Page 33 of Striker’s Rebel

That gets the smallest smile.

“I never knew my real parents,” she says. “I was abandoned as a baby. Foster care was pretty much all I knew until I aged out.”

I keep my hand around her arm, loose and careful.

“Shit, Rebel.”

“I survived.”

“Can see that.”

She studies my face.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“That look says you know something about shitty parents.”

Sharp woman.

“Never met my father.”

Her face softens, but I don’t see pity.

Good.

“My mother raised me. Just us.”

“And?”

I almost leave it there.

Then I look at the scars again.

Fair is fair.

“She met a man when I was sixteen. Left with him.”

June blinks. “She just left you?”

“Yeah.”

“For him?”

“Looks that way.”

“That’s...” She stops herself.

“Fucked up?”

“I was going to be more polite.”

“Why?”

Her mouth twitches.

“Haven’t seen her since,” I say.