From Fearless
Part III: All-American Monsters
Copyright © 2014 by Lauren Gilley
**
Her
smile was thin, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “You wanted me to be
different.” From the rest of you, she
left unsaid.
“I wanted you to be better,” Ghost
corrected. “And you are.”
The backs of her eyes burned. She
blinked and stared at her hands.
“I just…” Ghost took a troubled
breath. “I wanted you to know that. That you’re doing a good job and I’m proud.”
That was probably her cue to leave,
because she wasn’t going to get bigger praise than that. But she felt unsteady.
It had been a very long time, she suddenly realized, since she’d sought shelter
in the arms and leather-covered chests of any of the Lean Dogs in her life. She
missed that. She was rabidly nostalgic for that, and wanted to dive across the
table and into her father’s lap so he could tuck her under his chin and promise
to put bullets in all her fears.
But she wasn’t a little girl anymore – not that
club-attached girl she’d been growing up – and he was proud of that.
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