Page 32 of Reckless Love

“You know what guerilla warfare is?”

“I’m not stupid, Stephen. I know lots of things.”

He meets my gaze across the table, and his has softened. “I have never, not once in my life, thought you were stupid. You’ve always been brilliant. You just don’t let a lot of people see that.”

Warmth spreads through my body at the tenderness in his gaze and how earnest he is when he says I’m brilliant. He’s right that I can put up a façade that’s not exactly accurate, and it’s comforting that someone cares to see through it.

We set up the next game, and I take longer over my moves so I can pepper him with questions. His walls seem to be lower tonight, which is what I was hoping for, and I’m the sort to take advantage of the barrier going down, even a little.

“When did your mom get diagnosed with MS?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer at first, peering intently at the board before making a move. I’m worried his defenses will go back up, but he says, “About six years ago.”

I can’t imagine him leaving the island if the news came before he went wherever he went. “And your dad’s accident?”

He rubs his face and then settles his forearms on the table again. “Almost two years ago.”

“And your accident?” I barely whisper the words.

“Mrs. Santos,” he says, his tone chiding.

“Can you please stop calling me that? If you can’t stand to say my name, then at least call me Ms. Tucker. That’s who I am.”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Your dad was in a car accident? He must have gotten some insurance money.”

“You’re really asking about their finances right now?” He slides one of his pieces closer to my side with his index finger.

“I like knowing things,” I say with a shrug and slide one of my pieces forward, not really caring whether I win a third time. This conversation is more important. “Always have.”

“Knowledge is power,” he says, his tone wry.

“I am not my mother.” I bristle.

He meets my gaze. “I know who you are.”

The comment isn’t an accusation but a balm, a comfort. In truth, there was a time when Stephen knew me better than anyone else in the world. He got the best and worst of me, unfiltered.

“The person who hit my dad died in the accident, and she didn’t have any assets or insurance. Illegal, but that was the way that cookie crumbled. Can’t get blood from a stone.”

I consider my next question. At any moment, he could close up again, and I’d be the one trying to get blood from a stone. “That’s why Vanessa works at The Nile?”

“Nursing care isn’t cheap. As you know, I bought into the Bellerive division of Owen’s security firm. Eventually, that’ll bring more financial security, but we’re not there yet.”

“Your sister was going to school for drama or something, wasn’t she?”

“She was.” His voice is tight. “Dropped out.”

“To look after all of you?” I deliberately include him, and he gives me a sharp look.

“To help,” he says. “When my finances are solid again and I can look after Mom and Dad on my own, she’ll go back.”

“Reckless is doing well. I could—”

“Absolutely not.” He rises from his seat, and he gathers up the game pieces, not even bothering to finish this round, even though he’s winning.

“I can help.” I cover his hand with mine, trying to stay his cleanup efforts, but he shakes me off. I sit back, giving him the space he wants. “With the company, I’m not stuck with the rules of the trust. I can help. Let me help.”