Page 14 of Follow Me Down

“At first, maybe a little. But it was also liberating. Link came with me, of course. And together we’ve managed to make a pretty decent life for ourselves.”

“Do you ever miss it? Your family, that kind of life?”

“I miss my sister but she comes to visit a few times a year and I talk to her often. As for my parents, that ship sailed long ago. No sense in living in regret over something I never had any power to change.”

“You have a sister?”

“Ellen.” He smiles and for the first time it seems natural and easy. “She’s three years younger than me.”

“Does she still live in Atlanta?”

“She does. My father recently named her C.O.O. of the company he owns. She’s been working there since she was old enough. Not bad for a girl who just turned twenty-five, huh?” He glances in my direction. “Unlike me, Ellen wanted nothing more than to go into business with my father, though some days I think she regrets it. But, one day it’ll all be hers.”

“I’ve always wanted a sister.” My hands fidget in my lap.

“Did you get a brother instead?”

“Nope. It’s just me.”

“And what about your parents? What do they do?”

“My dad’s in, uh, public service.” I keep it basic, hoping he doesn’t pry for more. It’s the truth technically.

“And your mom?” he presses when I don’t say more.

“She died when I was nine.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. It was a long time ago.” I shrug, the conversation getting a little too deep for my liking. I’m fine talking about him and his life but talking about myself isn’t something I have any desire to do. “What’s the name of the company your father owns?” Not that it matters, but I’m hoping to divert the topic back to him.

“Driscoll Atlantic.”

“Wait.” My eyes widen as I instantly recognize the name. My father did some business with them a couple of years back when they were looking to expand into North Carolina. The deal didn’t pan out, but still, what are the odds that our fathers know each other? “Your father owns Driscoll Atlantic?”

“I take it you’ve heard of it?” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

Heard of it? I’d have to be living under a rock not to have. The Driscoll’s are probably the wealthiest family in the state of Georgia, maybe even all the surrounding states to boot. They’re practically royalty. Not that any average eighteen-year-old girl would know that, but let’s face it, I’m not your average teenage girl.

And to think, he walked away from all of that... A guaranteed career, more money than he could probably ever spend in his lifetime. But then again, I know better than most that not everything is as glamourous as it may look to an outsider.

“I’ve heard of it.” I shrug, trying to mask my reaction.

Wow.Just wow.It’s one thing to know he broke free of his family to forge his own path, but a family like the Driscolls? I’m suddenly seeing this man in a much different light. I’m also realizing that it’s actually possible to break away, to be my own person. If he can do it, certainly I can too. I’m not sure it’s ever felt so obtainable before now.

What are the odds that we would share so much in common? Both from wealthy families. Both desperate to break away.

Not that my father is Driscoll kind of wealthy, but he’s powerful. And in this day and age, power can sometimes buy you more than money.

“So, is that what all this is about?” I gesture to the arm closest to me that’s sleeved from shoulder to hand in tattoos. “A way of rebelling?”

With what I know of them, I wouldn’t have pegged Titus as someone who came from a family like the Driscolls. Other than his staggering good looks, he seems like your average, run of the mill guy. Well, maybe a little rougher around the edges than most. But definitely not someone who came from an empire worth billions. From his cabin, to this truck, to the casual way he dresses, nothing about him screams money. Then again, I guess that’s kind of the point.

“What these?” He holds up his arm and briefly examines it before placing his hand back on the steering wheel. “No. I didn’t get my first one until after I had left.”

“Well, you sure have a lot now,” I needlessly point out.

“I guess you could say they’re an outlet for me.” He slows the truck, turning left at a stop sign. “What about you? Do you have any tattoos?”

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