Page 10 of Home Stretch
“Yeah, my whole family is close. We all lived in the same small town. My dad and grandpa ran a mechanic shop in town.”
“Are you going to take over after you graduate?”
“No. We sold the garage a few years ago.”
“Ah, retirement?”
“No…” I trail off, not sure I want to bring the mood down this early in our date. However, I’m never going to keep anything from Malia. I almost lost her before I really had her, all due to a miscommunication. I won’t risk that ever again. Clearing my throat, I continue. “My dad was hit by a drunk driver, and he passed away. We, ah… we needed the money for bills.”
I can feel the sadness creeping into the car. It’s always the same whenever anyone learns about my dad, and I hate it.
“I’m so sorry, Kade. I had no idea.”
“I don’t talk about it much,” I say with a shrug. “But I want you to know me,” I finish, looking over at her.
“Thank you for trusting me,” she whispers, slipping her hand into mine. I lace our fingers together, drawing from her steady strength. This woman is somehow more incredible than I realized. I can’t wait to find out how much more of her there is to love.
I clear my throat as we head out of Sequoia and toward the National Park.
“I’m not close with my parents at all,” Malia says. “I wish I had parents or grandparents that I was close to. I know losing your father must have been incredibly difficult, but I’m glad you have good memories to hang on to.”
“What are your parents like?” I ask, needing to know everything about her.
“They’re snobs,” she says with a roll of her eyes. I can tell it’s so much more than that, but she doesn’t want to burden me with the details. Soon she’ll know I want every little thing from her, even the painful parts of her story. “Picture those guys from last night but like forty years older,” she adds.
“At least you never had to worry about money?”
Malia lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Money like that comes with strings. It always has,” she says bitterly. I squeeze her hand, encouraging her to continue. “They want me to fit into these boxes they’ve picked for me before I was even born. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m not what they want.”
“How is that possible?” What the fuck? How could anyone spend any amount of time with Malia and not love her instantly?
“You know, just…” she cuts herself off, bouncing a shoulder up and down like it’s no big deal. I see right through her tender heart, though. This means something to her, and she trusts me with it. I won’t let her down. “Like they want me to be skinny,” she whispers, as if afraid to draw attention to it. “Size zero skinny. My mom had me on all kinds of diets growing up, and when that didn’t work, the fat shaming began. Just in time for high school, so that set me back a bit.”
I’m about to call her mother some very un-gentlemanly words, but Malia is on a roll now, and I don’t want to stop her.
“They hate how bright my hair is, too. My dad wanted me to dye it blonde, saying blonde hair and blue eyes would be more of a draw. It took me a while to realize he meant a draw for other men. I mean, how sick is that? My own dad grooming me for marriage?” I grip the steering wheel, hating these people more with each word she says. “My parents hate how much I love baking and reading. They want me to care about fashion labels and shiny things, but I never have.”
“You’re perfect the way you are, Malia,” I finally say, unable to keep silent any longer. “Stunning. Magnificent. Your hair, your body… fuck me, angel, I’m so sorry you grew up doubting your worth. They’re idiots if they can’t see how incredible you are.”
She doesn’t say anything for a beat, and I wonder if I came on too strong. Before I get a chance to doubt myself any further, Malia whispers, “Thank you.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” I say softly, matching her tone. She smiles at another pet name, and I tuck that information away. My girl didn’t get a lot of love and attention growing up, and I plan to make up for that as soon as possible.
We drive in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the way that the sunlight filters through the trees overhead. We have another half hour of sunlight left, and I hit the gas, driving a little faster toward my favorite spot.
“Do you come out here often?” she asks. I nod.
“Yeah, usually about once a week. It’s a good place to think, and I like hiking.”
“I’ve never been, but I’ve been meaning to.”
“I’m glad I get to show it to you then,” I say with a grin as I pull onto the halfway hidden road and shift into park.
“I’ll get your door,” I say as I turn off the car and climb out.
There’s a large rock just a few feet away, and I brought a few flashlights and lanterns for us to use to see. I open her door first before I go to the trunk and grab the lights and cooler of food before going back to her side.
“Ready?”
