Return To Me. Jacquelin Thomas

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СКАЧАТЬ It’s one of the first things she usually told men who seemed interested in her. It helped to eliminate the ones who were simply looking for a good time.

      “That’s cool.”

      “Do you have any children?” Bree inquired as she studied his profile.

      It took a moment for him to respond. She wasn’t sure he’d heard her. Bree opened her mouth to repeat the question.

      “No,” Austin interjected. “But I’m looking forward to having a child one day.” He wanted to bring up the subject of Emery, but didn’t want to make her suspicious as to why he’d be so interested in her son, especially since they’d just met.

      “I think being a parent is probably my best achievement. My late husband and I really wanted children.” She took a sip of her drink. “He would’ve loved Emery.”

      “I’m sorry for your loss.”

      Bree smiled. “Thank you, Austin. There was a time when it was hard for me to think about Caleb, but it’s gotten easier. We had a lot of good times together.”

      “I can’t imagine going through something like that.” Austin took another sip of his water when she moistened the top of her lip with the tip of her tongue. “I know my family would rally around me,” he said, shifting slightly in his chair.

      “You’re lucky in that respect. I have no family,” Bree stated flatly. “I’ve had to deal with everything alone.” Austin had no idea just how lucky he was to have supportive family members. Anyone she’d truly cared about in the world was gone except for Emery.

      “You’re not close to them?”

      “I grew up in a drug-infested apartment in Atlanta for the first six years of my life. My mom died of a drug overdose, and I lived with my paternal grandmother. When she died a couple of years later, I was placed with a foster family. I don’t have any other relatives—at least any that I know about.”

      “I had no idea,” he uttered.

      Bree gave a slight shrug. “There’s no way you could’ve known. Besides, it wasn’t that bad. I had good foster parents. We lived in a nice neighborhood in Atlanta, with a great school. I was on the basketball team and even earned several college scholarships.” She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, then said, “I think I turned out okay.”

      “I agree,” Austin said with a smile.

      Bree settled back in her chair. “So, tell me about you.”

      “Well, I grew up believing that my dad cared more for his twin daughters than he did me. Moving here and spending time with him, I found out that it wasn’t the case and that I’d wasted a lot of time being angry with my father.”

      “Jordin adores you,” she said. “Jadin, too.”

      “I have two incredible sisters.”

      “What made you choose law, Austin?” Bree asked. “Especially since you were angry with your father during that time?”

      “I think it was a way for me to feel close to him. Maybe I wanted to make him proud.”

      “What’s the story behind that scar above your eye?” she questioned.

      “You noticed?” He grinned. She smiled back.

      “When I was in the ninth grade, I got into a fight with a bully at school. He picked up a stick and hit me with it.”

      “Wow... I hope he got the worst of it.”

      “Oh, I left some scars,” Austin stated. “When I saw that I was bleeding, I lost it. I was told that it took three people to get me off him.”

      “I had a fight in high school,” Bree said. “It was with a jealous teammate. She got into some trouble in one of her classes, so she had to sit out a game. It was my chance to finally show the coach what I could do, so I took it and I got her spot.” She sipped her tea. “The thing is I really needed to be noticed—it was the only way I could go to college. My foster parents were good to me, but they’d made it clear that with four kids—we needed to try to get as many scholarships as possible.”

      Austin took a sip of his drink. “My dad paid for my college education and trust me, I’m grateful. I’ve already started an education fund for my children.”

      “I thought you didn’t have any,” Bree interjected.

      “It’s never too early to start planning,” he responded.

      She smiled. “You’re a very smart man, Austin. I have a college fund for my son, as well.”

      It pleased Austin to hear this. At least Emery had been placed with a responsible woman. “How did you end up in Vegas? Was it because of your husband?”

      “After I graduated, I landed a great job there with a mental health center. My husband was a musician and found work right away—it just worked out. But when he died, I didn’t want to stay in Nevada. Jordin had been urging me to move closer to her for years, and since she was the closest thing I had to family, I moved to Charleston and decided to open my own practice.”

      “When I was growing up, people didn’t openly admit to seeing a psychologist. They didn’t even talk about mental illness,” Austin countered.

      “In the African American community, there are still some people who consider mental illness to be a white person’s disease,” Bree stated. “It’s terrible because statistics tell a different story. Twenty percent of blacks are more likely to experience some form of mental illness than Caucasians.”

      “I think it has to do with socioeconomic disparities from slavery to race-based exclusions when it comes to health care.”

      “It’s true,” Bree said. “People who live in poverty or have substance abuse problems are at higher risk for poor mental health.”

      Austin couldn’t help admiring her intelligence and compassion.

      They finished off their meal.

      “I’m glad I ran into you,” Austin told her. “I hate eating alone.”

      “Same here.” She wrenched herself away from her ridiculous preoccupation with his arresting face.

      “Bree, that’s not exactly true,” Austin confessed. “The truth is that I’d like to get to know you better. I enjoy your company.”

      His words pleased her. “I’d like to know more about you, as well.”

      They exchanged phone numbers.

      Bree checked her watch. “I need to get back to my office. I have several appointments this afternoon.”

      He took her hand in his and kissed her on the cheek. “Until next time.”

      “Goodbye,” she whispered, pulling her hand away from his grasp, his touch sending shivers through her.

      Their steps were hurried once they exited the shop. СКАЧАТЬ