Chapter 34
“Are you going to puke?” he asks, seeming not bothered by the thought.
Am I going to puke? What kind of question is that? “No, I’m fine.” Or at least I was until he said the word “puke.” I hold my hand out. “But give me the garbage can just in case.”
He does and then leans back against the desk and folds his arms over his chest. A chest I know is muscled and gorgeous. “What am I going to do with you?”
I shrug and look away. I have no clue how to answer that. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself. I take a swig of water.
“Eve?”
“What?”
His lips twitch. “You’re grumpy when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.” I’m buzzed. Or I was. It doesn’t seem to be there anymore. I sigh. “Just tell me what you want to know.”
“All right.” He pushes away from the desk and walks over to the door, where he rips off my duct tape and turns to me. “Let’s start with this.”
I push to my feet. “That’s none of your business.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, and somewhere way down deep inside of me, this fist punches up, and out comes a scream as I turn and kick the bed.
He doesn’t even move.
I stomp over to him, yank the tape from his fingers, and shove it down inside my pocket. “You know what? No one will ever watch me again!”
I pace over to the window, jerk open the curtains, and stand, raggedly breathing, staring out at a twinkle-lit Dallas. “I’m free now, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
In the window’s reflection, West moves, and I spin around. “What?” I snap.
He shakes his head. “Keep going.”
I take a deep breath and pull at the collar of my T-shirt. It’s too hot. I can’t breathe. I finish off the water bottle before stomping over to the wall unit and punching it from 72 down to 65.
I turn, and West is still standing there, watching me.
His expression turned cautious, though. My insides feel like they’re clawing, trying to get out.
I dig my fingers into my hair, and I pull.
I have to get rid of him. I’m about to explode.
West shifts over to the chair that occupies the corner and slowly lowers himself into it.
He props his elbows on the armrests as if telling me he has infinite patience with my bad mood.
I wave toward the door. “Why don’t you just go back to the party?”
“It’s boring.” And then he chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Who would’ve ever thought I’d say a party’s boring?”
“But Illana’s down there,” I toss out.
He tilts his head. “Illana and I are just friends.”
“Didn’t look that way to me. Who is she, by the way? Why is she always around?”
“She’s Ms. Kelly’s assistant. I thought you knew that.”
Oh…that makes sense.
“Listen, this is not the issue right now. Illana and I are not messing around, and if we were, it’s not your business. You did make it painfully obvious you don’t want anything to do with me. I don’t even know why you’re bringing her up.”
He does have a point. “I’m in a bad mood. You should probably leave.” Although I want him to stay. I do want to have this out.
“I’ve got enough patience for both of us.”
I take in his calm demeanor. Is he really that in control? Because I’m anything but.
“What’s up with the duct tape?” he asks again.
My brain scrambles with damage control excuses.
“Don’t start throwing up walls,” he warns. “Or I will do what I said. I will walk out, and you will never make this up to me.”
Irritation flares through me as I pull the tape out of my pocket and swing around.
“You want to know why I put this on there? Because my FATHER used to watch me through a reverse peephole in my bedroom door.” And that’s the first time I’ve admitted to myself in a very long time who Grayson really is.
I trudge over and wave the tape at West. “You know why he did it? Because ‘Girls do things behind closed doors they aren’t supposed to.’ Whatever.
What he really wanted was to know when I was at my weakest so that he could do his worst, or even better, watch the aftermath of his visits.
” I fling the tape on his lap. “There. You wanted to know about that damn piece of tape? Well, now you do!”
Silence.
Time beats by, filled only by the sound of my heavy breaths and his gentle look. But the more I breathe and the more he maintains that gentleness, the more my anger slowly fades.
I just yelled at West. I’ve never yelled at anybody in my entire life.
Defeated by the past weeks, by my memories, by everything, I sink onto the edge of Anne’s bed and let out a long, exhausted breath.
“I can’t believe I yelled at you.” I give West a weak smile. “It felt good.”
“I bet it did. It certainly sobered me, and I haven’t even been drinking.”
I inhale a breath and let it back out. “I’m so tired of being who I am.”
West pushes out of the chair and comes to kneel in front of me. He slides his arms along the sides of my legs, loosely cradling me like he did on that park bench. “Is this okay?” he asks like he did before.
A sense of calmness settles over me, and I nod.
“I think you’re amazing, Eve. You have some awful stuff to work through, and you’re incredibly brave to do so.”
