“I know that. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I just like needling her.” Little in my days gave me as much pleasure as seeing pink hit Kenna’s cheeks and hearing her snarky comebacks. Those were the moments I saw her genuinely come alive. I knew what it was like to live life as a half-zombie, following a track I didn’t even remember starting down in the first place. I didn’t want that for Kenna. She had too much life brimming beneath the surface.

Harriet chuckled. “You two are like cats and dogs.”

“She needs someone to call her on her bullshit.”

Harriet sent a pointed stare in my direction as if she were thinking about giving me another smack. “Language, young man.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Harriet. She needs someone to call her on her bull hockey.”

Harriet’s lips twitched. “You’re not wrong.” Her focus went soft as if she were lost in a memory. “She’s had a tough life, my sweet girl. The fates have not been kind to her, and she deserves so much more.”

My chest tightened with a phantom grip. For as much as I tried to pick up stray bits of information from Kenna’s friends, I knew very little about her past. The woman was locked up tight as a drum when it came to discussing anything personal. I hadn’t seen her discuss personal topics with anyone. The only thing I knew was that she had been raised by Harriet. “What happened to her parents?”

Harriet’s lips thinned into a hard line. “I’m not sure if her mother even knows who Kenna’s father is. Or, if she does, I doubt she ever informed him that he has a daughter. The kind word for her would be flighty. She doesn’t have a mothering bone in her body. She’d dump Kenna on her grandmother and then leave for weeks on end. I thought when Carrie passed away, Kenna’s mother would step up, but she didn’t. When I found out she’d left Kenna alone for three days, I filed for custody. Janet didn’t fight it.”

My fingers flexed around my glass. The control, the rigidity, it all made a little more sense now. The majority of her childhood had been full of uncertainty. That changed a person’s makeup. “How old was she when she came to live with you?”

“Eleven.”

Not young enough. The damage had already been done. I found myself wanting to give Janet Morgan a good shake. “I hate that she went through that.”

Harriet patted my hand. “Me, too, dear boy. Me, too.” She took me in with an assessing stare. “What’s your interest in her?”

I held up my hands in mock surrender. “It’s not like that, I swear.”

Harriet scoffed. “I’ve heard that one before, and from far better liars.”