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“Your father?”
“Died when I was ten.” I have no idea if he’s buying this. I mean, there’s an element of truth to it, but I’m being economical. Not only because his expression is hard to look at now.
“So why would your family want to find you? And what family?”
I shrug noncommittedly. “Dad owned a lot of land. I expect his siblings want it, I don’t know, but I don’t want to see any of them.”
“Land?”
“In England.”
“Your parents were wealthy?”
I nod. “And his family were not. The land’s just sitting there. Wasted.”
“So you lost your father when you were ten, your mum when you were thirteen.”
Another nod.
“So who looked after you?”
“I was taken into care.” I feel my voice crack and fight to get it under control, because I will never cry over that situation again. And that right there was a bare-faced lie. I don’t want to lie to him.
“How did they die, Pearl?”
“Dad drink driving,” I whisper. “My mum killed herself.”
I have to look away from Brad’s tense expression, hating that I can’t give him the complete picture. Hating that I’m exposing him. Exposing everyone I love just by being here.
Which is why I should leave.
“In the end,” I whisper, “she chose death over me, and I couldn’t even be angry with her for it.” I swallow down the lump in my throat, and Brad blows out his cheeks, pulling a hand through his hair. “Fucking hell.”
“Yeah,” I reply.
“My mum killed herself.” He frowns down at my stomach. “She killed herself because Uncle Carlo killed my dad for fucking around behind her back.”
“What?”
“She loved him so much, despite everything he did to her. She couldn’t live without him.”
I breathe back my shock. But she could be without Brad. That’s what he’s thinking but not saying. He felt abandoned. And I’m possibly one of the few people who truly understands how that feels. Because Mum chose death over me too.
Brad tilts his head, his face a mass of concentration. “I always thought she was a strong woman. Dad was a player, a fucking asshole to her, and she always thought she could change him.” He laughs under his breath. “She always said behind every good man is a good woman.” He looks up at me, and the pain in his eyes would put me on my arse if I wasn’t on my back. “She chose to be with him in hell and left me here wondering what the fuck I didn’t do to make her choose me.”
Oh . . . shit, I cannot sob on him. I can’t believe what he’s shared, and as I watch him, frowning to himself, I know he can’t believe he’s opened up to me too, especially when I haven’t asked him. I haven’t pressed. We’re the same, and yet so different.
“I’ve never told anyone that before.” He laughs, uncomfortable.
“Never?” But he and Danny are so close.
“Never.”
“Does it feel better to get it off your chest?” I ask, trying to inject a bit of lightness. “My hourly rate is very competitive.”
His nose wrinkles as he comes down, laying his body on the length of mine. “They won’t find you if you don’t want them to.”
Oh. And now we’re back to me. “I don’t want them to,” I whisper.
