“No, I wasn’t,” she agreed solemnly. “But at least I was able to earn enough to keep us out of homeless shelters. When I turned sixteen, I started working in retail, one job after school and another on weekends. My schoolwork suffered even more, but I made sure to pick easier classes that I could keep up with. No calculus or chemistry for me, I’m afraid.”

Ian hauled her against his side, as though unable to keep from touching her a moment longer. “It doesn’t matter, love. You’re the brightest, most brilliant girl I’ve ever known.”

Tessa sighed. “I always felt stupid in school. Except in my computer classes. I knew early on that I wouldn’t even try to go to college, and worked on improving my computer skills instead so that I could get a good job. I had always figured on taking care of my mom, you see, hoped that once I graduated from high school and got a real job that I could finally get her some help, get her on the kind of medication that might allow her to have a normal life. But I ran out of time.”

She started to tremble then, finding the next part of her story the most difficult and painful. She took another fortifying sip of brandy, not even flinching from the burn this time.

“By my junior year of high school, my mother wasn’t even getting out of bed most days,” she continued haltingly. “We were living in Tucson then, had moved there in January. It was October when it happened – and on a Wednesday, of course. Because almost every bad thing that’s happened in my life has been on that day of the week.”

Tessa hid her face in her hands, struggling to find a way to resume her story. The next part of her tale was by far the most difficult, the most gut wrenching, but it had also been the catalyst that had set so many other things in motion.

She kept her eyes downcast and fought hard to prevent her voice from breaking. “When I was driving home that evening from work, I could smell the smoke in the air three blocks away. I pulled up in front of our apartment building and it - it wasn’t there anymore. There had been a fire earlier in the day and the entire building was destroyed. When I got there a fire truck was still on site making sure the flames were under control.” She raised tear filled eyes to Ian, her jaw wobbly. “My mother - she didn’t make it out, Ian. Most other residents weren’t at home at the time, and the few who were heard the smoke detectors and got out. My mother was probably too deep inside her dark place to pay attention, probably didn’t even hear the alarms or the sirens or smell the smoke. She was - gone. Everything was gone - our furniture, our clothes, dishes. All I had left were the clothes I was wearing, my purse and school books, and our old car.”

Tears were running freely down her cheeks now as she whispered in a broken voice. “I should have been there with her. I knew how bad off she was, how far into her depression she’d fallen. I could have saved her, could have -”

“Stop it.” He crushed her against him, lowering her head to his shoulder and holding her while she wept. “Hush, love. Don’t do this to yourself. I’m guessing you’ve blamed yourself for years, but it wasn’t your fault. Your mother was very ill from the sounds of it, and you were at work when the fire started. Working to help take care of her, I might add. So stop feeling responsible, Tessa. It was just a terrible accident.”

Ian continued to rock her gently in his arms until her sobs began to subside, and she was calm enough to continue telling her story. She didn’t resist when he refilled her brandy glass, and obediently took a swallow.

“So what happened to you after that?” he prodded gently. “You were what - sixteen? Were you forced into one of those foster homes you had heard awful things about?”

“No.”

She gave him a somewhat abbreviated version of what had happened after that horrific night - living on her own in a motel for a week or so; moving in with Michelle and her family, only to bitterly regret that decision very quickly; how things had gone from bad to worse when Brittany and Sean had moved in.

Ian made a low, snarling sound when she told him about Sean and his unwanted attraction towards her. “If you’re about to tell me that piece of filth touched you - or worse- I swear that I will hunt him down like the animal he is and beat him to death,” he vowed darkly.

She laid a hand on his arm, soothing his barely controlled rage. “No. It never got that far.”

She continued with her story reluctantly, knowing that the next part would only incense him further. When she admitted to having lived in her car for long weeks, Ian shut his eyes and didn’t speak for several seconds, almost as though he were silently counting to ten to keep his rage in check.

“God.” He surged to his feet and began to pace around the library. His entire body was tense and almost shaking, and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as though he longed to hit something.

“If it’s any consolation,” she told him meekly, “I only lived that way for about four months.”

He spun around to face her, his handsome face livid with rage. “Four hours would have been too long for you to live like that. I feel - sick, Tessa. Bloody sick at the thought of you all alone and helpless. Jesus, anything could have happened to you out there. You could have been raped, robbed, murdered.”

“I know,” she admitted reluctantly. “I never slept especially well those months, was always cautious to make sure no one bothered me.”

“What changed after those hellish months?” he rasped. “Please, for God’s sake, tell me things got better after that.”

“They did. And what happened after that was Peter. My hus - my ex-husband. He - well, there’s really no other way to say this. He saved me, Ian. In more ways than you can possibly imagine.”

Ian refilled his brandy snifter and drank half the contents in one gulp. “Continue, Tessa. I’m sorry if I seem upset but - Christ, to think of you all alone that way…” His voice trailed off as he shuddered.

“It’s okay, honestly.” Tessa found it a bit odd that she was the one offering him comfort under the circumstances. But then, she already knew how the story ended.

She recounted how Peter had helped her, looked out for her, became a true friend, the only person in her life she’d ever been able to depend on.

He leaned back against a low table that held a marble chess set, his feet crossed at the ankles as he sipped his brandy. “And how long did this new arrangement last?”