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“What is this about? Karina and you fall out so you get a rebound? This little thing to get your wild slide out? Make her jealous?” Mom seemed hopeful.
“Why do you have to be so condescending?” I asked.
“It was a simple line of questioning,” Dad said, now laughing slightly. “The fact that she was so on edge just shows how off she is. I know the Walsh family if you can call them that. A family with a dysfunctional chop shop business and people full of drugs. Good for her for trying to better herself but that doesn’t excuse the attitude.”
“You know what the Denvers said about her. I mean, it was just over a year ago but she got in some trouble. She’s trying to better herself, sure, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior then or now,” my mom said.
“You dished it and she gave it back,” I said. “Now excuse me, I’m going to walk us back to our cars.”
Dad only laughed, and Mom mumbled something about calling Karina’s mother. I stole a glance at the dryer and did a double-take when I saw that it was still full of her clothes. Maybe it hadn’t finished drying.
“Eliza?” I knocked on my own door. “Eliza, I’m sorry,” I said as I entered. “They’re rude and annoying and take a while to warm up to people.”
She wasn’t there. Her boots were gone though and my stomach sank. I raced out of my room, pulling on my shoes. “Gonna borrow your car,” I announced, grabbing the keys from the countertop. “Eliza took off and I’m going to try to catch her.”
“Without saying goodbye?” Mom asked, clearly appalled. “That is rather rude.”
“So is shit-talking about her grandparents and education.”
“Trask,” my dad grabbed my arm and looked at me with his cold eyes. I’d seen him look at my older brother like that a hundred times, but he’d never given me that glare before. Jude would have been proud. “We are going to talk about this and the disrespect when you get home.”
“I’m sure we will.”
15
ELIZA
Ihad barely gotten into Trask’s room before I pulled on my boots and slipped out the window. I kept my pace quick, nearly running the quarter mile back to my car. I told myself it was because I wanted to get there before dark, not because I was fleeing his parents. How could their arrogant asses produce such a kind guy like Trask? What if I just didn’t know Trask well enough, and he was just like them? I pushed the thought away and swallowed a lump in my throat. Damn him for lulling me into a secure environment just to have it explode in my face. I wasn’t prepared for those assholes.
I reached my car and thanked the lucky stars it started on the first try. I was halfway down the road when Trask came driving up the road in some fancy SUV. His window was down despite the cold. He clearly saw me but I did my best to act like I hadn’t seen him. I just continued driving right past him.
The long driveway was covered by snow and gravel and I was surprised to find the shop lights on in my grandfather’s shed. I should have gone out there and to see if he’d passed out on the floor or if he simply forgot to lock up but the sounds of gravel crunching turned my attention back to the driveway.
Trask was driving too fast and pulled to a near screeching halt behind my car. He stepped out. My face flamed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. I was supposed to give him some warning. Instead, he stood a few feet from me, taking in the dilapidated double-wide and scattered cars around the yard.
“You live here?” His voice was dripping with absolute disbelief.
“Yes.” I refused to lower my head.
“I didn’t know.”
“No,” I said. “You didn’t. Because I wasn’t ready to share that part of my life yet. But maybe this will give my stories, if you read them, some context.”
“I can help you,” he said, taking a step toward me.
“I’m not a charity case!” I snapped. It was too loud and I looked over my shoulder to the shop to see if I’d woken Grandpa. I looked back at Trask and his face was a mix of emotions, Sadness? Understanding? Shame? “I’ve been here since I was twelve. Dumped on their doorstep and I’ve made something of myself. Or at least I’m trying to. But you said you wouldn’t look at me differently when you got to know the real me and based on that sick expression on your face you are as much of a liar as you are entitled. So just go. I don’t want to be your fun little plaything. I don’t want to be baggage you didn’t sign up for.” The words spilled from my lips. This wasn’t just about him seeing me here. This was all of my insecurity and hesitation being thrown at him.
“I was just surprised, Eliza.” He took another step forward, and I took another back. “We aren’t going to do the ‘he said she said’ act. We are going to talk about things, none of that melodramatic miscommunication. Eliza, please listen to me when I say that I still want this, I still want to know you. And I’ve been open with you, with what I want. Fucking vulnerable. Give me the same courtesy and let me decide if you’re baggage. Let me decide if you’re worth it. Don’t put labels on yourself that I didn’t fucking make.”
He closed the gap and gripped my arms. I fought and lost the battle with a flinch. He noticed. “That makes my blood boil. I haven’t pushed you, but Iknowwhy you cower. So trust me when I say the next time you wear a handprint, I will fucking cut off the hand that did that to you.”
“Trask.”
“Listen to me, please. I want to see where this goes. But I won’t lie down and let you determine all the parameters of this relationship. I will push to get to know you. You are more than where you sleep at night and who raised you. You’ll tell me everything, someday. But I will not allow you to hide parts of yourself from me, that’s not what beingall inmeans. So, one last time, are you all in or not?”
My throat constricted, and he looked at me with such fierce eyes, never breaking eye contact. My chest squeezed, and the words tumbled from my mouth. “I’m in.”
He wrapped me up in his arms and I breathed in his scent, that sandalwood, and something else. “Wanna introduce me?” he whispered in my ear and I let out a rather undignified snort.
