Page 22 of Steel Beauty

She nods, her smile tinged with a sharper edge. “Exactly. Honestly, they showed me what to do in life by teaching me whatnotto do.”

“I don’t mean to judge people I don’t know, but that doesn’t sound like the best way to parent a child.”

She waves me off with a laugh. “Oh, don’t worry—I judge them all the time.”

Leaning forward, she props her chin on her hand, an amused glint in her eye. “The first eighteen years of my life would make a successful sitcom.”

I shake my head, wondering how she can find humor in it. “You left home at eighteen?”

“Oh, absolutely. When I got the chance to go to college, I didn’t think twice.” She pauses, her expression softening. “Someone I loved very much passed away and left me his estate. It was a bittersweet blessing... though my mom took the car for herself despite it being mine.”

“Wait, your mom stole the car you inherited?”

“Yeah,” she says with a small, humorless laugh. “That’s exactly what she did.”

She says it so matter-of-factly, but there’s something deeper in her eyes. Perhaps pain?

“I decided that if she could livewithit, I could livewithoutit. So I used what was left of the inheritance to get out and start fresh. College was my escape. My chance to finally breathe and find myself. It was the first time in my life I felt truly happy. That’s also where I met Violet—my best friend. We both work at Soul Sync now. She stayed back in Charleston while I took this assignment in Sydney.”

She’s only spoken of her mother and grandmother. “What about your dad?”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “He was also sixteen when I was born… and mostly absent from my life.”

I recall something odd she mentioned earlier. “You said you’re not exactly an only child?”

A smirk tugs at her lips, but without any real humor. “Yeah, my dad has a slew of kids with a bunch of different baby mamas. It’s very messy.”

“And your mom?” I ask.

“No more kids after me. Robin knew she wasn’t cut out for motherhood, and I thank God she had the sense to realize that early on. She made sure another kid never came along and disrupted her life.”

The heaviness in her voice makes me think twice. Some things are better left unsaid, and I’m not about to push.

She takes a slow sip of her drink, her gaze drifting to some far-off point. “Whoever the man of the moment was, he always became my mom’s whole world. Men are like shiny objects to her—once the sparkle fades, so does her interest. I figured that out pretty early on.”

She shifts in her seat, a faint smile softening her expression as her words take on a thoughtful, almost wistful note. “I guess it runs in the family. My grandmother wasn’t any less complicated than my mom. But I don’t hold it against them. They each had their own trauma, and I’ve come to terms with that.” She meets my gaze. “A long time ago, I decided I needed peace more than their expressions of regret.”

There’s a quiet wisdom in her words that surprises me. Her emotional intelligence—especially where her parents are concerned—is remarkable. She’s learned to see their flaws, their mistakes, and the consequences of their past doings without letting any of it define her.

“Enough about me. What about you? What was your childhood like?”

Guilt tugs at me as I think about what she’s shared. Compared to her stories, my childhood was a dream, filled with love, chaos, and laughter. It feels almost wrong to talk about it.

“I told you I’ve got five siblings, right? Three brothers and two sisters.”

She nods, a soft smile touching her lips. “Yes, you told me.”

“My parents are amazing. I grew up in two worlds. My dad’s Swedish, and my tina is Samoan. And trust me… those two cultures couldn’t be more different.”

Charleston tilts her head, intrigued. “Yourtina?”

“Tina means mum in Samoan.”

“How long has your dad lived in Australia?”

“Over forty years. I only got to experience the Swedish side of my heritage during visits to Sweden with him, meeting his family and seeing where he grew up.”

She laughs, the sound light and genuine. “The closest thing I have to a cultural tradition is bad decisions, yard sales, and perfecting a potato-chip sandwich by the time I was seven.”

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