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I chew my lip as the familiar cold dread starts to spread through me, just like it always does whenever normal people bring up family. “Good for your dad. I don’t care if I never eat another egg again.”

“Why? You allergic?”

I hate talking about myself—myrealself—but the more I talk, the more likely it is he’ll give me what I need. “I lived with a family who kept chickens.”

He drops a chunk of butter into the pan, and it sizzles. “You ate a lot of eggs?”

I toy with my coffee cup, staring into the black. “I had to.”

He cracks an egg, and my throat starts to close over. “What about pancakes? Did you ever get pancakes? Waffles?”

I toss my head. “Just watery poached eggs. When he found out I didn’t like eggs, their son told me they were white slime that bled snot.”

Mick grimaces. “Sounds like a nice kid.”

“Oh, yeah. He was great. He was twice my size, six years older, and liked to lock me in the hen house when I wouldn’t do his chores for him. I was trapped in there for three hours once. I missed dinner.”

I hadn’t screamed for long. Just long enough to realize it wouldn’t change anything.

No footsteps down the path. No one calling my name.

They knew I was missing.

They just didn’t care.

He stops stirring the mixture. “Didn’t anyone come looking for you?”

I choke out a laugh. “Who? The parents? They were hardly home. That’s why they fostered kids. They’d get the money, and the oldest kids in the house were supposed to look after their biological kids. After I tried to tell them about the hen house, they said I was a liar and had ‘behavioral issues.’ My word didn’t count. Because I don’t count.”

His gaze searches my face, sharp and unblinking. “You don’t think you count?”

I backpedal fast, heart hammering. “I meant Ididn’tcount. Back then.”

“But that’s not what you said. You said, ‘I don’t count.’ As in present tense.”

My hands clench into tight balls at my stupidity. “I just meant in a big family you can fall through the cracks.”

His mouth presses into tight lines. He doesn’t look angry. Just caught off guard. Like I’ve said something he doesn’t know how to fix. His gaze holds mine, unflinching, but there’s something different in his eyes now. Something quieter. Sadder.

“I don’t know who told you that, but it’s baloney.”

I open my hands. “Why do you care what I believe? It doesn’t change what I’ve done to you.”

He gawks at me. Stares down at the half-prepared eggs, grabs the bowl, and dumps them down the sink.

My eyes pop as surprise takes hold of me. “I thought you wanted eggs?”

When he turns back, he’s wearing a wry smile that baffles me further. “My cholesterol is probably getting too high anyway.”

Given his job and his physique, that seems unlikely. “Don’t deny yourself on my account.”

He rubs his hand over his face. “Was it like that with all the families you were with?”

A groan slips past my lips before I can stop it. “Why don’t we talk aboutyourfamily?”

I’m rewarded with a smile and warmth that lets me know his upbringing was exactly what mine wasn’t.

“What do you want to know?”