TEN
Lea
Okay, so if the office was kinda creepy on a normal night, it was downright horror movie-worthy during a storm. Seriously, with the power flickering in and out, I was starting to expect someone to jump out at me with a knife and slit my throat then play with my body afterward.
I got a bit morbid when I was scared.
Really, when they were predicting a hurricane on the news, I kind-of figured it was like how they predicted massive flooding from the last thunderstorm… and it didn’t even drizzle. Alarmists, the lot of them. So I packed my bag and headed to work figuring there would be even more business with people warned to stay inside. I wasn’t exactly wrong there, but it was really hard to work up a convincing fake orgasm when the entire building sounded like it was seconds away from ripping off its foundation. I swear when the wind really gusted, the panes of glass seemed to wobble a little in their frames. I couldn’t see much, the windows being up high, but it sounded like the weather man was right when he said it was going to be the storm of a decade. Not being familiar with the weather patterns in the area, I had to take him at his word.
“Oh, yes! Oh!” I groaned, standing and craning my neck to look out the glass front door. “Oh, ow. That hurts. Your dick is too big!”
Yeah, that shit didn’t happen in real life.
Especially seeing as most guys who wanted you to tell them that their dick was too big tended to have genuine reason to worry about their size.
Above me, the rain pounded down on the roof, an unending impossible amount of it.
“Oh, yes. Give it to me!”
Really, I wasn’t exactly sure it would be any safer at my apartment building since I was pretty convinced that when the wind blew gently, the entire building did a wave, but still, I was kind-of starting to regret coming into the office. “Oh. Yes. Yes. Yes!”
Some of the guys made really hysterical noises when they came. I was convinced if they ever had managed to get a real woman into bed, and made those noises, yeah… she would laugh right in their face.
But I wasn’t in a laughing mood as I hung up the phone and ran across the office to really get a look outside. The streetlights out front were unreliable in the best of times, and of course they chose that night to be on strike. Something blew across the street and slammed into a car parked a few over from mine, making the alarm start blaring and my heart fly into my throat.
“Shit,” I hissed as the phone rang on the main desk behind me and I ran to grab it. “For A Good Time, Call… Inc. Lea speaking.”
“Lea, what the hell are you doing there?” Fee’s voice shrieked at me through the phone. The sound of her voice somehow managed to calm me down a bit.
“Working.”
“Jesus,” she said and I could hear the noise of the kids quiet down as she, I assumed, moved away from them. “Are you out of your mind? There is literally a hurricane going on right now. They already evacuated everyone down by the water. That building has way too much glass. You need to get out of there before it all crashes in on you.”
Right. Well, when the boss told you it was time to leave work early, you didn’t argue. I walked with the cordless phone over to my desk, stashing my supplies back into my bag. And just then, of course, the power cut out. “Lovely,” I grumbled.
“Becca, quit being so dramatic,” Fee said, sounding amused as her daughter let out an Academy Award-worthy scream. “Are you going?” she asked me.
“Yes, I’m just looking for my keys before I head out into that mess,” I said, my hand closing around them and I swung my bag over my shoulder.
“Call me when you get home so I know you’re not, quite literally, dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“You’re so comforting, Fee,” I laughed. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Go.”
With that, I hung up the phone and all but ran across the office to the front door. The second I pushed it open, the wind took control of it and it literally took all the strength I had to prevent it from hitting the wall and likely shattering. I slammed it closed, pushing my shoulder into it as I locked it. The rain pelted down on me, soaking me through before I could even turn toward my car. I got inside, slamming the door, my heart still a frantic bass beat in my chest. I stuck in the key and turned and… you guessed it… nothing.
There wasn’t even a flicker of life.
Not even a click.
It was the deadest kind of dead.
That was just great. Just wonderful. Really, the cherry on the pie of my week.
I sat there for a minute as the world threw a fit around me, trying to consider my options. I could go back into the office. It was right there. Maybe I could even lock myself up in a back room away from the windows or something. But the power was out. It was going to get cold sooner or later. I didn’t know how long I would be stuck there, how long hurricanes blew for. Really, it wasn’t that far home. If I did it at a dead run, which, well, was the only way to do it even in good weather, it would take me less than ten minutes. Then I could be locked up with warm, dry clothes and cabinets full of food.
It wasn’t much of a choice to make really.
I would be hoofing it.
