Page 47 of The Road Trip Romance

“Your earliest memory,” he repeats.

I lean my head back on his chest as I think. Is he trying to distract me? Because it’s working.

“Uh, I was maybe two or three. My older brother, Casey, chased me and I fell and cut my head. I had to get five stitches,” I say.

“Really?” he asks.

I nod and take his hand, running his finger over the scar just above my left ear. He feels it and keeps his hand there.

“He felt horrible. So, the next day when he went with his friend to the county fair, he won me this enormous stuffed bear. I still have it,” I laugh.

“He sounds like a good brother,” Tate says.

I shrug. “He has his moments.”

“He lives near you?” Tate asks.

I shake my head. “He works in marketing up in Boston. But we see each other at Thanksgiving when our little sister, Henley, hosts it.”

“You’re lucky to have siblings,” Tate says quietly.

“You don’t, do you?” I ask as I frown, trying to remember what I know about Tate. He’s talked about his grandparents, but not much about his parents.

“No, at least not that I know of,” he answers.

“What’s your earliest memory?” I ask.

He’s quiet for a long beat and I want to recall my question because I can feel his entire body go rigid beneath me.

I lift my head and stare down at him. “What’s wrong?” I whisper as I search his eyes.

He swallows. “My earliest memory is CPS coming to my house,” he states.

Fuck. I didn’t know about that.

“I—I’m sorry,” I manage as I touch his cheek, wishing I hadn’t opened my big mouth.

“It’s OK. You didn’t know. No one does. I don’t talk about it. My records are sealed,” he says.

I lean my head back down and hug him. He hugs me back.

“You can talk about it if you want. I won’t tell anyone,” I offer. “Or you don’t have to,” I add quickly, realizing I sound like an idiot.

His hand rubs my arm. He’s quiet and I think he’s not going to talk, but then he does. “I was four. I had just started school. I know my mom sometimes acted weird, but I loved her. One day she forgot to pick me up because…being high does that to you. Anyhow, my teacher was worried, so she called CPS. And that was the start of the end. Or at least the end of my living with her. She went to rehab a few times. Got too fucked up later on and died in a car accident when I was twelve. My grandparents took me in when I was seven and raised me.”

“What about your dad?” I ask.

“I never met him. Hell, I don’t even know if he knows I existed. I’ve never gone looking. I just…I don’t want any more disappointment,” he admits.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I place a soft kiss on his chest. “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

Tate suddenly rolls us over and hovers over me, staring down at me with a look that I can’t decipher.

“Never be sorry, Sophia,” he says as he searches my eyes. I can see the hurt boy inside him. I haven’t noticed it before. Well, hell, I haven’t really looked. But so many things make sense now.

“Is…that why you want a family?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah.” He pauses and he tips his forehead down to mine.

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