The Harder You Fall by Gena Showalter

was potent now despite the shadows haunting his eyes and the tension that always radiated from him, he must have melted hearts as a child.
    When she glanced over at him, however, her confidence withered. He kept his attention on the road, his posture stiff and his knuckles bleached of color. Just then, he was a man who’d revealed more than he liked.
    He’d just told the truth, hadn’t he?
    Wow. His own parents, however long he’d been with them—not to mention all those foster parents—hadn’t spared a few seconds out of their busy days to immortalize a moment of his childhood? How gut-wrenching. Wrong on every level.
    Sadness for the little boy he’d been washed over her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Even if you’d looked like you were born downwind of an outhouse, I would have snapped a thousand photos of you. And then used those photos to blackmail you later, but my reasons are inconsequential.”
    â€œThank you?” He changed lanes to pass a minivan. “But it’s not like I have a monopoly on crappy childhoods.”
    â€œIn this car you do. I had a great one.”
    â€œYou sure about that? You were what, around thirteen when your dad died in an explosion at work? You were only seventeen when your mom drowned and your uncle showed up to save the day only to leave with the insurance money.”
    She blinked over at him. The entire town knew her history—well, they thought they knew—so it wasn’t a big surprise West had the basic info. He was just the first person to ever state the facts so plainly. “I was a teenager in both instances, not a child. Big difference.”
    â€œNot really. Pain is pain.”
    â€œAnd don’t go thinking you know everything about me, either,” she added as if he hadn’t spoken. “There’s more to both stories. A lot more.”
    â€œDo tell.”
    And share her deepest, darkest secrets with the man who thought she’d been scraped off the bottom of a shoe? “No, thanks.” She had enough trouble with her past without adding his commentary.
    Even now, she thought of her mom falling... because of me ...her mom screaming, begging for help... because of me ...and she wanted to bawl like a baby who’d lost her favorite blankie, hug Brook Lynn, apologize forever and, and, and—
    As the panic attack knocked at the door of her mind, she forced her thoughts to fast-forward to her mother’s funeral, when she’d basically self-imploded. She’d gotten drunk for the very first time and given her virginity to the skeevy boy who lived down the street. The one who’d thought he was God’s gift to the entire town. The one who’d told all his friends she was easy.
    From that point on, she had been.
    She’d given no consideration to Brook Lynn’s care because she’d counted on Uncle Kurt to take care of everything. He’d promised. Only, like West had said, Kurt fled soon after collecting the insurance check. By then, Jessie Kay had been such a hot mess, the fifteen-year-old Brook Lynn had to pick up the slack, getting a job delivering papers, collecting donations from Strawberry Valley Community Church and doing everything within her power to keep two teenage girls together, fed, clothed and sheltered and, and, and—
    Can’t breathe. Need to breathe.
    A warm hand squeezed her knee, giving her the jolt necessary to focus on something other than the past.
    â€œJessie Kay?” The gentleness of West’s voice shocked her more than his touch.
    Inhale, good. Exhale, better. “I’m fine. Really.” Or she would be. As soon as she reached her sister. Brook Lynn had a way of making everything A-okay.
    â€œYou sure about that?”
    Convince, move on . She offered the brightest smile she could manage. “Are you okay? You actually seem concerned about my well-being.”
    He yanked his hand away from her.