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He cupped my cheek and pulled my face to his chest. Tears spilled down my cheeks, leaving damp drops along his T-shirt. Needing to be closer, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and squeezed until little air could fill my lungs.

Closure.

After thirteen years, I finally had it.

But which was worse: resenting him, or the loneliness that crept into the empty cavern in my heart left by the fading anger?

**

HOW IN THE HELL WOULDI explain the brand-new fantastic truck when we got back?

Daddy and Bradley would put me through rounds of interrogation the moment we pulled up. Who knew what they would say.

Not that I cared, of course. I was a grown woman, dammit.

Shit. And there was the issue of how to pull up in the new truck and get Brenton out unnoticed. He hadn't said a word since we left the apartment over half an hour ago. Who knew what was going on in that mind of his. Our earlier talk obviously gave him a lot to think over.

I flipped the blinker on to turn down our county road. Each tick of the signal in the silent cab increased my already rapid heart rate.

“I should just let him out here,” I mumbled to myself. “Or give him the truck and I can walk.” Nervous energy had me giggling at the thought. “I could die before I got there from heat exhaustion, but hey, it would solve my problem—”

“I'm sitting right here you know. Listening.”

I slowed the truck to a stop and watched out the window as the dust from the road floated ahead of us in a big brown cloud. “I know, but this is my problem, not yours.”

“What's the issue? Your dad? Brother?”

“Everyone,” I said, still staring out the side window, pondering my options.

“I don't get it. Explain.”

With a deep breath in, I shifted the truck into Park and swiveled in the brown leather seat to face him. “After the wreck, you had me sign something saying I wouldn't talk to you again, wouldn't seek you out, wouldn't sue the family. In return, you paid for my medical bills and a lump sum of $150,000.”

“That's it?” He huffed a laugh and leaned against the door. “What a fucking cheap ass. I nearly kill you and offer up a hundred grand. No wonder you hate me.”

“Yeah, completely about the money, jackass. Anyway, if I break the agreement, if people see us, then I'm scared I'll be forced to pay it back. And I can't.” Reaching up, I tucked my unruly hair behind each ear. “I used it for school, all of it. Books, housing, classes, expenses. It ran out before I finished veterinary school, so I have a ton of student loans I'm still paying back. No way could I afford to pay that money back if I had to—”

“Fine.”

“What?”

“Consider part of our new agreement that you’ll help me, not caring who sees, and if it becomes an issue due to that old agreement, I'll pay what you owe.”

“You already gave me the truck, which was too much anyway—”

“Why are you fighting me on this?” Brenton leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console. “It's just money.”

“Because I work for what I have. It's not much, but what I have is mine. Sometimes I feel... indebted to your family because of the money I took. It felt dirty.”

Instead of responding, he leaned back in the seat, felt around the pocket of his shorts, and pulled out his phone. After pressing a few numbers, he held it to his left ear.

I opened my mouth to ask who he was calling but was hushed by a pointed look and a shake of his head.

“Landon. Graves. I need you to look into something for me. Thirteen years ago, I supposedly had the firm write up an agreement to keep a Rebeka Harding away from me. Locate it and email it to me. I want scans of the original documents, Landon. Make it happen.”

The phone clattered into the cup holder between us. Mouth still gaping, I looked from the phone back to him.

“Now that's taken care of. I'll get to the bottom of it, but don't worry about the money or legal piece.”