I threw my bag into my back seat, knowing it would only get wet and heavy and slow me down. Then I got out of the car, barely taking a second to lock it before I started running. The rain was frigid and unrelenting. Soaked took on a whole new meaning as I rounded my way out of the industrial part of town. The wind was another nemesis, trying its best to slow me down, to throw me up against every building I passed. But it was okay. It wasn’t that far. I would be fine.
Just fine.
The sound of a motorcycle closing in on me had my stomach clenching hard and my heart lodging itself up into my throat. When it rumbled beside me, it took everything I had not to scream prematurely. But I swallowed it back and looked over and, well, it wasn’t who I thought.
No.
But I suddenly very much understood why Fee told me the local biker gang was good looking.
Because, holy hell.
Tall, dark, and dangerous. That was how you described a man like him. Handsome went without saying.
“Babe…” he said, shaking his head at me. “You really thought a hurricane was a good time for a run?” he asked, lips tipping up and I wasn’t exactly unaffected.
“I was at work. My car died. I don’t live far from here.” I had no idea why I gave him all that information; it just slipped out.
Habit, maybe.
“My name is Reign,” he said, moving to gesture behind him. “Won’t be a luxury ride, but I can get you home faster.”
I paused, hemming and hawing the idea of getting home faster as well as the safety level of a bike in that kind of weather and the fact that I knew it was probably not a good idea to take a ride from a complete stranger.
Then, out of nowhere, a giant truck pulled up beside Reign’s bike. The engine stayed on and the door opened and slammed shut and I had a very strong feeling of ‘this is what you get when you talk to strange men’, sure they were about to snatch me, throw me in the back of that truck, and sell me into some freaking human trafficking ring or some shit.
It happened all the time.
I’d seen the news stories.
That was my worry for about two whole seconds before I saw Shane freaking Mallick round the front of the truck and look between us. “Reign, all due respect, fuck off,” he said to the biker, a warning clear in his voice.
But it obviously fell on unconcerned ears because Reign’s lips tipped up into a devilish little smirk, his light green eyes dancing slightly. “That’s the way it is, huh?” he asked, glancing over at Shane.
“That’s the way it is,” Shane agreed.
“Sure Mark would agree with that?” Reign went on.
To that, despite everything about Shane seeming tense, borderline angry, his lips split into a wicked smile. “You sure you wanna go there, Reign?”
“Ah, I think there’s been enough blood spilled today,” Reign said, then turned to give me a melt-your-panties once-over. “Shame,” he said to me, then looked to Shane again. “Don’t fuck it up.”
“That a threat?”
“Just saying’. Shouldn’t go to waste.”
With that, he pulled away and we stood there for a tense second watching him disappear as the rain poured down our faces. “Let’s go,” Shane said unexpectedly, making me jump.
“Ah, thanks but no thanks.”
I really, really didn’t need to be anywhere near him right then. Or ever again. I had spent the week trying to convince myself that it was no big deal. It was just sex. Sex was sex unless both parties wanted it to be more. I didn’t. Or, at least, that was what I was telling myself. The sex was great. I had been expecting it to be pretty spectacular, but it seemed to surpass my expectations. And my body, ready for a feast after the famine, had been demanding more ever since. But that couldn’t be.
So staying away from Shane was my best bet.
Getting into a car with him would be a very, very bad idea.
“Jesus Christ, Lea, it’s crazy out here. Get in the fucking truck and let me take you home.”
“Don’t,” I snapped when he stalked over to me and went to reach for my arm. “I said leave, Shane. I’m fine.”
“Don’t be a pain in the…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I snapped, pushing into his chest, annoyed at him not because he was going to call me a pain in the ass, but because I was feeling a bit used and a lot rejected, no matter how wrong it was for me to feel that way. And, well, I got pissy when I felt that way.
“Christ, woman, you need some anger management classes,” he said, lips twitching.
“I don’t need anger management. I need you to stop pissing me off!” I snapped, moving to shove at him again only to find my wrist snagged. He used it to quickly pull me toward his truck. He yanked the door open, grabbed my hips, and tossed me inside.
“Stay,” he said, slamming the door and rounding the hood to the driver’s side. “Put your seatbelt on or I’ll do it for you,” he said, cranking up the heat.
“I don’t know what your problem…” I started, snapping my belt and turning to face him, throwing some of my sopping hair over my shoulder.
“My problem is you’re being too stubborn to accept some help when you need it. So sit there, shut it, and let me help you.” With that, he snapped his own belt and put the car in drive.
Again, not in the direction of my apartment.
“I really don’t recommend kidnapping me right now,” I said, crossing my arms and staring at his profile.
“You can’t go back to that shithole in this weather,” he said, not bothering to look at me.
