Page 105 of Loving Taylor
"Yes, Jeff works for me," I answered.
I watched her mind tick over the information I had given her.
"I don't understand."
It was time to tell her everything. I let out a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair.
"I told you about my father." She nodded.
"While he was alive I'd never met him or had any contact with him, but when he died I inherited everything he had," I revealed. Her forehead creased, like she was having trouble piecing everything together. "His lawyer called me up out of the blue one day and told me about my inheritance."
"But what about his wife and kids?" she asked.
I had asked the same question when the lawyer had contacted me. For someone who hadn't wanted anything to do with me, it made no sense that he would leave everything he had to me.
"His wife died before him and they never had any kids. In his will he left me everything." There was no way to get the answers from a dead guy. I shrugged.
"Wow," she breathed.
"I didn't want to take the money, but I didn't have a choice. Slater and I were getting deeper into the gang and it was becoming more serious. We'd gone from petty crime to dealing drugs and we knew it was going to get worse. It was the only way to get us out before we got in... too deep."
She shot me a questioning look.
"I don't want to talk about it," I said, refusing to elaborate. "That part of my life is over. The money gave me the freedom to give myself a new life and I could help the people I cared about. Slater and I left the gang. Jeff—the guy who found you—left with us. Whenever I need something done, he is the guy I call."
"I'm not judging," she was quick to say and she covered the hand I was resting on my leg with hers. It strengthened the sense she was going to forgive me.
"I never wanted to be seen as a trust-fund baby. I wanted people to care for me, not for the money I had." I tried to explain why I hadn't mentioned it before. Money changed people and for most girls it would have been an incentive. But I knew it didn't matter to her.
The warmth of her hand on mine brought my attention back to her affectionate gesture and I covered hers, cocooning it within mine before I looked back to her.
"My mom had started to get sick. The years of alcohol abuse took its toll on her body. I've set her up with the best medical care money can buy. I try to visit her often, but it's hard trying to care for someone who never gave a shit about me until she sobered up. I want you to know that I never wanted to deal drugs. It wasn't something I was proud of," I told her.
She remained quiet and thoughtful.
"I know it's a lot to take in," I said as I stood up, unable to sit still because I was feeling so anxious. She stood up in front of me.
"It was hard to read your file," she said and I held my breath. "Seeing what you had to do to survive was difficult to comprehend."
It had been even harder to live. I nodded, understanding that the details of my past would be hard to stomach for most.
"I understand why you got so upset when you saw the folder and I understand why you ran," she said. Was her understanding enough to forgive me?
There was so much on the line and I could feel the tension in my shoulders. I dropped my gaze, feeling a momentary fear that I would lose her. I looked at the floor.
"Look at me," she instructed softly. I followed her command and met her gaze. The intensity of the look in her eyes was hypnotizing.
Was the knowledge that I had dealt drugs going to derail the future we could have?
