Page 21 of Two Steps Ahead

“I like to hear you talk about your family and see you laugh. Will you tell me more?” She walked to the front of the boat so she could sit closer to him.

“Sheila and Clint Patterson—Mom and Dad to me and my brothers—are definitely unique. There aren’t many people who would adopt four traumatized adolescent boys. I’m sure it wasn’t always easy for them. They didn’t have much money or space in their house. But they were patient and consistent with their love and acceptance, and eventually...” He shrugged, trailing off.

“Eventually they became Mom and Dad,” she finished for him.

“Yes, exactly. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that family isn’t always blood, and blood isn’t always family.” He touched a small circular scar on his shoulder as he said it.

She’d noticed similar ones on his back and chest too, and had wondered what they were, but hadn’t wanted to ask.

He saw her looking at them. “Cigarette burns.” His voice was stoic.

It took her a second to process that, then horror set in. “From your biological parents?”

“My mom died when I was five. My dad—my biological father, he was never adad—wasn’t thrilled about being saddled with a young kid. He drank. He was a mean drunk.”

She reached for his hand, grateful when he didn’t pull away. She knew that talking in general was hard for him. Talking about this had to be nearly impossible. But just like he’d been there for her this morning, she wanted him to know she was here for him now in whatever way he would let her be.

“The first time he burned me was on my ninth birthday. But, ultimately, those marks were what caught the attention of social services and got me out of there, so I’m kind of glad it happened. And eventually got me into the greatest family ever, albeit via a long and twisted road.”

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but settled for holding his hands. “I’m glad you have a family. That you have wonderful parents and a set of identical brothers.” She nudged him with her shoulder.

He brought their entwined hands up to his lips and kissed the back of her palm. “Thank you.”

“And I have to admit I’m a little jealous. I always wanted a big family. Obviously, by the way I monopolize every conversation, I needed someone to talk to.”

His brown eyes met hers. “How about if I take you to meet my giant talkative family sometime? You won’t be able to get a word in edgewise.”

“I’d like that.”

And with that, he seemed to be all talked out. They finished their sandwiches and cranked the speed up on the boat a little more. She took him to the north side of the lake to another house her father owned, one more similar to the ornate mansion at Lake Austin.

As they pulled closer, Weston slowed the boat down. The house and grounds, so grandiose and impressive, sat empty, like it did almost year-round.

Plenty of money, plenty of room...no family. A pretty close metaphor for her life. She had her dad, but their relationship was often strained. She had money, but was still often alone.

She didn’t want Weston to see her poor-little-rich-girl attitude, so she pulled out her camera and started taking random pictures of the house. She was hardly concentrating on it at all, just allowing her mind and body to do what was almost muscle memory. She took shots of the grounds, the windows, the roof.

Nothing that she really wanted photographs of.

“Hey.” Weston’s hand touching hers on the camera finally had her dropping it. She was out of film anyway. No more hiding.

“Hey.” She tried to sound chipper but failed miserably.

“You’re sad.” Those deep brown eyes met and held hers. She couldn’t look away.

“What I am is ridiculous. Feeling sorry for myself when right in front of us is proof of my family’s riches.”

“We both know money is not what makes someone rich. And it’s okay to be sad when you know you need something but you don’t have it. It’s like your abduction—just because it wasn’t the worst that could’ve happened doesn’t mean it wasn’t bad.”

“You know, for someone who doesn’t talk very much, you sure have a way with words.”

He smiled. Gah, thatdimple. “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you let me make you a special dinner tonight and then you can really be impressed?”

The words set butterflies a’flight in her stomach. When was the last time she’d had someone cook a special meal for her because they’d wanted to? When was the last time she’dwantedsomeone to?

She was still feeling those same butterflies a few hours later when they made it back to their side of the lake, docked the boat and went inside. After a shower, she wished she had something better to wear than jeans and a T-shirt. Something more feminine and a little sexy.

She hadn’t been prepared for Weston when she’d packed for this trip.

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