Page 63 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

“Yes, but that’s not what I meant. This, the conversation, is good. I almost enjoy your presence when you’re not snapping at me,” I teased.

She huffed. “Well, you haven’t tried to buy me anything in the past fifteen minutes, so it makes me less snappy.”

I chuckled. “Then we’ll avoid all discussion of material things.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You rarely talk about your parents. What happened to them? I only ask because I’d like to know. One day, this kid is going to ask the same question. It would be nice to know the answer before then.”

“Fair enough.” I set my fork down and wiped my mouth with a cloth napkin. “My mother is Coreen’s daughter. She got pregnant with me when she was seventeen. Needless to say, that didn’t go over well.”

Aria cringed. “I can’t see your grandmother happy. Ever. But especially with a teen pregnancy.”

“Mom didn’t go to college like her parents had planned. She didn’t go to work for Carmichael Communications like they’d planned. She didn’t give me up for adoption like they’d insisted.”

“How do you even know that? It seems cruel.”

“That’s my family.” I lifted a shoulder. “My grandfather was brutally forthcoming. When I was ten, he sat me down, and instead of telling me about the birds and the bees, he laid out exactly what my mother had done to disappoint him. And he did it in a way that I knew I had no choice but to fall in line. He assumed the role of my father that day.”

“And that didn’t bother your dad?”

“No, because my father would never argue or go against Grandfather’s wishes. My father married my mother and ditched his own last name for Carmichael. He saw my grandparents as his meal ticket, and if that meant giving up a kid, so be it.”

“You were only ten.” She gave me a sad smile. “I guess both of our lives changed at ten.”

“I guess they did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I look at Alastair and think I got the better end of the deal. My grandparents, despite all their threats, never cut my mother off. They bought her a house and provided a life for her and my father. Neither of my parents ever had a job. They never had responsibility. They remained teenagers in a sense because my grandparents enabled them. I went to live with my grandparents at ten, Alastair was only five. He stayed with our parents. And they spoiled him rotten.”

“That’s . . . sad.” She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t like Alastair and you’re making me feel bad for him.”

“Don’t.” I chuckled. “Maybe as a kid he couldn’t help himself, but he’s an adult and his choices are his own. He’s a dick because he wants to be a dick.”

“You said it.” She picked up her water and raised it to her lips. I stared, blatantly, as she drank, jealous of a glass because it got to touch her mouth. “So you moved in with your grandparents.”

“Technically. Though they sent me away to private schools, so I was rarely in their home. Only on school breaks and holidays.”

“And your parents? Did you see them?”

“At times. It became harder and harder to be around them as I got older. They were never going to grow up. They were never going to stop spending money and feeding bad habits. Especially Dad.”

“What habits?”

“The wrong ones.” Drugs. Booze. Women. “My parents died in a car accident.”

“You told me.”

“Dad was driving. He was high and drunk on their way to a casino. He veered off the road, lost control and slammed their vehicle into a tree going seventy miles per hour.”

Aria winced and closed her eyes. “God.”

“At least they didn’t hit another car.” Like a car carrying parents. “That was seven years ago.”

“Brody.” She stretched her hand out and covered my wrist. “I’m sorry.”