Page 44 of Losing Forever
I gesture to two stumps and sit on one.
She claims the other, tempting me with her long legs as she stretches them out in front of her.
I adjust myself in my shorts. “I know what you mean.”
“No, you don't, Mr. Charming.” She nudges my arm.
I laugh, but it lacks humor. “It's part of the show. Act charming and make them forget you’re the son of a criminal.”
“It's hard to hide yourself when the world knows who you are.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Is that why you moved here to work?” She picks up a stick the size of a pencil and draws circles in the gritty sand. “To get away?”
I nod when she glances up from her figure eight. “Is that why you moved to Florida?” I counter. Noah said her accident was all over the news in Seattle.
“Yes and no. I didn't like being known as the girl who survived a tragic accident and inherited a fortune, but I didn't want to leave my family's home, either. Eventually, my aunt, Lina, convinced me it'd be better to move, so I did.”
“What about the money? What'd you do with it? You're not using it or else you wouldn't be here.” I toss a pebble into the stone-circle firepit.
“Nothing. I don't want it. It's blood money. Something I got because my family died. I could never spend it.” She makes a sad laugh. “I tried donating all of it to people who lost loved ones in tragic accidents. Wives who lost husbands, kids who lost parents. Aunt Lina only let me donate a million. She invested the rest in case I need it one day.” She sighs, as if that day will never come.
“I know what you mean,” I admit, even though I never open up about this to anyone.
She stops drawing in the sand and stares at me. “How?”
“After my dad went to jail, I inherited a trust fund he set up in my name.” I toss another pebble into the firepit. “I don’t know how much is in there, other than it's a lot, but I won't touch it. It's dirty. Mob money. Guilt money for what my father did.”
“I’m sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.
“My attorney told me I’m stupid not to take it. My uncle thinks my life is perfect because of it, and I should be happy. Not one person has told me they’re sorry for what happened. Not even my mother.”
“Is she embarrassed?”
I toss another stone. “I doubt it. She knew about the embezzling and didn’t care. That was a surprise, learning both my parents had lied to me. According to my uncle, she’s interested in my inheritance, too. But then, Len’s always been money hungry. For all I know, he wants it for himself. I don’t know who to believe or who to trust, and my mom won’t talk to me, so…”
“That’s a lot to deal with,” she says in a sincere tone.
“Yeah.” I nod, surprised at how easy it is to talk to Braylee about this. “That’s why I don't speak to anyone in my family anymore.”
She frowns and stares forward, her gaze distant and unfocused. “I wish I had that choice. It's nice that you can talk to them if you decide you want to.”
Her soft words hit me like a punch to the gut. She can't ever talk to her family again. “Did you get along with your parents?”
Her gaze stays fixed on nothing. “On and off. I was a different person back then. Entitled and reactive, so we argued a lot. We were arguing right before the accident. For that, I'll forever be sorry.” Tears glisten in her pale-blue eyes.
Now, it's like a jackhammer is pounding my stomach. I curse and kneel beside her, catching a stray tear from her cheek. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought them up.”
Unfazed by my sudden nearness, she leans her head on my shoulder as I curl my arm around her delicate frame. The scent of strawberries and coconut sunblock wash over me, easing my tension.
“I'm not. I don’t mind talking about my family with you. Maybe because you know a similar pain.” She sounds less haunted. “It's comforting to share the same misery, even if it's wrong.”
“Why is it wrong?” I finger-comb her hair.
“I don't want you to be miserable.”
“When I'm with you, I think I’m my best.”
