Recognizing the copy of A Farewell to Arms, he laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

While he found the page they’d reached during their last session together, Peaches got herself comfortable by leaning against his side with her head on his shoulder, and her arm resting on his thigh. Emboldened, Carter put his arm around her waist and held her close. As Hemingway’s words rolled off his tongue, she snuggled closer, relaxing and melting into him. She was warm against the chill of the air. He put his cheek against her hair while rubbing his palm along her arm.

“I love hearing you read,” she whispered when he came to the end of the chapter. “Your voice is …”

Carter laid the book down on the damp grass. “What?”

“It’s familiar to me, like I know it better than my own.”

Carter’s heart stuttered. Of course she knew his voice. It was all he had thought to use to keep her calm the night her father had died. “And that’s a good thing?”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing.”

Her smile was wide and honest. Carter allowed his arms to encircle her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing her scent.

“Will you tell me more about the statue and your parents?”

Carter shifted and exhaled a grumbled, uncertain noise. “I, um, I don’t—”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she said. “I was just curious.”

Carter glanced at the statue again. He wanted to share with her. The only way they could possibly move forward with whatever the hell was happening between them would be if they knew things about each other. Hell, his family would be a good place to start.

He kept his eyes on hers, anxiety creeping up his spine, but all he saw was encouragement and affection. There was no judgment, no condescension, no trickery.

“My dad met my mom when they were eighteen,” he said through a long exhalation. “They were young, stupid, and from different sides of the tracks. My mom was from a very wealthy family. Her father—my grandfather, William Ford—owned one of the first communication companies in the country, WCS. James Carter, my father, on the other hand, had barely two cents to rub together and made what money he did have from playing music at clubs and painting.”

Carter rolled his eyes at the romance of it all. “That’s how he met my mother. She heard him playing piano one night and approached him.” He clicked his fingers. “That was that.”

Peaches played absentmindedly with the edge of his T-shirt; her silence encouraged him to tell her more, to tell her everything.

“To my mother’s family, my dad was never good enough. He was trouble, a bum, worthless, but my mother rebelled, and they stayed together. They got a cheap, crappy apartment after my grandfather cut off my mother’s money, and, within a year, she was pregnant with me.” Carter clasped the bridge of his nose, easing the tension headache that teased behind his eyes. “She hid the pregnancy for a long time.” Carter laughed without humor. He dropped his hand. “She hid me.”

Peaches’ hand found his chin and pulled his face up. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Exhausted with the tumult of emotion washing over him, Carter placed his forehead against hers. She leaned right back, strong and steady.

“My mother went back to her family,” he continued. “My father had no money and she ran back to them like a coward. My grandfather told her to give me up, and she fucking considered it. It was only because my father turned up at the family house, shouting and demanding his rights, that they relented. My grandfather didn’t want a scene or gossip for the family.”

“Carter.”

“Long story short, my grandmother—my mother’s mom—was disgusted with her daughter’s behavior. She fought for me and told her she had to face her responsibilities. A trust fund was drawn up for me, and full parental rights were given to my father.” He scoffed. In a small voice, he added, “The bitch didn’t even fight it. For me.”

“Unbeknownst to my grandfather,” he said with a self-satisfied smile, “my grandmother put her WCS shares in my name on the day I was born. She had lawyers draw up a secret, binding contract they’ve never been able to dissolve. My cousins are still trying to dissolve it and get me out of the company.” Peaches tensed. “They only discovered it the day she died. That was sixteen years ago, and even then her shares were worth a little under … fifty million dollars.”

He waited. Peaches blinked. “Fifty?” Carter nodded. “Million? Holy hell.” She shook her head, bewildered. “Carter, why are you here? You have so much going for you. With that amount of money, you could go anywhere, do whatever the hell you wanted, and start over.”

Carter shrugged. “I don’t have access to the bulk of it. It’s trussed up in shares and— I don’t care. It means exactly dick anyway. I don’t need their money.”

The Fords—specifically his cousin Austin—had managed to freeze his assets when Carter was first incarcerated. Fucker. Apparently, even as an adult, Carter was still gossip that was frowned upon by his family.

“Do you ever see your mother?”

Carter shook his head. “She died of cancer when I was eight.”

“Oh God, Carter, I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize for her,” he snapped. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” He took a deep breath. “All she did was deny me. She didn’t want me. The only reason she took me once every two weeks was because my grandmother ordered her to in her will. Ordered her to. She just liked pissing her father off. She went through a rebellious phase and got knocked up.”

“What about your father?”

Carter clenched his jaw. “He lives in Connecticut with his new wife. I don’t speak to him. Can we— Can we talk about something else?” He shifted his head sharply to the side so his ear touched his shoulder, and groaned when it gave a loud click. “I need to move.”

He stood, shaking his arms out. He had a lot of pent-up energy that needed releasing. He pulled out his pack of smokes and lit one, taking a huge pull. He turned to see Peaches sitting, watching him, gripping her shins while leaning her chin on her knees. He needed to divert the attention somehow. He’d never been comfortable under a microscope and, even though he knew that she wasn’t asking him to be nosy, telling Peaches personal stuff was still difficult for him.

“So, are you gonna tell me what happened this past week while you were away?”

Tit for tat and all that.

Peaches twisted her hands together awkwardly and pursed her lips. Carter waited, vaguely aware it had started raining again.

“My mother is a difficult woman,” she whispered.

Carter could only imagine how her mother reacted to her job. He wondered fleetingly how she’d react to her daughter’s choice in men.

“She still sees me as a nine-year-old kid instead of a twenty-five-year-old woman. She thinks anybody with a criminal history is capable of evil just like the men who killed my father.”

Carter flopped back against a tree, smoking silently.

Well. That answered that.

“She doesn’t agree with my life choices. She thinks I can’t make my own decisions, and the ones I do make are never the right ones, even my teaching.”

“You’re an amazing teacher, Peaches.”

“Thank you.” She dipped her head. “Well, it’s what my dad wanted for me.”

Carter couldn’t look away from his girl, peaceful and stunning in the twilight. They’d shared so much together over the past few hours, but Carter knew there was still so much he needed to tell her. He just didn’t have a clue how to broach any of it.

They needed to reconnect somehow, find what they had left in her kitchen when they’d cooked the omelettes. Determined, Carter threw his smoke away, pushed off from the tree, and walked to her. He held out his hand.

“What?” She cocked her head.

“Come here.” He grinned.

Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his. Her touch tingled and buzzed and shot up Carter’s arm like a lightning bolt. He pulled her to her feet and led her until they were standing next to the Alice statue. He pulled her close and held her left hand up in his right, with his other on her waist. Slowly, he began moving from side to side, watching confusion creep across her face.