Heart of Glass (Fostering Love 3)

“That’s a long story,” she said, still smiling. “But eventually, my dad got out of prison and got us back.”

“Prison, huh?” I tried to keep the judgment out of my voice.

“A marijuana charge,” she murmured, rolling her eyes. “Pretty much bullship.”

“Didn’t you have a little sister?” I asked, changing the subject since it seemed like a sore one.

“Yeah, Miranda,” she said, happily. “They put us back together after I left your house.”

“I always felt like shit when kids came to us without their siblings,” I said with a small shake of my head. “I didn’t understand why they did that.”

“Sometimes it just worked out that way,” she said pragmatically. “Your parents were some of the good ones, though. They made that summer bearable.”

“We had a full house then,” I remembered out loud. “I was surprised when you got placed with us.”

A sound from somewhere in the house made me freeze, and seconds later a small voice called out.

“Hold that thought,” Morgan said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

It took everything in me not to pull out my phone the minute she walked away. I couldn’t believe how well things were going. The best-case scenario I’d imagined hadn’t even come close to what I was actually dealing with.

“You hungry?” Morgan asked, coming up behind me. Her tone made it clear she wasn’t addressing me, but I turned around anyway.

There she was. Henry’s blond-haired, brown-eyed little girl. Shit, she was cute.

“This is Etta,” Morgan said, bouncing the baby on her hip. “And her hair is a mess when she wakes up from a nap.”

I smiled as Etta said, “Mess,” and threw her hands into the air.

“Hi, Etta,” I said, getting to my feet.

“That’s Trevor,” Morgan told her, pointing at me. “Wanna say hi?”

“Hi!” Etta gave a little wave, and a lump settled in my throat.

She looked like my brother when he’d first come to live with us. The cheeks were the same, and the shape of her nose and eyes were pretty much identical to Hen’s. Her mouth was all Morgan, though, especially when she smiled.

“I gotta get her some lunch,” Morgan said. “You’re welcome to stay, but it’s nothing fancy—”

“I’d love to stay,” I said quickly, ignoring the little voice in my head that warned me to be careful.

“Okay.”

“I just need to make a phone call.”

When Morgan carried Etta into the kitchen, I stepped outside the front door, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and scrolled through my contacts. Inhaling deeply through my nose in an effort to calm my excitement, I called my mother.

“Mom?” I said as soon as she’d answered. “She looks just like Henry.”

Chapter 4

Morgan

Did you have a good sleep?” I asked calmly, trying to keep the nervousness from my voice as I sat Etta in her booster seat at the table.

I zoned out as she answered me, going on and on about her nap using language that only she understood. There were usually a few words I recognized mixed into her long sentences—both in English and Spanish thanks to Carmen’s tutelage—but for the most part I just let her go on and on describing who-knew-what.

I smiled and nodded as her rambling continued, but my heart was thumping hard as I moved around the kitchen, waiting for Trevor to come back inside. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said that I’d expected someone from Henry’s family to show up. The life insurance policy he’d left us was no joke—it was a huge amount of money, and I knew that would raise some questions. However, I hadn’t really expected them to want anything to do with us.

The Harris family was kind of incredible, though. I’d realized that during the summer I’d lived with them. They were kind and funny and inclusive, and they were the best foster family I’d ever been placed with. But along with those attributes, they were also fiercely protective of their own. It wasn’t a bad thing—far from it. If anything, it was another point in their favor. But learning that one of their kids had a child they’d never met probably didn’t paint me in a very favorable light.

“Sorry about that,” Trevor said as he walked slowly into the kitchen behind me. His deep voice was tentative, like he was afraid I was going to kick him out of my house at any moment.

“No worries,” I replied, swallowing hard as I glanced over my shoulder. He had no idea how badly I’d needed those few moments of privacy to get my shit together. “Sandwiches and bananas for lunch, if you’re hungry.”

“Sure,” he said, his kind stare focused on Etta as she pushed her disheveled hair out of her face. The blond strands were so fine that I had a hard time keeping it pulled back, and every time she brushed it out of her eyes it slowly moved right back to where it was to begin with.