CAINE'S P.O.V
As a child, there were moments that shaped who I was—moments that defined me.
There were two of them for me.
One was the day a boy had asked me why I didn't have a dad. I was four, I'd asked my mum and she just burst into tears. After she calmed down, she explained that some children just didn't have dads. It wasn't easy to understand as a child, but as I grew older and she told me about him, I did.
The second was when I told Trent who I was. He's just laughed and he said he knew. All those years, he knew and he didn't give a shit.
I'd grown up without a father present, but that only seemed to make his presence loom more. No one gave a shit about who my mother was, all they cared about was the bastard who'd gotten her pregnant.
"You can stop hovering," I told Nadine as she walked past the kitchen for the third time in the past five minutes. "I'm fine."
