He kept his arms snugged and held tight, hoping to share his warmth and strength, knowing she needed both. “I didn’t know that when I was little. What it meant.” Marc nodded, his chin to her hair. “We moved often. All over Ohio, a little in Pennsylvania.” Kayla paused. Her shoulders relaxed. “When I was small, she waitressed in a Greek diner. I remember a big dining room. The curtains were covered with flags and wheels. I don’t know how old I was then,” Kayla continued, steadier. “Five, maybe? I went to school, so I would have been five or six.” “Did you stay there long?” “I don’t think so. My next memories are of traveling from place to place with whatever guy my mom was seeing at the time.” Marc fought the clench of anger, understanding what Kayla didn’t say. “They’d stay for a bit, then move on. We ended up in Cleveland when I was almost eight.” “Whereabouts?” “Off Detroit Ave. I walked by lots of railroad tracks.” She went silent. Marc didn’t intrude.