“That shithole is where I live. And a place you own, if you remember.”
“Yeah, and it could very likely blow over or catch fire tonight. So you’re not going there.”
“You don’t get to make that decision for me.”
“I already did.”
“Shane…”
“No, Lea.”
“Listen, I’m really not the kind of woman you can go all alpha-asshole on.”
The truck pulled to a stop outside an old warehouse and Shane cut the engine. “Baby, I’m not going to force you to do shit. I live here,” he said, gesturing toward the warehouse. “Come up. Get changed into something dry. Get some coffee. Or, go right ahead and go on foot. It’s about three times the distance now and shit just seems to keep getting crazier out here. But that’s your choice.”
He opened his door, jumped down, and slammed it.
And as I watched a garbage can fly across the street, throwing trash everywhere, yeah, I really didn’t think it would be smart to go on foot.
On a very exaggerated, long-suffering sigh, I reached for my door and yanked it open. Shane paused at the end of the outside staircase that was something more than a fire escape, but only because none of the parts folded up, waiting for me. Like he didn’t have even the tiniest doubt that I would do anything but follow.
“Slippery metal stairs, really?” I asked, raising my voice because the wind was at the point where it was making it hard to hear.
“We could go through the stairs from the first floor, but they’re half-rotten and I’m pretty sure there is an entire rat ecosystem going on down there.”
“Lovely,” I drawled as I stopped right in front of him. “What?” I asked when he just stood there.
“Go on.”
“Why do I have to go first?”
“Because I want to watch your ass,” he said with an eye roll. “To make sure you don’t fall. Now, go.”
A little thrown by both the remark and the good, old-fashioned manners, I hesitated until he reached out and gave me a tiny little push. With that, I climbed, both hands grabbing the railings on either side as I looked down to watch my feet on the slippery grates.
“Right here,” Shane said, reaching out and slinging an arm around my hips, stopping me. He stuck a key into a lock and pushed the door open, then scooted inside. “Hold up,” he said, letting his arm fall and moving away form me, leaving me to try to force my eyes to adjust to the complete darkness so I could get an idea of where I was standing. If the bottom floor had rotten stairs and a rat infestation, I didn’t exactly have high hopes for this floor.
I could hear Shane shuffling around for a second, cursing as he rammed into something. Then a small lantern flickered on, illuminating a good ten feet around Shane who was standing in a kitchen that was cut off from the rest of the space by an L-shaped counter with what looked to be slate countertops. “Literal hurricane lamps,” he said, sounding amused. “My mother’s housewarming gift,” he explained, picking up the glass container with an enclosed flame and sloshing red oil in the bottom. “She was convinced every house should have one or two. I was really hoping it was the one goddamn time in my life that she was wrong about something.” He paused in front of me, the shadow the light was casting on his face making the hollows of his cheeks look deeper, his eyes brighter. It was a way too appealing combination. “Want to get changed into something dry?”
Something of his? That was likely to smell like him? God, no.
But there really wasn’t much of a choice. “Yeah.”
“Alright, you hold this. I’ll go find you something.” He handed me the lamp and moved a couple feet away. Part of me wanted to follow so I could see more of the space, but I didn’t want to drop any more water all over so I stayed put as I heard him open and close a couple dresser drawers. “My pants will never fit you so you’re going commando on that front,” he informed me as he handed me a warm, dry shirt of some sort. “To your left,” he told me and I turned to look for a door.
And there was one.
That much was true.
What there wasn’t… was actual walls.
“Um, Shane…”
“Yeah?” he asked, having turned and started to walk away.
“Your bathroom has no walls.”
“Yeah, I haven’t gotten around to that yet.”
“I’m not getting changed in a room with no walls.” Or peeing for that matter, but I wasn’t about to say that.
“Turn off the lamp.”
“Ah, yeah, still not doing it.”
He turned back and I could just barely make out the smile he was giving me. “Alright,” he said, going somewhere and coming back a moment later with what looked like sheets. “It’s pitch black in here so I can’t hammer up any walls for you. But I can give you a small amount of privacy.” With that, he went ahead and hung the sheets. “Go ahead,” he said once he was done. “There are towels in the linen closet.”
“Wait,” I said, turning back with a smile. “You have a linen closet but no walls?”
“I needed somewhere to put the towels,” he shrugged as if that explained everything. Man logic.
“Okay then,” I said, going in and closing the door.