Brave. I like that word.
“Your father gave you those marks on your back, didn’t he?” His arms tighten around me. “Is that why you don’t like your wrists held? What did he use, Eve?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“It’s okay,” West reassures me. “It’s just you and me. No one’s watching. No one’s listening.”
Memories flash through my brain, and I flinch.
“Open your eyes and focus on me.”
I do, finding West searching mine with a sweet and understanding look. Like I can sink right in and confide in him.
“Did he use a belt on you?”
“Yes.” And that one simple word lifts a gigantic burden. “He favored the buckle.”
A muscle angrily flexes in his jaw. “What is your father’s name?”
“I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry. I just can’t. You have to accept that for now.”
“Are you scared for me to know his name?”
“Yes.”
“Okay… But will you tell me his name when you’re ready?”
“I will.”
West takes a deep breath. “Eve, did he sexually abuse you?”
“Not him, no.”
“Someone else?”
An image of Noah Riley fills my head. “No. Almost, but no.”
“When did the physical abuse start?”
“I was ten,” I admit, feeling even more burden lift.
West’s expression hardens in both anguish and concern. “How often did this happen to you?”
“A lot.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
Sweat breaks out all over my skin, making me more cold than hot. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
He sighs and takes my hand, and the small gesture makes my thoughts tumble. “You haven’t made me uncomfortable. Don’t ever think that.” He presses a kiss to my open palm. “Have you always dealt with this alone? Has anybody ever helped you?”
“Brynn helped me—” escape. But I don’t tell him that part, either. Or the fact that my name is fake. Or that I’m only sixteen. Or who my father really is.
“What about your mother?”
“She committed suicide. I’m the one who found her body. It was the morning after my tenth birthday. It was her that he used to beat, then it became me.”
“Oh, shit. Eve…” West moves to sit beside me on the bed. Gently, he hugs me.
I want to tell him so much more. It feels incredible to share. You cannot tell anybody who you are…
“Know I’m here.” West pulls back from the hug. “Always.”
I turn toward him, loving the closeness that feels comfortable and non-intimidating. He brushes a kiss to the inside of my wrist and then places my hand over his heart. The whole thing feels so darn good and loving.
“You’re nothing like I imagined you’d be,” I softly tell him.
“How did you imagine I’d be?”
“I don’t know. The typical sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, I guess.”
“Sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, huh? Well, no drugs for me but lots of music and sex.”
My skin goes warm at the sex part.
He presses a kiss to my cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
He caresses my earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. “You are something else.”
We stay that way, our foreheads touching, taking each other in. Finally, he lifts his head and looks at me. How does he think I seem sitting here? I hope not pathetic. The last thing I ever want to be again is pathetic. Strong and independent. That’s what I want to be.
He lies back on the bed and opens his arms, and I hesitate, though I’m not sure why.
Amusement plays across the space. “No big deal, Eve. Just be with me.”
Recent memories flood in—getting lost with each other; kissing at the soundboard; snuggling on the roof in New York City; playing the guitar while he sang; stretched out on top of me at the beach; pressing into me—
“What is it?” he asks.
“I’ve had some thoughts, some sex thoughts,” I blurt out, then press my lips together. I can’t believe I just said that.
His eyes widen in interest. In surprise. In wariness. It’s the wariness that has me frowning. “Believe me, sex is on my mind a lot, too.”
My breathing stops.
“Oh, Blue Eyes…” he sighs.
“I like it when you call me that.”
His expression gentles even more. “Eve, you have no idea how much I want to experience that with you. But, we’re not ready.”
We’re not ready. I’m so glad he didn’t say I wasn’t ready.
Although, I’m not.
I stretch out beside him, staring up at the ceiling. I’m fully aware of West just inches from me, breathing. I rotate my head and look at him to find him staring right back. Drinking me in really. Memorizing my details. Like he’s hungry or something.
I have a flash of me in the bathroom pleasuring myself, but just as quickly as the flash comes, insecurity replaces it. Why? I don’t want insecurity. I want the pleasure.
Taking the initiative, I roll over and snuggle into his side, and he wraps his arm around me and pulls me in. “Make no mistake,” he whispers, “when that does happen for us, it will be the most amazing thing either of us has ever experienced.”
He brushes his lips across my temple and then slowly caresses his nose up and down my hairline, breathing me in.
“I did miss you,” I softly admit.