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He didn’t like the grilling. Oddly, didn’t put a stop to it. He told her, “At first, I was desperate to forget how much I loved Cassidy. Later, I was just desperate to feel. Something. Anything.”
Scarlet’s gaze dropped to her food and she picked at the remnants with her fork. Not eating it, though. Like she’d lost her appetite.
He’d heard the pain in his voice and could see it disturbed her. But there was something more. And he experienced a peculiar surge of dark pleasure when she told him, “I understand that sort of desperation. I felt it myself when my parents passed away. I was twelve.”
“And what became your vice?” he asked, instantly pulled into her trauma.
Her gaze snapped up and met his. Burned through him as she said, “Danger.”
“Scarlet…” His brow furrowed. His gut clenched.
“I instantly lost the fear of death.” Her eyes misted. “Because if I died, then I could join them. We could all be together again. A family.”
He let out a long breath. Rubbed the sudden knot at his nape. “What did you do?”
She tilted her chin, almost defiantly, and told him, “I started sticking up for the kids in my school who were being bullied. If someone got pushed around, I pushed back, instead of just walking away and letting it be another person’s problem. When I saw someone doing something suspicious or underhanded, I confronted them. But I also got a rush by taking more physical risks. You know, like standing in front of a speeding train to see if I could hold my ground or if I’d chicken out. Obviously, I always chickened out. But … trains became an addiction.”
His stomach twisted further. “Why trains?”
She broke the eye contact and stared off into the other room, as though debating how much she wanted to share. Or rather, how much she was capable of sharing. He suspected that was more accurate.
Sam knew from his own emotional tug-of-wars to just sit and let her take her time. Not force anything.
And eventually, she did come around. Her gaze returned to his. “My parents were killed in a train wreck,” she said. “A horrific one. They were in Europe investigating a case for the law firm my father worked for; my mother was consulting. They’d booked rail tickets from Switzerland into the Czech Republic in early spring. Living in Montana, you know how massive accumulations of snow can shift when the sun melts it and then the temperatures dip and freeze the banks, then more flurries build on top.”
“Oh, Jesus.” He had a good idea where this was headed.
She said, “They were on a mountain pass when either the give of all that accumulation or the vibration of the tracks triggered an avalanche. Took out the midsection of the train within seconds. Completely obliterated it.”
Sam’s heart wrenched. “They were in one of those cars.”
“No. Unfortunately.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Unfortunately?”
“Yes. Had they been, they would have died instantly. Instead, they were in the back. So they likely saw the avalanche as it hit. And then when it did, the inertia plowed the train off the tracks and over a cliff. Dragging both ends with the middle. My parents were alive when they plummeted several thousand feet. With no way to escape. They were trapped. And they must have been terrified, because they couldn’t save themselves or anyone else.”
Tears trickled down her flushed cheeks.
Sam shoved back his chair and went for the box of tissues, depositing it on the table at her elbow.
He returned to his seat. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Scarlet. I know you were devastated by their deaths. But to torture yourself over details like—”
“You didn’t do the same?” she challenged. “Still don’t?”
“Cassidy died in my arms.” That was all he said.
“Then you understand how deep hopelessness can cut. How it makes you do reckless things.”
He stared hard. “Tell me you’re not reckless anymore.”
“I’m not,” she said with conviction in her velvety tone. “What happened on that road this evening wasn’t recklessness. It was self-preservation. I knew slamming into that elk would have hurt much worse than putting my vehicle in a snowbank.”
“That’s very true.” He probed further, “What about with Michael?”
Scarlet gave a small smile through her tears. “That wasn’t recklessness, either, Sam. It was passion. Somehow, I sensed he needed to experience it as much as I did. You said yourself he’s selective. And he said he hadn’t been with anyone in a while. I believed him.”
Sam nodded. “He wouldn’t have any reason to lie about it.”