I put the lamp down on the sink vanity and the space was small enough to be completely washed in light when I turned the flame up. It was literally completely finished except for the walls. The floors were tiled in a deep gray with a matching grout. The sink was a deep and an unusual for a bathroom rectangle shape. I had a sneaking suspicion it was that way because he might have needed somewhere to throw blood-stained clothes while he showered before he brought them to the laundry. A toilet, well, was a toilet. The shower, though. Yeah. A part of me really wanted to step inside and warm up. It was deep set, the kind you walked into, not stepped into. There were three shower heads on the three full walls, tiled to match the floor.
I resisted the urge and went to the linen cabinet to grab a towel, using it to squeeze some of the excess water out of my hair before stripping out of my drenched clothes. I piled them up and tossed them into the shower, not knowing what else to do with them, then dried off my body. I reached for the shirt that Shane handed me and slid into the dark blue material with Chaz’s bar emblem on the front. Shane, being the giant wall of muscle he was, had clothes that, while I was tall, still swam on me. It landed maybe mid-thigh and made me hyper-aware of the fact that I no longer had panties on. But it was what it was. It was warm and dry and I would just make sure I didn’t flash him.
I hung up the towel on the edge of the linen cabinet door, grabbed the lamp, and headed out. Shane was rummaging around from the direction of the kitchen and I moved toward the noise to find him with a tiny LED camping lantern propped up on the counter as he piled what looked like half the contents of the fridge onto the counter.
“You cook?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“Hey, baby. Put that lantern up over here, would you?” he asked, gesturing toward the counter beside the stove. I did, then crossed my arms over my chest, feeling weird that I no longer had anywhere to put them. “I can throw some food together. Basic life skills, my mother called it when she herded us all into the kitchen to throw shit together until it tasted palatable. I can also do my own laundry and clean my house,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Miracle,” I acknowledged, knowing more than a fair share of grown ass men who couldn’t claim half as much.
“Here, you go here,” he said, turning to me suddenly and sinking his hands into my hips, hauling me up and placing me on the counter. “Keep me company while I chop.”
I carefully crossed my legs and, because his focus was elsewhere, took a good long look at him. He had changed too, but only into a pair of heavy sweatpants that he had slung dangerously low on his hips, showing me his broad back where I found a giant Mallick family coat of arms
It was a big piece that took up his entire back left shoulder. The shield had a large tree across it, the roots thick and deep. The supporters were giant red feathers that matched the phoenix crest on top. The Mallick name was in bold font beneath. Above the phoenix’s head was the family motto: Vis nescia vinci.
“Vis necia vinci,” I said, not even aware I was going to until it was out of my mouth.
“A power ignorant of defeat,” Shane supplied, not so much as hesitating as he just chop, chop, chopped away.
“What are you making?” I asked, feeling my stomach start to grumble.
“Stew. One of the easiest things not to fuck up,” he informed me.
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
“Sit there and keep me company,” he said again with a shrug.
With that, we fell into a silence that seemed oddly companionable to the sound of the wind gusting and the rain pelting the windows and the far off, but not too far off, sounds of sirens and car alarms.
I hadn’t even been aware that Shane had finished chopping or that he had moved until I felt his stomach press into my knees. My head snapped up as he kept pressing to the point where I was either going to seriously hurt his very nice abs or open my legs around him. I chose the latter and the material of his pants rubbed intimately against my inner thighs. “What are you doing?”
His lips quirked up at one side and his hands slowly slid up my inner thighs before sinking into my hipbones.
“What are you doing?” I repeated, already knowing the answer, but trying to at least attempt to pretend like I wasn’t dying for it too.
“Well, not much to do with the power out,” he said with a wicked smirk as one of his hands slid to the center of my belly and moved a path upward until it planted between my breasts with firm pressure, pushing me backward until I was flat against the counter. The second I was, his body curled over mine and I expected him to kiss me, but his head ducked at the last moment and his mouth closed around my nipple through the material of the tee, sucking hard and making me arch up into the sensation on a throaty moan. His tongue moved out, circling the hardening bud and soaking the material. My thighs clamped around the sides of his body and his teeth bit into my nipple hard, making me both yelp and groan somehow simultaneously. His head moved across my chest to give my other nipple the same attentive torment.
He released me a second later and I had no idea what he intended, his fingers moving lazily up and down my thighs. But then his body shifted and his tongue was sliding unexpectedly up my slit and claiming my clit, rolling his tongue over it, making my entire body do a hard shiver. “Oh my God,” I groaned, my hand slamming down on the back of his neck, sifting into his soft hair, holding him against me.
