Page 81 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

“Aria, let me explain.”

“Why? It seems fairly clear. You bought the flower shop for a half a million dollars—”

“Not quite that much.”

“Details,” I hissed. “Half a million dollars, then lied to me about the price. Why?”

“Because there’s no need for you to be saddled with an enormous debt. Not when I can afford it.”

“It’s not about the money!” I shouted, my voice bouncing off the walls. “You came to Oregon and told me you had a flower shop. Did you?”

His silence was the only answer I needed.

It slashed through my heart. It nearly dropped me to my knees.

All this time and I’d had such faith that Brody had always been honest. What else had he lied to me about?

“You lied to me.”

“I had to.”

I shook my head. “No, you didn’t. I would have moved. Without the flower shop, I still would have moved.”

“I couldn’t take that chance.” He waved to my belly. “I needed you here.”

And I would have been here. Simply because he’d asked to be involved in our child’s life. But he hadn’t given me that chance. He hadn’t given me his trust or his faith.

My chin began to quiver as my eyes flooded with hot, angry tears. Goddamn hormones. They were stealing my edge. “I am so mad at you right now. You don’t get to decide the course of my life. You don’t get to keep secrets from me. You’ve had months to tell me the truth. Months.”

“We didn’t think it was worth upset—”

“We?”

Brody flinched, realizing he’d just fucked up.

“Clara. She knew.”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Get out.” I turned my back to him before he could see the first tear fall.

“Aria—”

“I said get out.”

He stood there, for minutes, waiting. But when I didn’t turn, he blew out a long breath and left.

It wasn’t until the door’s bell jingled that I breathed. Then I let myself cry the unshed tears, for just a moment, before pulling myself together and wiping my face dry.

Nothing good came from crying. I’d learned that after my parents had died. Clara and I had been ten when our parents had been stolen from us. The pain never did go away. It had dulled with time, but like the junkyard, it was unforgettable.

Rivers of tears hadn’t brought them back to life. Rivers of tears hadn’t kept my uncle away. Rivers of tears hadn’t saved me from living in a junkyard at fifteen.

Tears were pointless.

Tears wouldn’t make Brody change.

Dirt. “I need dirt.”