Page 69 of Steel Beauty

She chuckles, settling back into her seat. “So, when I was little, Robin didn’t have a car. She always borrowed Charlene’s—a black 1978 Firebird, like the one Burt Reynolds drove inSmokey and the Bandit.” She pauses, giving me a sidelong look. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

I offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry, not a clue.”

She waves a hand, dismissing it. “I’ll show you later.” A mischievous glint dances in her eyes before she continues. “Anyway, that car was fast. And Robin and Charlene both drove it like a bat out of hell.”

I pause for a moment, taken aback by the way she speaks about these women who raised her. She always calls her mother Robin and her grandmother Charlene. It’s not something I’ve heard often—most people would say Mom or Mum, Grandma or Nan. There must be a reason behind it.

For now, I let it go. It doesn’t feel like the moment to ask.

She leans forward, her energy picking up, each word flowing with vibrant rhythm. “There was this gravel road we used to drive down, and it split into a Y. Right at the split, the road widened, and the gravel was thick—perfect for what she liked to do.”

Her eyes are full of fondness. “Every time we got to that spot, Robin would crank this song up as loud as it would go and ask me, ‘Do you want me to do it, baby?’” Charleston’s laughter bubbles up, rich and unfiltered. “And there I was, standing in the passenger seat—not the back seat where a kid is supposed to be—shouting for her to do it.”

My curiosity is piqued. “Dowhatexactly?”

She gives me a playful, almost daring look. “Do you know what gravel drifting is?”

“Enlighten me.”

Her hands move animatedly, like she’s back in that Firebird, as she tells the story. “It’s when you whip the car into a spin on gravel—kind of like drifting, but messier. Robin would nail it every time, sending the tires sliding perfectly over the gravel in this wild spin.” She shakes her head, laughing. “Honestly, I’m lucky she didn’t kill me. I could’ve flown right out of those T-tops.”

My eyes widen at the image forming in my mind. “That sounds bloody dangerous.”

A shadow of seriousness crosses her face. “It was very dangerous.”

The recklessness of it sits heavy with me. It’s hard to reconcile that a parent would place their child in that kind of danger. But then I remember—Robin was just a kid herself when Charleston was born. Maybe she didn’t know better, or maybe she simply didn’t think it through.

Charleston’s expression softens, her words filled with quiet determination. “I’ll tell you this much—I’d never put my child in danger like that. Not ever.”

There isn’t a careless bone in Charleston’s body. That much, I know. Everything she does is deliberate—and thoughtful—from the way she speaks to the way she moves through the world. Recklessness isn’t in her nature. If she says she’ll protect her future children, I believe her.

But something in her words sticks with me.My child.It’s the first time she’s mentioned having children.

“Sounds like you’ve thought about having kids someday.” I keep the question casual, not wanting to press too much.

She shrugs, her gaze drifting to the horizon. “Yeah, maybe… if the circumstances were right.”

The moment feels right to ask the question that’s been on my mind. “You told me you weren’t looking for a husband. Is that because you don’t want one at all? Or because it doesn’t fit into your life right now?”

She pauses, her expression thoughtful as she takes her time to answer. “I grew up watching a cycle with Robin, Charlene and the men who came through the revolving door of our trailer. They’d show up, stick around long enough to get what they wanted, and then they were gone.” Her words lower, tinged with an unspoken pain. “But it wasn’t one-sided. Robin and Charlene used those men too for whatever they could get out of them. It was a messy situation.”

Her gaze fixates on the horizon as she continues, “I don’t want to be like that. I will never depend on a man to take care of me, and I’ll never be at a man’s mercy. I will always stand on my own two feet and handle whatever comes my way.”

Her words settle between us, and I take a moment to consider what it must be like for her—or for any woman—to carry that kind of fear, that determination to never rely on someone else. “I understand your need to be independent, but having a partner to do life with doesn’t make you weak. The right man will standwithyou, not above you. A relationship should never be aboutneedingsomeone. It’s about choosing to share the load so neither of you has to carry everything alone.”

She goes quiet, her brow furrowed in thought. After a moment, she nods slowly. “That’s a really good point, JC. I’ve never thought of it that way before.”

She doesn’t say anything else right away, just gazes out over the water, the corners of her mouth curving into a quiet, reflective smile. Her hand brushes against mine, and she gives it a light squeeze. “Thank you for showing me a different point of view.”

It’s not a grand declaration or some life-changing epiphany. It’s a small, shared moment between us. And for now, that’s more than enough.

Chapter16

Alex Sebring

The yacht glides to a stop,the soft rattle of the anchor chain cutting through the stillness of the night. Newcastle’s coastline lies in the distance—a jagged silhouette softened by the faint glow of city lights. Close enough to glimpse, yet far enough to feel like a world apart. Out here, we’re untouchable. Hidden. Exactly how I want it.

I step onto the deck, the night air cool against my skin, rich with the scent of salt and freedom. The sea is calm, gently rocking the boat in a rhythm that reminds me we’re floating in our own private world. Overhead, countless stars spill across the sky, and the moon stretches a silver path across the water. It’s a quiet invitation to nowhere but here.

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