“What, that you trust them? No. Not at all.” He grabbed my hand and placed it between his. “It makes me want to try harder so you’ll let me in.”
“I’ve already let you in more than I should,” I mumbled.
“Share something with me,” he demanded as he passed me what was left of his cake. I knew if I didn’t answer him, it would ruin the night. He told me he trusted me, let me call the shots, and shared adorable facts that made me want to keep him.
“My father is in jail.” I took a breath and messed with my fork instead of looking at him. “He’s stolen from me countless times, so I don’t tell him or my mom where I live now.” Another breath. “My favorite color is gray because it’s not black and can be paired with any color. I love heavy metal music because it drowns out my thoughts, and I organize my notes by the colors of the rainbow.”
He flashed a smile, but it clashed with the anger in his eyes. “I will come back to the final things you said, but your father? Has he hurt you? Besides using you as a fucking errand girl with drugs?”
I paused and those gray eyes turned lethal. “Not really. Once he slapped me, and that was the last time I ever gave him a chance.”
His grip on my hand tightened, and he took a hard, loud swallow. “So when you say you lost your family, you don’t mean death.”
“My brother is so addicted to alcohol and drugs that the brother I knew as a kid is essentially gone. I tried my entire teenage years to help him. I worked to send him to some clinic, but he blew it on meth and liquor. My dad prefers crimes to earn money, and my mom wanders the streets, refusing to get sober.”
“I’m sorry.”
He said the words with so much sincerity that my eyes stung. There wasn’t any pity in his expression, and that meant the world to me. He kissed the palm of my hand and stared hard at me. I remained silent, nervous about his reaction, but then he smiled.
“What?”
“Metalhead, huh? Didn’t peg you for that.”
“I’m a box of surprises.”
“Yes, you certainly are and I can’t seem to stop wanting to discover them.”
14
Brooks
Shit.
She didn’t want a savior, but the more she revealed, the more I wanted to be something for her. A steady place to land, someone she could trust to just be there without taking over.
She didn’t look ashamed when she talked about her family. I had expected her to be—so many people carried their pasts like scars they wanted to hide.
But Michelle? She looked angry. She looked sad. And more than anything, she looked determined. Like her past wasn’t just something she had survived. It was fuel.
I wanted to pull her into me, tuck her against my chest and tell her she didn’t have to fight so hard all the time. But I knew that would only make her push me away faster.
So instead, I smiled. I held her hand. I focused on the better parts of her confessions.
“Gray, huh?” I teased, keeping my tone light. “Like Fifty Shades of?”
She rolled her eyes. “Gray is the new black.”
“No, it’s not.”
She snorted, and the sound hit me harder than it should have. I didn’t just like hearing her laugh. I liked knowing I was the reason for it. I wanted to hear it again and again.
“What kind of dogs would you get?” she asked, still smiling, her voice softer now.
I studied her, a slow grin forming. “You’re too good at moving attention off yourself. It’s a real talent.”
She shrugged, unbothered. “Well? The dogs?”
“Black labs. Preferably siblings. They’re great with kids and stupidly loyal.”
