Page 35 of I Knew You
“In some ways. My life was never great unless it was with Whit and Grams and you. I don’t talk to my parents anymore.”
“Not at all?” Vince and Elsie Winchester were terrible people, but they were still his parents. I’d hoped they had gotten better over the years, and that their relationship had gotten better, too, for his sake.
“Nope. The why of it isn’t very easy, and maybe I’ll explain it someday. But I get what you’re saying about Whit’s money because I don’t want my parents’ money either. They’ve tried tothrow it at me, but I don’t want anything to do with inheritances or gifts, none of it. Everything my father has gained has come at the expense of so many people. I have a million-dollar trust fund from my grandfather, my Dad’s father, who was a good man and made his money honestly. That will be released when and if I get married. But all that’s going straight to Mill Creek Aid.”
“Mill Creek Aid?” I asked.
“It’s the foundation the community started after Dad sold the plant, and it closed down. They helped people get back on their feet after the closure, and they still do a lot of relief work in the county now. Every bit of my grandfather’s money will go to help the people it should, the lives my father ruined.”
I’d never heard of Mill Creek Aid. Had they helped us after Grams lost her job at the plant? She had never said.
“No one would begrudge you for keeping that money for yourself, for your future, or your own family.”
He shook his head. “I would never be able to live with myself. I don’t need it anyway.”
“What I meant?—”
He cut me off. “Let’s get back to the original conversation here. Whit is your brother, a good man, and not my parents. He loves you. He didn’t know how to work through his grief when Grams died. Neither of you were old enough to know how to keep yourselves together.”
But I didn’t want to switch subjects.
“What did they do to you?” I whispered. We both knew, with just one look into each other’s faces, that I was speaking of his parents. He hadn’t expected me to ask because his eyes widened, then softened as he took in my expression.
I’d heard what he said about Whit, and what he said meant a lot. But my heart was breaking for whatever caused Bram to cut off his parents. How bad had they been to him? Gramsknew, but she never said a word. She would only say that everyone had problems and would leave it at that.
Had they still been harming him as an adult, too?
“They aren’t good people, sweets,” he said, his timbre low. I was caught off guard by the nickname. Where had that come from?
“You think you can distract me with a cute nickname, but you are mistaken,” I lied. “I won’t beg you to tell me, but hopefully, one day, you’ll trust me enough to want to.”
He cast his eyes down, and my insides flip-flopped.
“It’s not that. I trust you,” he said. His hand covered mine on the tabletop. Electricity flowed from his skin to mine, and it was my turn to look stunned. “Now, how should we tackle today? Do you have a plan? If not, let’s make one.”
I tried to gather myself, but I couldn’t think. He squeezed my hand and removed his.
“You have too much to do. I can take care of everything myself,” I insisted. “Go to work. They need you there, I’m sure.”
“I think the forest will stay standing for one day,” he replied, getting to his feet and looking down at me with his charming smile. “I’m all yours.”
I did not want to admit it, but my heart was becoming entangled in knots that wouldn’t be easily undone. Although years had passed, we were still us—two souls with a connection that defied common sense.
Chapter Seven
Bram |September 30, 2024
Julianna returned from upstairs carrying her overnight bag, declaring she would stay at Grams’ house. I watched her hug Lakey’s neck, and a weird ache radiated in my chest.
I had no say in where she stayed or what she did, but I wanted her with me. It felt essential to keep an eye on her and her condition. Isn’t that what Whit would do?
Yeah, but Whit doesn’t want to stick his tongue down her throat.
We were miles down the road when she remarked on the color of the trees and how they were so much brighter in the mountains than in Charlotte. The scarlet leaves were her favorite, and when I told her the red color came from a specific pigment that was difficult for many trees to produce in bulk, she laughed.
“Of course, I love the most complicated color. You know a lot about trees, huh?”
“It’s my job,” I replied with a shrug, having to work to keepmy eyes on the road and not on her. “I majored in forestry. I loved it. I got to be outside a lot. Well, until the football injury, at least.”
