“Got nothing going on. So I’m happy to play your driver.” When he paused, she looked back to find him watching her. “Besides, I made Des and Isa a promise.”
There was no mistaking his concern, and it threatened to weaken her white-knuckle grip on her grief. She tried to clear her throat, where a lump had taken up residence, and looked away. “I’ll be fine.”
“Mm-hm.” There was a hefty amount of disbelief in his response, but he only said, “You’ve got good friends.”
“The best,” she agreed before taking another sip from her cup.
“Makes me think if they’re worried enough that they asked someone they don’t know to have your back, maybe I should stick around.”
“They’re worrywarts.” And they have reasons for that worry.
His silence was loud with unvoiced opinions.
She sighed. “My family… they’re complicated.”
“Most are.”
That was true, but hers took the cake and threw it out the window. “Isa and Des don’t like my parents, which isn’t a surprise considering my parents are difficult to like.” Or love.
He cautiously stepped through the door she’d opened. “You mentioned you left home at sixteen.”
“Yeah.”
“Your choice or theirs?” There was no judgment in his voice, just curiosity.
“Depends on who you ask.” She didn’t try to mask her bitterness because it was an old wound and had left a scar. From the corner of her eye, she caught him turning to her. When he didn’t push for more, she added, “I’d say both of our choices. But if you ask them, they’ll tell you it was all me.”
“And your grandmother?”
Memories assaulted her, wrapping phantom arms around her heart in a painful embrace. “She’s the reason I was able to get out when I did.” The urge to hold that connection close spurred her to share more than she normally would. “My parents have very strong opinions on how their daughters’ lives should go, and they ensured that we didn’t think of deviating from the set path. My yaya, on the other hand, believed her granddaughters should walk their own roads, even if it meant collecting skinned knees and bruised hearts or taking an unintended path. The difference of opinions created a crack in our family that widened, especially after—” She stopped short, realizing what she was about to reveal.
“After…?” Grayson asked.
Cass shook her head and changed tracks. “After I got older. Mainly because I inherited my yaya’s stubborn independent streak, except stronger. This did not go over well with my parents, so when things came to a head and that crack turned into uncrossable divide, me and my yaya ended up on one side, my parents on the other.”
“Isa mentioned a sister. Where did she land?”
His question twisted the knife of well-worn guilt and sorrow. Cass had to swallow hard before answering. “Sofia got caught straddling the middle. She’d barely turned twelve when everything went down, so she didn’t really understand what was happening.” Honestly, neither had Cass. Not until later, when she finally confronted her mother. “What sucked worse was that I had my own damage to deal with, and by the time I had my shit together, it was too late to try and make amends. Whatever chance there was to salvage our relationship was long gone.” Which had left her with the second biggest regret of her life—failing her baby sister. The first regret… well, that was a hell she wasn’t revisiting. “Yaya tried to help. She’d take us both out to lunch, to shop, whatever, and did her best to mediate, but…” Her shoulders rose and fell in an uncomfortable shrug. “Sofia and I, we’re not close, but at least we’re cordial now.”
A car playing music with a heavy bass line drove past. Grayson waited until the thudding beats had faded then said, “I’m sorry.”
She managed a strained smile and did her best to nudge the familiar sorrow back into its box. “So am I, but that’s life, right?”
“Maybe, but doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Something in his tone told her he got it.
“What about your family? Do you have siblings?”
She caught a fleeting shadow that dimmed his normally sharp gaze before he looked down to his coffee cup. “Yeah, younger brother, older sister.” He brought the cup up, blew across the top, then took a sip.
She tucked away the fact that he didn’t mention parents. “Middle child, huh?” That earned her a chuckle. “Are you close?”
There was a wry twist to his lips. “Some days, yes. Others, I wish we weren’t.”
His dry tone made her laugh and dispelled the lingering traces of their earlier conversation. “I get that. When Isa and Des clash, I’ve learned to duck and cover.”
“I just get the hell out of the way.”
Cass huffed out a chuckle. “Smart.” She straightened, taking a moment to roll up to her toes and lift her arms—and cup—high as she arched her back. The knots that had set up shop in her lower back unwound, and she sighed in relief before releasing her stretch. “We should probably get going.”
