I closed my eyes and barely said, “A monster.”
Malcolm sighed but kept looking up. “Tell me about you, Paislie. I don’t have the unfair advantage of Googling you and finding all the fun stuff out like you did.”
I bit down on my lip and smiled. “I’m pretty boring. Nothing really to tell.”
“Oh, no way. Spill it.”
I slowly took in a deep breath. I’d never told anyone about my childhood or the fact that I was raised in an orphanage.
No. One.
But with Malcolm, I felt the need to share everything with him and I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to. “It’s really kind of a depressing story. One I’m sure you could totally do without hearing.”
He rolled over on his side and rested his head on his hand. When I glanced his way, I couldn’t help but notice how built he was. Damn. I bet he had rock-solid abs and a chest that would make me—
“I don’t think so. I want to hear it. Please.”
Dear God. Please give me the ability to not give in to my desires.
I looked back up at the sky and fixed my eyes on one single star and started talking before my brain could catch up with my silly heart.
“I was eight years old when my father left me at St. Patrick’s Orphanage. I wanted so badly for him to want me, but he never did.”
Malcolm’s hand took mine as I kept my eyes focused on the stars. “Your mom?”
Tears pooled in my eyes as I bit down hard on my inside cheek before speaking again. “She died when I was five.”
His hand squeezed mine. “I’m so sorry. Do you remember her?” A slow smile spread across my face as I thought of my only memory of her.
“I remember standing on a chair at the counter. It must have been Christmas because we were making cookies, and I remember pressing the cookie cutters into the dough. I can’t for the life of me remember what shape they were though.”
Malcolm ran his thumb over my hand and I couldn’t ignore the way it caused my skin to tingle. “Tell me what she looked like.”
I took in a shaky breath and I blew it out slowly as I grinned. “She was beautiful. I remember her smile the most. It was a happy smile. That’s the only way I know how to describe it. Her dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and I remember how it swung over her shoulders as she turned her head. That’s the only memory of I have of her. No pictures. Nothing. I hold that memory close to my heart.”
Malcolm didn’t say a word as he patiently waited for me to continue. “Anyway, the day my father dropped me off I met Sister Elizabeth. She was twelve years older than me and had always been more like an older sister. She still is,” I said with a chuckle as I continued to stare up.
“At one point in my life I thought I wanted to give my life over to God and join the sisterhood, but Elizabeth talked me out of it. She knew I was using it as an escape from reality. I of course turned to guys as my escape, went to college, and decided physical therapy was for me.”
“What made you pick that career?”
Moving my head to look directly at him, I laughed. “Football players.”
He lifted his eyes and chuckled. “Do tell.”
“St. Pat’s had a football team I used to help out with. Kind of like the manager I guess. Anytime the guys would get hurt, I’d watch Sister Mary tend to them. She had started nursing school before becoming a nun. The older I got, the more I did.” I wiggled my eyebrows and said, “Of course it didn’t hurt that I got to touch all the boys when that was very frowned upon. I lost my virginity to one of them after a game in the girl’s locker room. That is not a pleasant memory.”
Malcolm laughed and I loved how it vibrated through my body and settled deep into my lower stomach, pulling out the desire I had to touch him even more.
“Once I got to college I knew why Sister Elizabeth steered me away from becoming a nun. I wouldn’t have lasted a year.”
His hand squeezed mine as I shook my head and looked back up. “I worked my ass off in college, made good grades, did God’s work whenever I could and never forgot my roots at St. Patrick’s. I got hired on with one of the best physical therapy practices in the Dallas area. And guess what?” I asked as I dropped my head back to the side.
“What?”
I bit down on my lip as I stared at him before speaking again. “I still get to touch football players.”
Malcolm closed his eyes and said, “Tell me they’re pro players and not high school.”