Irreplaceable (Underneath it All Series: Book Three) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) by Ava Claire

used the opportunity to inject some humor into a serious conversation. Anything to put a little distance between me and the cocky, terrified kid I’d been.
    "Left into Lucille's?" When I eyed her, she looked ready to call me on my subject change, but she gave me a quiet smile instead.
    "I don't think Lucille would appreciate that very much." She sniffed and drummed her free hand on her opposite knee. Another tell that she was just as anxious about this journey as I was. "Tell me more about The Robersons."
    It was a flash of light in pitch darkness and blood red anger. It didn't make sharing that piece, or my past, any easier. I hated pulling my hand from hers but going there would require both hands on the wheel and a steely eyed focus that blurred when we touched. It required going back to a time when the joke was on me, with foster parents either reaching the end of their rope, or me abandoning ship on my own. "The Robersons were actually just Mr. Roberson. He was a retired Marine and he looked and lived the part. He lived in a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, complete with a pit bull that kept my caseworker in her car out of fear for her life." I chuckled to myself, remembering Ms. Jackson's shriek as Monster came bolting from the cabin. White as snow but far from whimsical and soft, he growled at the car to show it who was the top dog. Ms. Jackson collected herself long enough to give me a pat on the shoulder and wish me luck. I'd been terrified too, but I'd played the part of the disaffected teen well and jerked the door open before she could see that my hand was trembling. I figure death by dog was a hell of a way to go out. "He was damn near seven feet tall and built like a fridge,” I pushed on. “To complete his look, Mr. Roberson was decked out in a heather gray Marines tee and black khakis with combat boots. Before Monster could tackle me, he let out a whistle and the dog immediately sprinted back to him. He asked me a question that I'll never forget: Do you want to live, or do you want to die?." I got a chill just remembering the question. And the military like precision he'd asked it. "Ms. Jackson was long gone and cell phones were out of the question," I continued. "Considering we were out in the middle of the woods, I decided that I could run and hope for the best, or answer his question."
    I paused at the next light and smiled when I realized Sadie was so engrossed in my story that she was practically back in the woods with me. She could smell the pine. See the smoke that rose from the chimney and faded into the waning blue sky. Taste my fear.
    She shook her head, her cheeks turning pink when she realized I was still waiting on her to navigate. "Make the next left, then you'll drive until you see a shitty house with a shitty gate surrounded by homeowners who give a damn."
    "Burn," I winked, continuing down the road, taking a moment to draw a few breaths. When was the last time I talked about Mr. Roberson? I couldn't remember, but it was enough to make my chest ache.
    "So what happened? What was your answer?" Sadie probed.
    "Well, I was in the woods with some survivalist dude who probably had loads of spots picked out for dead bodies, so I said I wanted to live," I answered. "He grunted okay and ordered me to follow him. Monster marched behind him first and I fell in step. I learned that living with Mr. Roberson meant hard work, going to school, getting all As, and doing my chores. We alternated nights cooking and after dinner, he would always kick back in his recliner and read the paper. There was no TV, the only music he had was old Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyls, and even though he was surrounded by pictures of his family, he never talked about them."
    The end of our story was nigh, and when I made a left, I knew we were drawing closer to Sadie's story; the home she grew up in and ran away from the first chance she got. "I can count on two hands the number of conversations we had. Man of few words? Mr. Roberson