Page 88 of Seeds of Malice

My stomach flips. I turn back toward the window, not wanting to talk about it. I never have before, and I don't see why I need to now.

Dax reminds me, "I thought we weren't going to have secrets between us."

I close my eyes, my chest tightening.

"Okay, I guess you're going to hold secrets from me, and I'm going to be honest with you. How fair," he accuses and starts the car again.

That sounds unfair. So I turn back and put my hand on his arm. "Wait."

He keeps the car in park with the engine running and slowly looks at me. "I'm listening."

I confess, "I don't like to talk about why my father didn't work. But he did try. It wasn't his fault."

Dax arches his eyebrow. He softens his voice. "Oh? How wasn't it his fault?"

"He's not lazy. Even when he didn't work, it's not like we went hungry. I always had everything I needed, and he did look for work," I ramble.

Dax releases a breath, and it hits me that he's genuinely concerned. "Okay. That's good to hear, because the thought of you starving bothers me."

"I didn't starve," I assure him.

"Okay, well, why didn't he work?"

My stomach dives. I hate what my mother did to us. I try to collect my thoughts, staring at my fingers.

Dax adds, "Please let me in, Ivy. I told you about my father and me. I meant it when I said I didn't want any secrets between us. Please. You can trust me."

He's right. I can trust him.

I lift my chin and pin my gaze on his. "My mom left us."

Sympathy fills his expression. He furrows his forehead. "What do you mean your mom left?"

I swallow hard, admitting what I've never said to anyone. And the sting somehow hurts worse than I thought it could. "She left us. She wanted more than my father could give her."

"Because he wasn't working," Dax says.

My defenses go back up. I shake my head hard. "No, my father was working. He had a great job, but my mom always wanted more. She didn't want to live in West Virginia. So, she met some guy and just took off."

"Oh, Ivy. That must've been really hard for you," Dax says.

"It was," I admit. "And my dad, he..." I swallow and continue, "After my mom left, he was a wreck for a while. I can't blame him. But he had savings. We didn't starve or go without any necessities."

Dax gets out of the car and comes around to my side. He flings open the door and reaches in for me. I get out, and he hugs me tightly as soon as I'm on my toes, murmuring, "I'm sorry, baby girl. You deserve better than that."

"My dad's a good person. He's a really hard worker," I reiterate.

"Shh. I'm sure he's good. And I know he works hard. I'm sorry I said otherwise," Dax states.

I sniffle to stop myself from crying.

"Have you talked to your mom since?"

More rejection fills me. It's raw, and I hate how it never gets better. It's always a scab that becomes an open wound whenever I think about what my mother did.

I answer, "No. She left, and that was it."

Dax tightens his hold on me. "I'm sorry." He pulls back and slides his hand through my hair. "Do you want to know something?"

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