go home after they fed me, but really I climbed through John’s window after they went to bed. Going home with Walt drunk… It wasn’t the best place for me.”

“And where’s John now?” Devon leaned forward and put his elbows on the table.

“Texas. We parted ways after high school. I came here and he went there. It didn’t make sense to stay together long distance.”

“His decision?” Devon asked knowingly.

Charity narrowed her eyes at him, remembering the things she’d overheard about him. He certainly wouldn’t do long distance, if any of those things were true. Or a second date.

A familiar pain tightened her throat. The split with John had shattered her heart, but it had been for the best. He’d needed to get out on his own and live his life, and her path lay in a different direction.

She took a deep breath and struggled out of the pain. She’d promised herself, after her mother had left, that she wouldn’t let bitterness eat away at her. That she would embrace life, hang-ups and all. Sometimes it was a struggle, but she’d always pushed through before, and she didn’t intend to stop now. No matter how hard the road got, or what stood in her way—including whatever this was—she would keep going until she realized her dreams, one way or another.

She sighed. Easier said than done.

“And you haven’t heard from your mother?” Roger’s voice dripped sympathy, thawing her a little more toward him.

Charity shook her head, so close to tears that she was fidgeting frantically to stop them. “She walked away and never looked back. I don’t blame her—Walt is big, dumb, strong, and mean. She didn’t have it easy. Sometimes the bruises looked like permanent marker. I had somewhere to go. She…well, she left to save her life. I can’t begrudge her, or any woman, that.” She wiped away a stray tear and bent her head so her hair would cover some of the pain on her face.

“But she walked away from her daughter.” Anger slashed through Devon’s previously controlled expression. “Why didn’t she take you with her?”

“That isn’t our business,” Roger chided softly. “I’m sure this is a tender subject.”

Charity shrugged.

“And that’s why you’re in college? For her?” Devon made it sound like an accusation.

Charity was about to tell him where he could shove his judgments, but Roger got there first.

Only Roger didn’t need words.

One look had the air turning brittle with unspeakable menace. Devon jerked ramrod straight, as if he’d received a verbal command.

Charity hunched, nerves dancing like skeletons.