Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4) by Elizabeth Hayley (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗

but I’m surprised you were taken away for that. It seems more like an accident than neglect.”

“She let the burn go for almost a week. It got infected, and they almost had to amputate my hand.”

“Oh,” she said sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Shaking my head, I tried to not let my brain remember what it had been like in the hospital. I’d been young, but I could still recall snippets of that day.

“Honestly, they probably wouldn’t have taken me away for just that. But I was also borderline malnourished, and I told them she routinely left me alone in the apartment. I didn’t understand why they were asking me those questions, so I didn’t know to be anything other than honest.”

“If you could go back, would you have lied? I mean, if she wasn’t treating you well, wasn’t it better to be honest and get out of that situation?”

I almost smiled at how naïve Taylor was. And I didn’t mean that in a negative way. Part of me was glad she didn’t have firsthand knowledge to know that entering foster care came with a whole new set of challenges. It made me want to temper how I described my experiences in the system. “Foster care can be…difficult. At least with my mom, I knew what to expect. But I got bounced around a lot, and one family was so different from the next. It was unsettling to say the least.” Traumatizing would be more accurate. “But that first time, she actually made a solid attempt to get me back. Cleaned herself up, got a job, things were looking up. A judge let me go home, and things were okay for a while. They just didn’t stay that way.”

I was momentarily interrupted by Helen dropping silverware rolled in napkins on our table. It was hard to tell if she’d misjudged how high above the table the silverware had been when she’d dropped it or if she just didn’t give a fuck. Or the third option: she was blind.

When she left, I continued. “I don’t want to get into too much detail. Suffice it to say, I bounced back and forth from my mom to foster care. Things got a little better when my sister, Hudson, was born, but my mom just couldn’t handle being responsible for other people. When Blink was two, she went to live with my mom’s sister—”

“Wait… Blink?”

“Oh, that’s my nickname for her. That’s a story for another day.” At least that one’s funny.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you. Continue.”

“So Hudson—Blink—went to my aunt’s, and I went back into foster care—for good that time.”

“Why didn’t your aunt take you too?”

As I picked apart a piece of bread, I thought of how best to answer. Finally, I decided to be honest and hope for the best. “I was a difficult kid. I had…have…ADHD, and I’m dyslexic. I got in trouble at school a lot, and my aunt didn’t want the hassle.”

“What a bitch,” Taylor said, though it was clear she hadn’t meant to blurt it out, because her eyes widened comically. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

A smile split across my face. It felt good to have someone sound so outraged on my behalf. “It’s an accurate description. She’s horrible. I feel bad Hudson had to grow up with her.”

“Well, I feel bad you went into foster care again.”

“To be honest, I’m not. I had my fair share of rough placements over the years, but when I was taken that last time, I ended up with the Holts.”

I watched realization dawn on her, probably as she processed that I’d taken their last name at some point. “While I was staying with my mom, I’d started escaping to an after-school program every day.”

She smiled. “Like Safe Haven?”

“Similar in some ways. Though they didn’t have a Harry Gillette. They had a Melissa Holt. When I stopped showing up because my caseworker had put me back into foster care, Melissa supposedly moved heaven and earth to find me. She and her husband became foster parents so they could take me in, and the rest is history. I lived with them until I turned eighteen and went away to college.”

There was more to that story, but I could only be flayed open so wide. Telling Taylor about Emily would have to wait for another day.

Taylor looked at me intently. Her eyes glistened slightly, and I wondered if it was the light or if she’d been moved by my story in some way. The last thing I wanted was anyone’s pity, but the idea of someone having compassion about what I had gone through was unexpectedly moving.

“I’m glad you had them,” she said after a moment, her voice sounding a bit raspy.

“Me too.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Not as much as I should. They’re down in Georgia, and I moved north for school and don’t make my way back home too much.” As much as I loved them, there was a lot of pain split between us. Staying away was better for all of us, no matter how much I wished it wasn’t true.

“How long has it been since you last saw your mom?”

I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “I’m honestly not sure. I’m sure I saw her at some court dates, but I have no memories of it. So as far as I’m concerned, I haven’t seen her since the last time I was taken away from her.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.”

“Nine?” Taylor’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head again. “You haven’t talked to her since you were nine, and then she called you out of the blue today?”

“She called for a couple birthdays here and there, but I haven’t heard from her in, God, since high school. Melissa told me she was trying to get in touch with me, though, so the call wasn’t a total surprise.”

“Jesus. I’m… I don’t even know what to say that won’t sound like an empty platitude, but I’m