“No,” he confessed. “The girls I’ve dated have been pretty wholesome. You know, the type you can bring home to mom.”
His words evoked a spark of hurt, even though she knew it wasn’t a specific dig at her. Yes, he’d met her family, but that was because they were putting on a show for them. There was no reason for Brett to meet his parents.
Except…she suspected that even if they had an official relationship, he still wouldn’t take her to meet them. She was the furthest thing from wholesome. Hell, she’d literally chased someone out of a grocery aisle five minutes ago.
“What are your parents like?” She halted five feet from the line so they were out of earshot of the other customers.
Uneasiness creased his features, the way it always seemed to do when he mentioned his family. He’d told her about his brother dying, but other than that, she had no idea what his family life was like.
“They’re…nice,” he said vaguely. “But very traditional about some things.”
“Like what?”
“You know, marriage, kids, white picket fences. They’ve been married for forty years, and honestly? They really do have the perfect relationship. They hardly ever fight, they tell each other everything, they’re madly in love.” He paused, a faraway light in his eyes. “They want the same thing for me. They want me to be smart and successful, marry the perfect woman, have perfect children.”
Brett carefully edged in. “Like I said last week, perfection doesn’t exist.”
“Tell that to them.” No mistaking the bitterness hardening his features.
And the…guilt?
God, sometimes it was impossible to read this man.
“But what about what you want?” she pointed out. “I mean, it’s nice that they want all these things for you, but do you want to get married and have kids?”
“Sure. One day.” His jaw tensed, and then he corrected himself. “No, I want it now.”
Brett raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
With a pained expression, he curled his hands over the metal edge of the cart. “Really. That’s what I’m looking for in my next relationship—someone who’s ready to settle down.”
The sting returned, which only added to her confusion. The reminder that she wasn’t in a relationship with AJ troubled her more than she wanted to admit, but not as much as the conflicting emotions flashing on his face. He was deeply upset, yet she couldn’t figure out why.
And his next revelation just made her head spin harder.
“Look, I owe it to them, okay?”
Brett didn’t get a chance to respond. He was already gone, steering the cart toward the line. The elderly woman ahead of them had just paid for her groceries, which meant they were next in line, leaving Brett no opportunity to question him.
She swallowed her distress and impatience as they rang the groceries through, but the second they stepped outside, she couldn’t hold back any longer.
“What do you mean, you owe it to them?”
AJ didn’t meet her eyes as he unlocked the Jeep. A second later, he was loading the bags in the back, acting like she wasn’t even there.
But Brett refused to let it go.
“What did you mean by that?” she demanded, scrambling into the passenger’s seat as AJ started the car. “Why exactly do you think you owe your parents something?”
A groove appeared in his forehead. Slowly, he glanced over, acknowledging her presence.
“Why?” she pressed.
His voice came out in an angry rush. “Because I’m the reason their son died.”
Chapter Eleven
Christ. The last thing AJ wanted to do was bare his soul in the parking lot of a Fresh Mart, but once the confession flew out, he couldn’t take it back.
In the passenger seat, Brett was staring at him with wide eyes. Her jaw had fallen open, and he saw her swallowing repeatedly as she tried to make sense of what he’d said.
When she spoke, her voice was low and gentle. “Your brother Joey?”
AJ nodded. Took a breath. It was difficult, though, when agony had slashed his insides to pieces. “He died because of me.”
Brett reached across the center console and squeezed his hand. “Tell me what happened.”
Fuck. No. He didn’t want to relive that night. He’d never told anyone about it before. Reed, Gage, Darcy…all they knew was that he’d had an older brother who’d died before the Walshes had moved to Boston, but that was it. Nobody knew the whole story.
Nobody knew the truth.
“Tell me,” Brett repeated.
Her fingers laced through his, grounding him to her, easing the massive load of guilt crushing his chest.