See, Shane was good for a fuck. But if there was one thing I had learned in life, it was that most guys could fuck. Many guys could by sheer fumbling accident make you come from oral, but it was a rare breed of man who was truly skilled at it. Shane, yeah, he was in a league his own. His tongue teased in circles, then switched to side-to-side strokes. And just when I was sure I would come, he pulled back, running his tongue downward and pulsed it against the opening to my body before moving back up again and sucking on my clit hard enough to drag out what could only be called a scream. He pulled back, not allowing the orgasm, as his hands went under my knees and coaxed my legs over his shoulders. Then I felt them sinking into my hips, hard, almost bruising.
A second later, I understood why, because he started moving. Which meant that I started moving too. His fingers moved to cross over my lower back as it left the counter, holding me tight to him as he took his feet.
He. Took. His. Feet.
Meaning he had me sitting on his shoulders while his face was still buried in my pussy, his tongue still moving over me effortlessly as he started moving through his kitchen. Even with his arms as an anchor, I felt unsteady, leaning slightly over his head, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck.
My back slammed against a wall and Shane’s hands left my back to hold me under my thighs, the wall and his strength giving me all the security I needed as I released his neck, holding him gently by the head as he drove me higher, intensified by the unique position, by his strength, by his improvisation.
“Shane, I…” I moaned, fingers curling into his head in a way that was likely painful, but every inch of me felt tight, poised, ready for the crash.
His lips closed around my clit and hummed his approval and I just… shattered.
My body shook; my breath got caught; I cried out his name.
I was barely aware of moving again until I felt myself flying through the air, making my heart shoot up into my throat for a second until my back bounced on the soft mattress of his bed, catching me off-guard, making me laugh.
Shane’s shadow towered over me and I felt his knees plant at the edge of the bed, one on the side of my thigh, one between, looking down at me. How he was able to see anything was completely beyond me, but I could feel the heat of his gaze. His hands planted on either side of my shoulders and he moved over me, claiming my lips. I could taste myself there still and felt another wave of desire somehow break through my system.
He released me a long time later, my lips buzzing from the attention, sensitive and just a tiny bit sore. His head tilted, his teeth nipping into my earlobe. “Rode my face. Now you’re gonna ride my cock,” he told me and my pussy clenched in agreement. Yes, God yes.
His body lifted from mine and I could make out him sliding his pants off, his hand going to his hard cock, stroking it once before turning and moving into the nightstand. I heard the fumbling with the condom box and the tearing of a wrapper as his back was to me. I moved to my knees, sitting back on my heels. Finished, he climbed into bed, laying flat, and reaching for me.
I moved to straddle his waist, but not lowering down. His hands slid up my thighs lazily, snagging the hem of the tee and slowly moving it up, exposing me inch by inch. My arms went up over my body as he folded up to pull the material free from my head. He moved flat again, his hands still on my thighs. I planted my hands on his stomach, moving my fingers over his abs, enjoying the new sensation of getting to know his body, the dips and edges, the smooth patches that could only be scars.
Shane shifted his hips and his cock rubbed against my cleft, making me let out a shocked hiss as he exhaled hard.
“Lea, baby…”
There was need in his voice. And as much as I wanted to get to know every inch of him with my fingers, my lips, my tongue, I lifted my hips. He reached between us, grabbing his cock and holding it at the base so I could slide down on him. I lifted up higher and pressed down, feeling his cock slowly spread me, fill me, promising fulfillment. My hand moved to the center of his stomach as I paused, giving my body a second before I took him deeper. His hand moved from between us and settled on my hip, letting me take the lead, do it at my own pace. I took him to the root on a groan, half arching forward over him.
“Fuck baby,” he growled, sounding tense. And somehow, I liked that even more, as evidenced by the way my pussy clenched around him. I liked that he wasn’t perfectly in control, that I maybe took a little bit of that away from him. “Ride me, Lea,” he demanded as I took a minute.
Then, well, there was no more tentativeness. I moved my hips up and down, loving each perfect, thick inch as it slid in and out of me. Once I found my rhythm, Shane’s hips started to move in small circles as I moved, making me feel him even more intensely, driving me up faster than I knew was possible. My speed picked up and his stayed the same, round and round, his fingers positively crushing my hipbones as he tried to hold on as my moans became throaty cries and my sex clenched to the point of near-pain before I finally felt myself go over the edge.
