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“She probably loved this car more than she loved my father—which if you knew them before she got sick—was a lot. Not sure what she saw in him, but I suppose he was different with all of us before she died.”
I don’t miss the way he talks about his parents before she got sick. As if her illness changed the dynamics of everyone’s lives, including Seth’s. My lips turn down, and I hate myself for the ounce of sympathy that bubbles to the surface of my heart for the man who is as vile and ruthless as they come. Somehow love seems to humanize the worst souls.
“Will you tell me more about her?” It’s a loaded question. One that I’m not sure is fair to ask in the first place, but I can’t help myself. I want to know more about the man who takes his mother’s car out once a month as if she might return at any minute and ask for it back. I want to know about it all.
He sighs, and I just know deep down in my heart that he is about to turn me down. For some reason I can’t bear the thought, so I do something stupid. Something so incredibly stupid I’m sure I will regret it tomorrow. But I’m too enraptured by his story to care about what might happen.
“What if we make a deal?”
The corners of his lips lift. “I’m open to negotiations.”
“What’s something you want?” I drop the bomb back on his lap. I’ll let him be the one to decide what he wants most and then see if I’m up for the challenge.
“I want an equal exchange…” He pauses, and my breath stalls in my chest.
Another kiss? A real date?A blow job? The options are endless really. A warmth travels from my head to my toes at the thought of what he might choose.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll tell you about my mother if you tell me about your learning differences.”
If my life had a soundtrack, this is the moment the DJ scratches the record, making me feel like a total dud. The air escapes my lungs like a deflated balloon. What the hell kind of deal is that? And more specifically, how the hell did he find out?
I cross my arms and throw up a barrier. “Who told you?”
“No one.”
“Bullshit. Was it Cal?” I’m about to tell Declan to pull over and let me take over, solely so I could go find Cal and rip him a new asshole.
He shakes his head. “I found out on my own.”
“How?”
“I knew the signs.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “You expect me to believe that? Exactly how gullible do you think I am?”
His face softens. “My mom was the same way.”
“Your mom? The same one who was a history major?”
He clutches onto the steering with white-knuckled fists. “Just because she struggled with reading doesn’t mean she hated it.”
I feel like a dick for assuming otherwise. To be fair, I’m struggling to keep up with all this information. There is no way I can process Declan knowing about my dyslexia and his mother struggling with the same disorder all in one conversation.
“I should have known you would figure it out.”
“There was no reason for you to hide it in the first place.”
I clench my fists against my lap. “You don’t get to judge my choices.”
“I only want to understand them.” The softness of his voice tears me up inside.
I stay silent.
“Please.”
I release a shaky breath. Declan doesn’t saypleaseever, so it makes me weak enough to open up about my past.
