I roll my eyes. “Then later she had twins. So, needless to say, she can still get pregnant despite the fact it shouldn’t be possible.”
He shifts, sliding his hands down my waist to start drawing his own sets of lines.
“Isabelle wasn’t like me. She was wild, carefree, and didn’t give a damn about what the world thought of her. She was two years younger than me. She had this ability to outshine everyone and everything when she was around.”
Sighing, I lean back down, resting my head in the crook of his neck. I feel his lips on my forehead, and I snuggle into him even more. The day Isabelle died is the day I stopped smiling… until I met Drex. It’s also the day I stopped looking for rainbows in a sky full of nothing but dark clouds.
“One night she got busted at a frat party. She’d wanted me to go with her, but I’d told her I had studying to do. I’ll never forget how annoyed she was with me that night.
“My parents went to pick her up. I stayed at home with the twins like the good daughter I always tried to be. Mom and Dad were arguing with her about what she’d done, telling her that they’d had enough. Dad never saw the other car in his lane until it was too late. He tried to jerk out of the way, but it only caused most of the impact to hit the front corner where my mother was in the passenger seat.”
I breathe him in, finding comfort in his scent, before managing to finish.
“It was quick, according to the report. Mom suffered more damage, and barely survived. She still has a limp. My dad didn’t suffer any damage at all. Isabelle wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and it threw her from the back seat and out the front windshield. Oddly, she barely had a scratch on her, but her neck was broken.”
He holds me tighter, and I absorb the comfort. He kisses my head again, and I thread our fingers together while staring at the connection. It feels good to talk about it without being a sobbing mess.
“So Ben started dating you around the time your sister was killed?” he asks.
“About six months before the accident—give or take. Needless to say, he had to be patient after that. It was pretty much a non-existent relationship for a while, then I struggled to find the ability to stay with him after that. I felt like I owed him for being there for me though.”
“Do you feel like you have to be here with me?” he asks, sounding adorably vulnerable at the moment.
“No,” I answer honestly, looking up at him, then remember what is really going on. “Well, yes, considering the circumstances, but I also want to be here.”
He grunts, but doesn’t say anything else as he gets lost in his own thoughts.
“Why didn’t someone say something about my dad working for you sooner? I assume he did something bad, since you all think I’m so untrustworthy.”
It’s starting to sting that Drex doesn’t trust me. I don’t give a damn about the others, but I do care about what he thinks. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been months.
He tenses for a second, as if he’s deciding whether or not to tell me anything. Again, that sting is there, but I try to act unaffected.
“He stole from us. Close to eighty million. It would have ruined our club; that’s how substantial that loss could have been. We pay our guys on the side, and they have their own civilian jobs. We also use that money to fund our other business purchases, and we were in the middle of several at the time.”
He blows out a breath before continuing.
“We found out quickly the money was missing. I’d never trusted him, so I had been discreetly watching our accounts, since he had full access to them. It still amazes me that he managed to keep his family a secret, because I dug into every part of his life—or so I thought. He covered his ass really well, which lets me know he cared enough about you to keep you a secret.”
That doesn’t even sound like my father.
“I stole a pack of bubblegum once,” I say, probably sounding random. “When he figured it out, he had me take it back and apologize to the store clerk. He said stealing was the quickest way to lose your self-respect, and that he was raising me to be better than a thief.”
He purses his lips, looking down at me. “People change, Eve. My mother wasn’t always an addict. Life has a way of beating all the good shit out of you sometimes.”
He’s right. I sure as hell never thought my dad would take his own life and leave his family with no way to take care of ourselves.
My lips press against his chest, and I peer up once more. “Did it beat all the good out of you?”
His smile quirks up, and I run my fingers along his shoulder.