Page 44 of Shark’s Edge

“Well, so far, I’m enjoying spending time with you too, Ms. Gibson. Tell me more about your family.” I made a mental note to circle back at some point in the conversation to why she felt like she had to prove herself to people. For now, I would stick to lighter topics. “If Rio is your sister-in-law, you must have a brother? Older or younger?”

The twinkle in her eye could’ve lit the entire backyard. “I’m the youngest of five. My parents married young and wasted no time starting a family. Irish Catholic. Need I say more?”

“Was it good or bad having that many siblings?” Having just one sister, I often wondered what a large family would’ve been like.

“I love it. For the most part, I mean. I have four very protective brothers. I’ve seen the way you watch Vela. Imagine that feeling times four. Bram, Flynn, Sean, and Zander are all probably what would be called alpha males, I guess?” Her smile stayed in place even after she finished talking.

“Which one was brave enough to lasso Rio?” I grinned, thinking of partnering with that strong woman.

“That would be Sean. They moved to California first, and I followed the week after I graduated from high school. Came out to visit them spring break of my senior year and fell in love with the palm trees and sunshine. My heart came back to life after being dead for so long after . . . ” Her face fell into complete sadness.

I couldn’t resist taking her hand. She needed to be comforted. Whatever she was remembering caused great pain and grief. I brought the back of her fingers to my lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t even know what you’re saying that for.” She met my gaze, looking like she was near tears.

“Doesn’t matter. I can see the sorrow on your face. I can almost feel it from where I’m sitting. It was not my intention to drag up a bad memory.”

“Oh, it’s okay. It’s always right there.” She touched her chest, right over her heart and looked away. “Right under the surface, you know? Well, of course you don’t know. What am I saying?” She took a steadying breath and then continued. “Our mother passed away when I was in high school. Massive heart attack on our kitchen floor. It will be burned in my memory forever.”

“I do know.” My words were steady even though I spoke about the most significant pain I’d ever known.

“Hmm?” She shook her head slightly, trying to make sense of my remark.

“I know what you mean about the pain being right here.” I thumped on my own sternum. “All the damn time. Pia and I lost our mother when I was just seven.”

She snatched her hand back from mine to cover her mouth in horror. “Oh my goodness, you were just a baby. And that means Pia was just what?”

“Three.”

“So your father—”

“Became a sad-sack alcoholic.” I had to cut her off before she made him into some sort of hero he had never been. “I get the fact that he was brokenhearted. Not only did he lose the woman he loved but their newborn son as well. But he had two living children who needed him.” Brewing in my gut was the familiar anger that was always present when I thought about my father.

“He was neglectful on his best days, and then Cassiopeia was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes the same year. So instead of my father getting his shit together and being the parent he should’ve been, I had to learn how to monitor her sugar and inject her insulin. Because she would’ve died if she had to depend on him.”

By then, we had both finished our meals and were just sitting at the table, talking. I suggested we move to the more comfortable furniture near the fire pit. There was a sofa and love seat around the lava rock–filled ring, along with two high-backed chairs that swiveled on attached bases. All the furniture was arranged atop a coordinating earth-toned outdoor rug that tied the look together. Pia outdid herself with every project she took on around my house.

We sat side by side on the love seat after I lit the fire pit with the gas assistance and a few dry logs that were already arranged inside.

“Where is your father now? Do you have a relationship with him?” Somehow, she still held hope in her voice.

“Six feet under.”

Blank eyes stared back at me.

“He drank himself to death by the time I was sixteen. I raised Pia myself, begged the neighbors not to turn us in to the authorities so we wouldn’t be separated in foster care.”

“How did you manage that? You were just a boy. How did you earn money? Provide food and pay rent and all of that?”

I shrugged. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I’d been taking care of us for most of our lives already. My dad was worthless, even while he was alive. I learned to hustle on the streets of East LA when I was really young. That’s when I met Grant. He was a hustler too.”

A grin played on my lips as I remembered what a cocky asshole he had been. We’d thought we could take on the world. “I worked legit jobs too. It wasn’t only . . . ummm . . . questionable endeavors.”

I slid my arm behind her along the top of the sofa cushions so I could toy with her hair while we talked. I’d never felt such a strong need to touch a woman like I did with Abbigail.

“That’s unreal. You’re an amazing man, Sebastian. Really, just . . . wow.”

I looked away. “I did what I had to do. Some of it? Not so proud. Other parts? Damn proud. No matter what, though, like I said earlier, it made me who I am today.”