Chapter 2 #2
“Because if I do have a concussion, at least I know you won’t let anything happen to me. As much as you’re throwing daggers in my direction, you feel something for me. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
Reed pinched my chin in between his pointer finger and thumb. If he wasn’t glowering, the action would have made me aroused. I tried to hide my vulnerability by looking away but he turned my head.
“It’s a deep loathing. There. Now you don’t have to guess.” But he hadn’t given me a reason to feel that way. I was dodging the real heart of it. Opening to him about my past would rear all the ugly, worthless feelings I had about myself.
“There you go judging me again. What gives you the right?”
“I’m not judging.” My voice sounded cold, hollow. It wasn’t like me to speak this way, especially not to someone I wanted a relationship with. And I did want one, though I continued to pretend otherwise.
“No, it’s not you being judgmental. It’s even worse.”
I squirmed. He seemed to know me better than I thought he did. It pissed me off just a little bit but I said nothing to confirm or deny his suspicions.
“I think that you’re worried that you might actually feel something for me,” he suggested. “If you allow one tiny sliver of sunshine into the fortress you’ve built around yourself it might crumble. Is that it? Are you throwing shade at me just so you don’t have to process your emotions?”
“Fuck off,” I growled.
“No, lemondrop. We are going to address this right now. Because if you were anyone else on the planet, once you raised your hand to my cheek, even though you didn’t hit me? I’d have tossed you out of my house.”
I tugged myself away from his reach hard enough that I fell onto the hardwood floor skidding across it on my butt.
I hadn’t shared my traumatic experiences with anyone.
It was private. A part of my life that no one knew.
Not even Karsyn. Reed squatted down to my level, probably searching my eyes for some indication that he was correct.
He held his hands out, and I reluctantly allowed him to assist me back into a standing position.
His closeness snapped me out of the temporary daze.
“Tell me why you’re shutting down and pulling away, Eloise.”
“I can’t.”
He cupped my face between his hands and for the first time ever, I felt completely seen.
“Say it out loud, Eli. Take your fucking power back. Right now.”
Suddenly the story, the one I’d buried deep down inside of me, came pouring out of my lips for the first time.
“The internet scandals? They were facilitated. My parents forced me into the spotlight so that they could keep it off of them. I don’t know what sort of dealings, corrupt business partners maybe, but I never asked.
So, I used to hang out with celebrities, some of them weren’t great.
Especially this one guy. One night after way too much partying, I went back to his house.
He grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the floor. ”
“And that’s why no one can touch your wrists?” Reed asked, trying to piece the missing story together.
“He assaulted me. Against my will. It explains the reason I get triggered. When you said that my father’s money couldn’t save me, all the awful things that he allowed came rushing to the surface. He should have protected me, but he didn’t.” Tears poured down my cheeks.
Reed pulled me against him, allowing me space to cry. “You’re not the same person that you were back then. Don’t doubt how strong you are.”
“I guess I’m strong,” I said in between sobs. “I have healed a lot of trauma, but I still get very triggered. That night was the start of my downward spiral. I lost respect for my parents when they failed to keep me safe.” I glanced up into his face.
“Did your brothers know about it?”
“No. I blamed myself. I was way too embarrassed to tell them. I took the brunt of everything even though I’m sure they would have taken care of me.”
Something that looked like rage crossed Reed’s features. He stepped away, clenching and releasing his fists. He was angry on my behalf. Reed cared. That much was clear. But I had no clue on how to navigate through that knowledge or what it might mean for us.
Reed
“Your parents used you!” I seethed, trying to gather my thoughts before continuing. “They took advantage of you for their own perverse gains.”
“Yeah. More than once.”
“Those fucking pieces of–”
The doorbell rang, the arrival of dinner interrupting our intense conversation and I jabbed my fingers into my hair.
The urge to scoop Eloise into my lap was almost as strong as the urge to toss her on the bed and fuck her senseless.
To make her see how much I believed in her.
That she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and to prove that I wanted her.
Because I did. I had no idea if she wanted a relationship; she had said that she wasn’t ready for one, but her behavior seemed to suggest otherwise.
Sex would help us work through whatever had been in our heads, imbibing in pleasure while letting everything else drift away. Sex was always a better choice than arguing.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Reed. Let it go.”
“Yes, it does, Eli. Please go sit on the couch.”
She stared at me for a moment before walking out of my room without another word.
Maybe sharing her story lifted some of the crushing stress that had been piling on her, but it was hard to tell.
I followed at a distance, paying the delivery driver and then bringing everything to the coffee table.
We wordlessly plated our food though I wasn’t hungry anymore.
I turned on the television to give us something to ease the tension.
“What you went through matters. It was traumatic. It was awful. And I hate that you had to face it alone and without support.”
“I don’t want to talk about my trauma or about my parents anymore tonight,” she said simply.
“That’s fine, you don’t have to. We can eat and watch TV until it’s safe for me to fall asleep.”
“Your family grew up in the same circles as mine. I think that’s why I’ve been judging you, but it’s a poor excuse. I know that.”
She’d just finished saying she didn’t want to talk about things, but went back into a heavy topic. That wasn’t showing me the entire picture. She appeared to be hiding the truth again.
“Who cares if I grew up dirt poor or with money?”
“You joke with August whenever you guys are together about all kinds of things you used to do.”
“Key phrase is ‘used to do.’ Reminiscing with one of my best friends over stupid shit we did in our twenties shouldn’t be held against me now. I’m thirty-three. I don’t act that way anymore. Get to know me. You might be surprised.”
“I’m already surprised, Reed,” she said halfheartedly.
“Then what is it? Are you afraid to let someone in?”
“It’s bigger than that.”
Of course it was, but she didn’t want to tell me yet. We ate without speaking, the television on low for background noise. After a few minutes of the only other sound being our utensils hitting our plates, I spoke again. “I’m not giving up on you, lemondrop.”
"I can’t imagine what is making you say that. I’m used to people leaving. You don’t have to make promises that you may not be able to keep.”
“I’m going to do my best to keep it.” I traced my thumb across her jawline before sitting back against the couch.
Eloise smelled like a mouthwatering combination of jasmine, rose, and something else uniquely her.
She tasted even better, though I doubted she would let my lips near hers again anytime soon.
Instead of trying to convince her why I’d be a good choice for her, I dropped my hand.
Actions spoke louder than words. I intended to show her exactly what sort of man I was. No matter how long it took.