The orgasm was deep, intense, a hard, slow throbbing pulsation that rolled and rolled and rolled through me as I lost whatever bones I had in my body, liquidly falling down on top of him as my body shook. His arms went around me as he started thrusting upward, dragging out my orgasm as I groaned into his neck, then planting deep on a hard thrust and coming with my name on his lips.
We stayed that way for a long time after, me a boneless form completely collapsed against him. His hands drifted lazily up and down my spine, making me goosebump and shiver slightly.
I turned my face up to plant a kiss into his neck, a gesture that was a bit gushy, a bit sweet for me.
Then, like the universe knew things were getting too intense for me, my belly let out a grumble and Shane chuckled beneath me, a sound I found way too appealing.
“Alright. Let me up. I’ll deal with the condom and feed you.”
On a small grumble, I did, accepting the tee when he tossed it back at me. He leaned down to grab his pants before moving into the bathroom for a minute. After that, he went to the kitchen and got us stew, coming back and handing me mine where I was sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed and moving himself to sit back against the headboard.
We ate in silence for a long while before he broke it.
“Those walls are down,” he said, his voice low. “Might be the only chance I get to ask this so…”
“Don’t,” I half-demanded, half-pleaded. “Don’t ruin it.”
He ignored me though, and went on. “Who fucked you over so bad that you can’t even give me a chance?”
I paused at that, knowing a lie wouldn’t be convincing, but not ready to go there, not ready to peel back the healing layer and expose the ugly wound underneath. “Shane…”
“Lea, fuck, baby… give me something. I’m not asking for every piece. Just… give me something.”
There was a bit of pleading in his tone and maybe that was what did it, that made my mouth open and admit something I hadn’t admitted to anyone out loud except the people at the crisis line I had called in a particularly weak, low moment right after I left.
“My last ex,” I started, squeezing my eyes tight even though it was already pitch black in the room.
When I didn’t, couldn’t, go on, Shane prompted. “What’d he do to you, Lea?” he asked, his voice a comforting tone as his free hand moved out and landed on my knee, squeezing.
I shook my head, pressing my lips together for a long minute, trying to find a way to say it without really having to say it. “He did the kind of things that makes a woman decide to leave everything and everyone she loves and not look back,” I admitted, my heart squeezing hard in my chest.
I heard Shane’s bowl slam down on the nightstand and, a second later, felt mine pulled from my hands to join his on the nightstand. Then his arm went around my shoulders, grabbing me, pulling me against him, folding me into his side. His head turned and planted a kiss to the top of my head and I had a sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry.
“Okay,” he said, his voice a little rough, but calm, accepting. There was no judgement.
That was my biggest fear in admitting the truth, even pieces of the truth- that people would think I was weak for going through it. I had felt that exact same way before it happened to me- just leave. Just fucking leave you weakass. Chop off his dick and flip off his castrated body as you hightailed it out of town.
“I stayed…” I admitted, not knowing why.
Shane exhaled hard. “Let me put this in a way that might help you put things into perspective, okay?” he asked, pausing and waiting for me to nod. “If you put a frog into a pot of boiling water, the fucker will jump right back out. It knows it’s wrong, it hurts, it will kill him. But if you put him in a pot and slowly raise it up to boiling, he’ll stay. That’s what abuse is like. You might not even notice it’s happening at first. You’d brush it off as him having a bad day, you pissing him off. But then it starts getting worse in small ways until you’re in so deep and you’re so hot and your skin is peeling and you don’t know if you even remember you can jump anymore. That doesn’t make you weak. You got out of that shit, baby. That makes you stronger, a lot stronger, I think, than you even realize.”
I closed my eyes again, trying not to get as emotional as I was starting to feel.
He got it.
He understood.
God.
God.
I didn’t think anyone would ever understand.
“You want your food back or do you want sleep?” he asked, letting it drop, and I was never more thankful for anything in my life.
“Sleep,” I admitted, not sure it would come, but it gave me an excuse to be silent.
“Okay,” he said, sliding down on the mattress, pulling me along with him, then situating me on his chest, one arm slung across my lower back, the other stroking through my messy and mostly-dry hair for a long time until his breath went deep and steady and I knew he was asleep.
I stayed up for a long time, wondering what it meant that I shared, if it somehow made it impossible to put my shields back up, if it maybe changed the way he saw me, even in a small way. My heart hurt at that idea. Because, fact of the matter was, I hadn’t given him almost anything at all. It was the cleanest piece of a giant, bloody, God-awful puzzle.
But before I could come to any kind of conclusions or decisions about how to move forth from then on, I was lulled into sleep feeling, for maybe the first time in my life, completely safe.