And that’s sometimes how I feel about Brock.
Fucking a.
Maybe we have way, way, way more in common than I ever would have thought.
“I’m sure you’d be fine,” I said. “And as far as your Dad goes, you’re a Rogers girl. I don’t say that pejoratively. I mean you’re smart, sexy, and sassy. You could find someone to hire you. Shit, I’m no Ivy League grad, but I know it would be a smart choice to hire you.”
“You’re sweet,” Elizabeth said, putting a hand on my arm. “I know I need to do it. I just haven’t done it yet.”
I nodded silently and sipped my drink. A part of me said to keep asking questions, to learn more. A part of me warned myself that this was what had doomed my relationship with Tara, a refusal to actually get to know her.A refusal to know someone as well as I knew Stan and my father.
A refusal to get hurt again.
“But anyway, I’ll figure it out,” she said. “What are you thinking about?”
You have a chance here, Steele. Don’t…
“Nothing.”
Fuck it up.
“I know that’s not true,” Elizabeth said with a gentle laugh. “If you’re not going to tell me about what you’re thinking about, tell me about your family. Tara never said anything about it.”
“That’s because…”
I stopped myself from giving the stock answer. If Tara knew it, then Elizabeth certainly knew it. But just because I’d avoided the easy answer didn’t mean I had any comfort with giving her the real one. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“Mom’s a bitch. Dad’s not around.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Why? I shouldn’t ask that, I’m sorry. Just…”
I shook my head.
“It doesn’t matter.”
For a few seconds, I thought that was the end of that. We could move forward, flirt, maybe even kiss here.And then get her on the bike.
And then Elizabeth, as if summoning the strength to push forward, spoke with a clear voice.
“It does, Steele,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me everything right now. But Tara said you were always standoffish when it came to family matters. And, well, no surprise, but I kind of like you. And if we want to be anything more than just two kids dancing around each other, I need to know that I’m not following in my sister’s footsteps.”
She swallowed.
“I do that too much as it is.”
I nodded. No one knew this story. Not even Brock knew everything. Maybe Elizabeth was right. Maybe opening up would lead to something more than just the two of us flirting with each other like we were.
“A few years ago…”
I stopped myself. Just the mere beginning of that brought back too many horrible memories—the moment I heard about the accident, the moment I’d tried to get there, the moment Sheriff Davis…
“I can’t,” I said.
“Steele.”
“No, Elizabeth, no,” I said, but it didn’t have the usual vigor that my words did. “It’s too painful for me to think about, much less tell you. So do not ask me about it.”
Elizabeth looked at me for a long, long time, as if she was waiting for me to make eye contact with her. When I finally did…God, I just wanted to pull her in. She looked hurt, but curious.
