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I try to keep the shock off my face and out of my voice. “Didn’t her coworkers mind?”
“Nah. I was a quiet kid. Give me a few toy cars or whatever and I’d keep myself entertained for hours.”
He says it fondly but an air of sadness creeps into the story. Picturing him as a child sitting on the floor of some dirty strip club rolling a few Hot Wheels around leaves an ache in my chest.
“Your love of vehicles started young,” I say, trying to coax a smile from him.
The corners of his mouth curve slightly. “You could say that.”
“So it wasn’t a bad experience?”
He shrugs. “Looking back at it as an adult, it was a shitty place.” He stares me straight in the eyes. “I can’t say she was wrong for taking me there, though. Not when her only other option was to leave me home alone.”
I nod quickly. Got it. I won’t be passing judgment on his mother.
“The owners were creeps,” he continues. “Customers were pigs. The girls all stuck together, though. There was no competitive bullshit. In a way, they were family. So when Mom was on stage, whoever was in the dressing room looked out for me.”
“That was nice of them.” Wow, that sounds lame, but I’m not sure what else to say. I can’t imagine thinking it’s okay to let a child hang out backstage at a strip club. But I don’t want to insult Dex’s mother when he already explained she had no other options.
“It wasn’t ideal,” he says as if he read my mind. “We run Crystal Ball as clean as possible and I still wouldn’t be okay with our girls bringing in their kids. But we also pay them fairly so they can afford sitters or whatever.”
“Where is your mom now?”Please don’t say she still dances.
He glances down and briefly closes his eyes. “She died when I was in high school. She workedsohard to get herself out of the life, then couldn’t even enjoy her success.”
“I’m so sorry.” God, we have more in common than I realized. I reach out and rest my hand over his. He closes his fingers around mine. “What happened to you then?”
“My grandparents took me in.” He shakes his head. “But I already hated them for forcing my mom to struggle for so many years. So, I was a bit of an asshole, you know?”
“You’d also just lost your mother,” I say gently. I understand all too well that desire to lash out at the world after losing people close to you.
His jaw sets in a firm, unforgiving line. “I met Grinder and Rock. They brought me into the club. My brothers were there for me…” he clears his throat, “when I needed them. The MC became my family.”
“Chosen family can be more powerful than blood,” I murmur.
His eyes widen and he nods slowly. “Few people understand that on a deep level.”
“I…I don’t have a lot of either—blood or chosen family. Libby’s all I have left. And a few friends who’ve been there for me.”
“You learn fast who your real friends are when life goes sideways.”
“True,” I whisper. “Friends of my parents said they’d always ‘be there’ for us but after the funeral, we rarely heard from them again.”
“That’s rough.” He hesitates as if he has a question.
My stomach clenches in anticipation. I can’t handle talking about my parents’ deaths. Not tonight.
DEX
“Was that too much?” Emily asks quickly. “Did I ask too many questions?”
I cup her cheek, staring into her anxious eyes. Is she trying to deflect attention away from talking aboutherparents? I wouldn’t force her to tell me something she’s not ready to talk about. Besides, I’m too fucking happy she seems to be accepting everything I’ve shared with her tonight.
“No. Not at all,” I answer. “It means a lot to me that you want to know. That you want to make things work.”
She bites her lip.
“You can always ask me anything, Emily.” I brush my thumb over her cheek.
