Chapter Twenty-Two
Pru
The Spanish rice and sausage are done, so I pull it from the burner and check the oven. My biscuits are starting to brown; they should only need another minute or two. Even though I’m making this meal for Hack, my stomach is growling at the thought of eating it. The scent of spices mingling in the air is running amuck with my willpower. Just as I’m about to grab a fork and steal a bite, Hack walks in and shoots me a smile.
“Hey, baby,” he says, walking over to give me a quick but thorough kiss on the lips. “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, looking back at the stove. “You’re just in time. I’ve just gotta pull out the biscuits and we can eat.”
When I told Hack about my plans to cook tonight, he said not to worry about it. He wanted me to lie down and take a nap, as if sleeping was gonna change the fact that my mother is a bitch. I had to beg and plead for him to let me come to the kitchen. He only gave in when I told him I needed to stay busy or I would spend all my time thinking about Mom.
“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer,” he growls out, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer for him and a soda for me.
“I did answer you,” I reply, attempting a growl of my own. “I told you I’m fine. I’ve told you I’m fine a million times.”
It’s been three hours since we had our little talk about my mom. During those three hours, Hack has checked on me five times, and every time I’ve given him the same answer. If it wasn’t for Brew coming up and saying they needed to talk, I doubt he would have left my side at all. As nice as it is to have him care about my feelings, I was glad when he went with Brew and gave me a little time to myself.
For as long as I can remember, I have had to deal with shit on my own. When I was little, it was homework I didn’t understand how to do, or a tummy ache. As I got a bit older, it was learning to deal with my period and figuring out the mine field that is otherwise known as high school. When I became an adult, it was learning to live in the grown-up world without having a mom to ask for advice. Being on my own for so long, sometimes I just need a little space to deal with the curveballs life throws at me. Today is definitely one of those times.
I have dealt with a lot of shit all by myself, including a pregnancy, birth of a baby, and surgery, everything happening when he wasn’t there. It wasn’t easy, but I did it, and I can handle this, too. I’m glad to have him, really, I am, but shit. Give a woman a little breathing room. He has to understand that I’m not used to having someone take care of me, and it’s gonna take some getting used to.
I went over everything he told me about Mom a million times while I cooked. After I focused on that enough, memories of my childhood started filling my head. I thought about how many times I had to clean up her vomit when I was still too young to even cross the street by myself. Then, I thought of all the hours I spent cleaning our neighbor’s apartment to buy a dress for the Sadie Hawkins dance, just to discover Mom had taken it out of my closet to wear out to the bar. By the time she got home, there was a burn hole in the bodice and a cum stain near the hem.
Even after all of this, I kept begging for her attention. I let her borrow money, stocked her fridge with groceries, and paid her electric bill damn near every other month. While doing this, I often ate peanut butter sandwiches because I couldn’t afford anything better. There was even a time I lived without water for two weeks because I used my bill money to pay her bar tab before the owner could call the cops. Looking back on it all, I’m filled with shame. Not because I loved my mother enough to want to help her. No, I’m ashamed of the fact that I didn’t love myself enough to tell her no.
I start to open the door to the oven, but Hack reaches out and grabs my hand. “Are you okay? Just so you know, I don’t want a bullshit answer this time.”
Taking in a deep breath, I tell him the truth. “I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay with the fact that my mother is a piece of shit, but I’m hanging in there.”
“Not what I was hoping to hear, but it was honest. I can live with honest,” he says, a smile tipping up the corners of his lips.
“Glad I finally gave you an answer you’ll be able to live with,” I reply, rolling my eyes at him.
“Thank you, baby.” He chuckles then shakes his head in a way that lets me know he thinks I’m a nut.
I turn away from him and open the oven door. The biscuits are a perfect golden brown, so I grab one of the pot holders from a hook in the wall. Reaching for them, the back of my arm brushes against the inside of the smoking hot oven door. The biscuits are forgotten as I yank my hand away from the oven.
Giving my arm a quick wave, I start to cuss at my lack of attention. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Hack is by my side in an instant. “What happened?”
Raising up my arm, I see a small red spot from the contact with the oven door. “Nothing, just a little burn. I’ll be fine.”
My hand starts inside the oven once again, but Hack grabs me and pulls me toward the sink. A second later, he has the water on and is pushing my arm, pot holder and all, under the water, lowering his face to get a better look at the burn.
“What are you doing? I’ve got to get the biscuits before they burn,” I say, trying to pull away from him.
“Fuck the biscuits. I’m taking care of you,” he states as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
I’m so shocked that I can do nothing but stare as he moves my arm just a bit to the left to get more water to run over the burn. He continues that for a few minutes more then turns the water off and opens a drawer to pull out a dish cloth. Dabbing my skin with it, he continues to stare at the redness.
“Is it hurting very bad?” he asks, still staring at the burn.
I shake my head, realizing the pain is gone completely. “No.”
Raising his head to look at me, he tosses the dish towel on the counter. “I don’t think it’ll blister, but when we get back to the room I’ll put aloe on it.”
I shake my head. “It won’t. It’s not that bad. The redness will probably be gone within an hour or two.”
Without responding, he walks over to the stove. After grabbing another potholder, he pulls the biscuits out and sets them on the stovetop. He quickly turns the oven off then opens the cabinet to pull down two plates. He also gets two forks out of a drawer and places them on the counter. The entire time he is doing this, I just stare at him, feeling my heart beat against my chest.
I have been holding a little bit of myself back from him, even after everything he told me, the secrets he shared, and the nights I spent lying in his arms. I’ve been too afraid of getting hurt again to give him all of me and let him in completely. But with his actions over the last few minutes, he has finally broken through the last wall that was still holding firm. No matter how scared I am, I have to tell him.
“I love you, Hack,” I whisper, placing my hand on the counter to keep my legs from buckling. “I love you with all my heart.”
He smiles huge, causing his dark blue eyes to shine like sapphires. “Good, because I love you, too.”
Then, as if we haven’t just rocked each other’s worlds, he starts piling food on his plate. “We need to get this on our plates and up to our room before one of my brothers comes in and sees it. If they find out you can cook, you’ll be stuck in this kitchen every day.”
Hearing him use the same words that Trix had earlier, I bust out laughing.