Page 11 of Colton
He nods like my answer is obvious. “Then why shouldn’t I help a good woman pull her family out of poverty? I have the money, so why the fuck not?”
“Why the fuck not, indeed?” I echo, considering him. “I don’t think most rich people think that way. According to every documentary I’ve ever seen, most of them got rich by holding tight to every dollar they have.”
He shrugs, curling the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what most rich people do. Don’t care either. We used to be poor. Now we’re not. And if we lose it all, we’ll just make more. So why not spend it?”
“I have so many questions,” I say, pressing my fingers to my temples. Colton’s laugh is joyful, warm, and so approachable. I want to hear more of it.
“Want the short version or the long version?” he asks.
“Short for now, but I reserve my right to hear the long story later, at a time of my choosing.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He says, still smiling. He rubs his hands together.
“Short version. Ok. Well, I spent time in foster care and was a bit of a troublemaker. I ended up at a group home. They called it a home, but it was more of a facility. It was huge. Over two hundred kids lived there.” His eyes darken. “It wasn’t a nice place. It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“What was it supposed to be?” I ask quietly.
Mia’s giggle draws Colt’s eye, bringing the sparkle back. “It’s supposed to be the last stop before Juvie.” He scratches his fingers through his short beard. “It was a pretty bleak place. We had to fend for ourselves, mostly. Then Ransom came along. He pulled us together. The nine Brash Brothers. We formed a gang, then a family, then a business.”
“I’ve heard of Brash Auto, of course. Everyone’s seen the ads and the garages. But I guess I didn’t realize business was that good.”
“It’s not really. The garages were our bread and butter for a long time. Then we added in parts. Then diversified into real estate. Now the garages are about 30% of our revenue.”
“And if you lose it all tomorrow?” I know what it’s like to lose nearly everything. I don’t get how he can be so casual about it.
He smiles, completely unconcerned. “Then we’ll start another business and grow it. The business is just the vehicle. As long as our family stays strong, the rest of it works itself out. But I’m not too worried about losing it all. We’re trying really fucking hard to spend it, but my brothers are wicked smart, so they just keep making more.”
As long as our family stays strong.
Well, there you go. My family’s never been strong. Maybe that’s why this is all so terrifying for me. I came from money, never truly understanding what it was like to scrape by until I lost everything. Money matters.
I want to ask him, but I also know it’s none of my business. Eyeing him, I wonder.
He laughs. “Ask honey. It’s not a secret.”
Sitting taller in my seat, I do it. “How much money do you have?”
“Billions,” he says with a shrug, reaching out to steal a cracker from Mia. She sees him coming and slaps his huge, calloused hand with her tiny one. “No! Bad,” she says, making him howl with laughter.
“Serves you right,” I mutter, watching him fall apart across the table from me. His whole body is laughing, hands gripping the table, legs flailing. It should be unattractive, but it’s not.
It’s really not.
Nothing about him is unattractive. His presence is so big, so alive. What must his life be like, that he can drop everything and jump on a plane, his own jet no less, to pick up a nobody like me?
“Why did you come?”
“You needed a ride.”
“Bullshit,” I say, pinning him with my stare. “Life has worn me the fuck out, Colt. I’m too old and too tired to play those stupid games. I just don’t want to. So can we agree to just be straight with each other, for however long we’re around each other, and if either of us doesn’t want to answer a question, we just say so?”
“You may feel old and worn out, but you have a fucking backbone of steel, don’t you?” he says, admiration clear in his eyes. I’ll take it; it sure beats the pity on his face earlier.
“Why did you come?” I push.
He sighs, shifting his gaze to the white clouds outside the window. But he answers. “I was there the day Holly learned what Brent and his fuckwad cop friends did to you. My brother Declan is a wiz at computers, and he’d found some pictures of you before…and after.” He looks at me, eyes grim. “You looked like two completely different people. The fact that you looked so…”
My stomach sinks, but I keep my gaze steady. “Old, and worn. It’s ok to say it.”
