Page 48 of Toxic
I clear my throat. “No, it isn’t that at all. It’s just I’m realizing I don’t know you as well as I thoughtIdid.”
He tips my chin up with a finger. “You know me better than just about anyone, littlemouse.”
That statement says way more than he probably intended, and I hate that I feel bad for him. I hardly know him at all, and if I know him better than anyone else, it means he has almost no one in his life. He doesn’t need, want, or deserve my pity, so I just say, “I didn’t know anyofthat.”
He shrugs. “It’s justhistory.”
“Yeah, but I feel like you know everythingaboutme.”
He shoots me a smile, which I don’t return. “Fine. But only if you answer one of mine in return.Remember?”
I scowl, which causes him to laugh. “Fine. What do you want to know? I can promise you it won’t be as exciting as asecretpast.”
He levels me with a look. “Everything about you interests me, Tessa, but we’ll start with something easy. Why did you decide to become anurse?”
I blow out a deep breath and smile a tiny smile. “I guess I didn’t want to become my parents. They were both minimum wage deadbeats with no options. Nursing always seemed like a steady job with a good income. Somethingrespectable.”
“Why theprison?”
I laugh. “Well, there aren’t many employment opportunities in that part of Michigan, or didn’t you notice? At first, it was only supposed to be temporary until I could afford enough money for a move to the city or somewhere warmer. Then I met Vic, and well, you knowtherest.”
“What were yourparentslike?”
With a groan, I say, “Is that what you want to know? It isn’t what you’d call a happystory.”
“The real ones hardly ever are. Yes, it’s what I wanttoknow.”
“Fine, but first you have to answer one of my questions.” He nods, and I say, “You mentioned you got into a lot of trouble when you wereyounger.Why?”
“You already know why. My dad was a drunk abusive son of a bitch, and my mom was more interested in her next score than raisingason.”
My hand reaches out to touch him of it’s own volition, needing to touch him, to soothe. Having grown up in a house just the same, I don’t have to imagine what it was like, Ialreadyknow.
I may not be sure about what the hell we’re doing, or why I can’t stay away, but he hadn’t been lying when he told me about his parents. If I doubted it then, I don’t doubt it now. “I’msorry.”
He shrugs. “It is whatitis.”
“I think I get another question because you slipped inseveral.”
“Fairenough.”
“What happened to your parents? Are they still alive?” I almost hold my breath. Getting Gracin to talk, to open up like this, feels like a fragile opportunity and I don’t want toruinit.
“No, theyaren’t.”
I shouldn’t, but I ask anyway. “Whathappened?”
He looks at me, tugs off his glasses, and rubs a hand over his face. “Are you sure you wanna know thesethings?”
There’s a pause while I consider, but it’s a short one. “Yes. After what happened in Michigan, I honestly couldn’t think worse of you, so it isn’t like you’re going to ruin your firstimpression.”
At first, I think I may have insulted him, but then he smiles. “I guess you’re right, but remember, youasked.”
His left hand lies on the top of the steering wheel, and he rests his right elbow on the center console between us. As he talks, I stare at his arms, at his tattoos, and clutch my own hands between my legs to keep from touching him or pulling him closetome.
“My dad liked to get drunk, like I said, and he had a fondness for cards. He’d get wasted and piss away whatever money he had on him, sometimes more. When he’d win, he’d win big, and things would be great for a while. If he didn’t spend his earnings on more booze and lousy bets, my mom stole it to finance her meth habit. When they were both dry, she’d sell her body to come up with the money for hernextfix.”
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until white spots dance in front of my eyes. Slowly, so Gracin won’t notice, I let out the breath and draw infreshair.