Taylor

He closed the door and turned to face me.

"You read the file." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

I bit my lip as I nodded. Several seconds passed in silence. There was so much to sort out between us and I didn't know where to start. His eyes watched me for the slightest emotion to gauge how I'd taken the information.

"There wasn't a lot in that file that my imagination hadn't already conjured up," I began to say. "I know which part you were scared I would find out about."

"Dealing drugs," he finished for me and I saw the resignation in his face.

I nodded. The guys who'd murdered my parents had been high on drugs at the time they'd committed the crime. That was the reason why he'd felt I wouldn't be able to forgive him for it.

"Why?" I asked, needing him to explain it to me. A guy who dealt drugs didn't fit in with the person who'd watched me the night my drink got spiked. He dropped his gaze to the floor.

"I've told you about some of my crappy childhood," he began to explain as he lifted his eyes to mine. In them I saw the small boy who didn't know what it was like to be loved.

"While my mom was drowning her sorrows with an endless supply of alcohol, I was left to fend for myself."

It was hard to think of him as a small boy with no one to look after him. It was heartbreaking to listen to.

"Slater was pretty much in the same situation I was. His father was a drug addict and his mom could barely make ends meet. Whatever money his mom made went to pay for the drugs his father needed."

It made me sad to think that children grew up in situations like that. I'd always taken for granted my loving parents and my happy childhood up to the point where my parents had died.

"We got involved with a gang."

He paused for a moment.

"There were no options. We did what we had to, to survive," he finished.

Listening to his childhood made my heart ache.

"I'm sorry you had to grow up like that," I said softly, meaning what I said. I couldn't comprehend it.

"I'm sorry too."

He held my gaze and I watched as his tongue flickered against his lip ring.

"We didn't enjoy doing any of the things that were expected of us," he explained. "But there was no walking away from it—we needed the money."

"Are you still working for this gang?" I asked. Was that why Jeff worked for him? I didn't know how I felt about it if he was still in the gang.

"No," he said, shaking his head. I felt relieved.

"Connor said Jeff worked for you?" I asked, wanting to know the story behind that.

I was tired and I yawned as I waited for him to answer the question.

"You're tired," he stated. "Why don't you sit down?"

I looked around before I sat down on his bed, facing him. He pulled up a chair in front of me and sat down.

"Yes, Jeff works for me," he answered.

That didn't fit in with what I knew about him and it made me wonder how well I knew this guy whom I'd fallen in love with.

"I don't understand."

He let out a deep breath as he ran his hand through his hair.

"I told you about my father," he started and I nodded.

"While he was alive I'd never met him or had any contact with him, but when he died I inherited everything he had," he revealed, watching me closely for a reaction. My forehead creased as I tried to take that piece of information in.

"His lawyer called me up out of the blue one day and told me about my inheritance."

"But what about his wife and kids?" I asked. It sounded strange that the guy who'd fathered him and who hadn't wanted anything to do with him or his mother would leave him everything he had.

"His wife died before him and they never had any kids. In his will he left me everything," he explained with a shrug. He obviously didn't understand it either.

"Wow," was all I could say. A guy who hadn't wanted anything to do with him in life had left Sin everything he'd owned. Talk about messed up.

"I didn't want to take the money, but I didn't have a choice. Slater and I were getting deeper into the gang and it was becoming more serious. We'd gone from petty crime to dealing drugs and we knew it was going to get worse. It was the only way to get us out before we got in... too deep."

I didn't like the sound of that so I shot him a questioning look.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, refusing to elaborate. "That part of my life is over. The money gave me the freedom to give myself a new life and I could help the people I cared about. Slater and I left the gang. Jeff—the guy who found you—left with us. Whenever I need something done, he is the guy I call."

Jeff had fit the image I'd always carried of a gangster. It had probably been the reason why I'd struggled to trust him when he'd first found me. But despite my mistrust, he'd saved me.

"I'm not judging," I quickly said as I reached out to cover his hand with mine. I didn't want him to think he had to explain to me why he'd taken the money. It didn't taint the picture I had of him in my heart.

"I never wanted to be seen as a trust-fund baby. I wanted people to care for me, not for the money I had."

His statement explained why no one had any idea he was well-off. It didn't matter to me. Money gave you freedom, but it never guaranteed happiness. His gaze dropped to my hand that covered his. His other hand covered mine and he looked at me.

"My mom had started to get sick. The years of alcohol abuse took its toll on her body. I've set her up with the best medical care money can buy. I try to visit her often, but it's hard trying to care for someone who never gave a shit about me until she sobered up."

I didn't understand that at all. Both of my parents had loved me unconditionally—the way parents were supposed to love their children.

"I want you to know that I never wanted to deal drugs. It wasn't something I was proud of," he said with sadness in his eyes. I wanted to hold him tight and tell him everything would be okay.

"I know it's a lot to take in," he said as he stood up. I stood up.

"It was hard to read your file," I replied. "Seeing what you had to do to survive was difficult to comprehend."

It made me angry that his mother and Slater's parents had done that to them—left them alone in the world to fend for themselves. It was heartbreaking.

He looked solemn as he nodded his head.

"I understand why you got so upset when you saw the folder and I understand why you ran," I said, feeling the emotions tied to those two events begin to creep up and take hold of me.

He dropped his gaze, unable to look at me anymore.

"Look at me," I whispered, needing to tell him how I felt about it.

His eyes lifted to mine and I felt my heart ache again at the broken look he gave me. He was still expecting me to walk away from him.