Serial Bride by Ann Voss Peterson Page A

devoted she was to a sister she’d known for only six months was proof of that. “Did you have a rough childhood?”
    â€œThe families I lived with did right by me. I can’t complain.”
    â€œBut?”
    â€œI guess I just always had the sense that I didn’t belong. That they were taking care of me, but they weren’t my real family. That it was all temporary, you know?”
    He didn’t know. But then, how could he? He’dgrown up with his parents hovering over him and his little brother teasing him and breaking his toys. He’d always known he belonged. “Is that where the cynicism comes from?”
    â€œI suppose.”
    â€œI’ll bet it was hard, moving from family to family.”
    â€œOnly the first time.”
    And then she’d gotten used to it? Bryce jammed his hands back into his pockets. “What happened the first time?”
    â€œIt’s not important.”
    â€œYou can tell me. God knows I talked your ear off earlier. It’s your turn. And besides, if you’re going to make me stand out here in the cold in the middle of the night, you’re going to have to make it worth my while.”
    She blew out a breath through tight lips and looked at him as if she didn’t believe he really wanted to know.
    â€œIf you don’t start distracting me, I’m going to have to insist we go back to the car.”
    â€œThe first couple who took me in wasn’t able to have children. I came to stay with them when I was three, and I always remember my foster mother going to doctors and taking fertility drugs, charting her temperature, the whole thing. Finally when I was about eight, she got pregnant.”
    â€œSo what happened to you?”
    â€œThey included me in everything. Watching her belly grow. Shopping for the crib and baby clothes. I even got to pick out these little washcloths shaped like a duckling and an elephant. They fit over your hand like a puppet. I was so excited about giving the baby a bath with those.” The smile that had touched her lips while she was reliving the memories faded.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œThe child services people came to get me a couple of weeks before the due date. I never got to see the baby.” She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t understand it, as if she still felt the sting. “They didn’t want to be foster parents anymore. Once they got their real child, they didn’t need me. But the thing that kills me to this day is that they didn’t tell me. They just called child services. They let me pick out washcloths knowing I’d never get to use them.”
    â€œHow could someone do that to a kid?” How could they do that to Sylvie?
    â€œOther kids went through worse. Much worse. I was actually very lucky.”
    Lucky. Right. If having your heart broken as a child was lucky. “Did you find another family?”
    â€œI was bounced around after that. But it didn’t hurt. Not like that first time. You learn not to let it.”
    â€œHow could it not hurt? You were just a kid.”
    â€œThat’s the secret of cynicism. It works a little like a suit of armor.” She gave him a dry smile.
    A smile that hit him square in the chest.
    He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand here and pretend he only wanted to be with her because of some deal they’d made. He wanted to get to know all about her, to soothe her bad memories away, to hold her in his arms and make new ones. He slipped an arm around her.
    She looked up at him, searching his eyes.
    He wanted to tell her how special she was. How strong and spunky, how warm and sweet. But he couldn’t find the words. He’d used words to make cases his entire career, but none would suffice now. He could only show her. He lowered his lips to hers.
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    B RYCE BRUSHED his mouth over Sylvie’s lightly, with more sweetness than passion, more caring than lust, more searching