Chapter 15
PERIS
As the bacon cooks in the skillet, I can’t help continuously looking back at Abel sitting at the counter, cup of coffee perched in his hand, the rim skimming just beneath his large nose as he takes another sip.
My eye twitches when he adds more sugar to his cup.
“Still have the biggest fucking sweet tooth of anyone I’ve ever met,” I mutter as he drops the spoon from mixing. His eyes flicker up to meet mine, and I relish in the pink blush that blooms across his cheeks.
“So what if I like things sweet? What’s it matter?”
“You’ve added like an entire cup of sugar into one cup of coffee,” I tell him bluntly, leaning back against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest.
“I don’t like the bitterness.”
“I’d say that’s a bit more than that.”
“Well, whatever,” Abel huffs and drops his gaze. His cheeks blaze a bit more red. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing,” I say after a minute of watching him squirm. This is different. The tables being turned. Seeing Abel vulnerable. It’s… surreal. “Just curious.”
“You already know everything about me,” he says directly, and I shrug as I turn back around to flip the bacon.
“It’s been two years. People change. I know you have.”
“Not that much,” he mutters, and I snort.
“You’d be surprised,” I murmur, and Abel lets out a soft hum that I barely hear over the sizzling in the pan.
“Why? Because you’ve changed so much?”
My muscles tense at the accusation. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” he snarks, and I whirl around, face hot.
“You left me. At the lowest point in my fucking life. How could I not have been changed from that?”
Abel’s jaw falls slack from shock, and I snap my own shut. Fucking stupid. I shouldn’t have—
“Lowest point… Peris, what are you talking about?” he asks softly, blonde brows furrowed as he slowly pushes to his feet.
The scrape of the barstool makes me wince, and I spin back around, refusing to face him.
I’m sick. I can’t. I turn off the burner, so I don’t burn the food, my mind already somewhere far away.
There’s a soft shuffle across the floor, and then, warm knuckles are brushing down my spine. Slowly. Reverently. It hurts so good.
“Peris…”
“Don’t, Abel.” I choke on the words. “You’re always talking about rights? Well, for this? You fucking don’t.”
He takes a shuddering, deep breath. “You’re right. But you’re going to tell me anyway.”
I can’t help the coughing snort that escapes. “Oh, I am, am I?”
“Yes. Because it’s me,” he says easily, his breath ghosting over my skin as he leans into me, and I shudder, even as I find myself falling back into him.
It’s as easy as breathing, touching Abel. Letting him touch me. Just being near him again. I don’t even have to think about it.
“You wanna know why I didn’t get my scholarship?”
“Yes.” His lips brush against my skin as he answers, and my heart is surprisingly calm as I relive one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced.
“Because I broke my hand. Punching my windshield.”
“You did what?”
“After I left the hotel that night. When I got home and looked at the house. Just seeing it made me sick.” I sneer the words, cutting myself off before I can get worked up, but my hands clench into fists anyway.
The pain is still there sometimes, like right now when I ball my hand too tight, but this is more of a ghostly reminder kind of pain, and I relish in it.
I need it with him around, so I don’t lose my head completely.
Abel reaches around my midsection and grabs my right hand, already knowing which one was broken, and slowly unfurls my fingers one by one.
He brushes his own fingers down mine in a featherlight touch that sends goosebumps scattering down my spine.
I shiver, muscles twitching, as Abel continues to rub away the ache. Silently.
“Then, I got completely shit-faced and woke up to the worst phone call I ever could’ve gotten, I think. Well… one of them, anyway. So…” Abel stops his ministrations, and I almost groan in annoyance. It feels so good just to be touched so nicely, so innocently.
“Wait…” he rasps, choking on the word. “Please… please don’t tell me it was… Oh, God. Please don’t—” Abel stumbles away from me, eyes wide and glassy.
I clamp my hands down on his shoulders to steady him. “Abel, calm down.”
“If Elise… if she… I can’t…” He’s hyperventilating, but the moment he says Ma’s name, it all makes sense, and my vagueness slaps me in the face. Oh, fuck.
“No. Abel. Abel!” I shake him hard enough I’m sure his crooked teeth rattle until he’s looking at me, albeit with an unsteady gaze. “Are you listening?”
“Peris, I’m so sorry—”
“Ma’s fine,” I blurt, hoping to shut him up, and it seems to have worked. His mouth drops open, and he blinks a few times very quickly.
“What?”
“Ma is fine. I wasn’t talking about her. She’s okay.”
Relief seems to fill him in an instant. Abel slumps against me, and I let him.
Wrapping my arm around his waist, I drag him over to the corner of the counters and lift him on top of them.
He sits on the counter and leans forward slightly, head hanging between his shoulders.
His breath still seems to be coming a little too fast, but other than that, he seems to be doing all right.
“Are you okay?”
“Am I okay? Jesus fucking Christ, I thought you were about to just casually mention Elise dying. For fucks sake, Peris!” His eyes are wide, and I see the tear tracks down his face, and I don’t know why it just now hits me that he still cares.
But it’s evident he does.
I don’t know what to do with that.
Fuck.
I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah.”
“I mean, what the hell could be the worst phone call if it wasn’t Elise—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head, unable to say the words, and honestly, I can’t blame him. I can’t even think of Ma that way.
But I don’t know if I should tell him. I mean, at this point, I don’t really have much to lose—nothing, really. I’ve already lost it all. But he just came back, and if he knows… well.
I guess then, I’ll finally know.
Swallowing the lump of shame that still presses my throat closed, I rasp out, “My father.”
“Huh?” Abel says, distracted as he swipes at his eyes.
He shakes his head and blows out a breath.
“Fuck, that was intense. I’m sorry. I just…
you know your mom. Anyway, you said your father?
” Abel’s brows draw together the longer he thinks about what I’ve said.
“I asked Elise about him before, and she was really vague…” he trails off, looking more confused, and I nod.
“Sounds like her,” I mutter, but I’m secretly really proud. Ma’s always had my back.
“Peris, what the hell is going on?”
I take a deep breath.
It’s now or never, Baxter.
I guess I’ll know if that love he claimed he felt is really true or not after this.
“My father,” I try again, and I’m forced to swallow the bile that’s rushed to my throat.
I clear it and drop my head back between my shoulders to stare up at the white ceiling.
At the textured pattern there because looking at that is better than seeing Abel’s eyes on me, and I honestly don’t know why I’m doing this. Truly.
It’s fucking insane.
But a part of me feels like I should have told him a long time ago. Because maybe if I did…
Fuck.
“My father… Luke,” I say instead with a sneer.
“He molested me for years.” The words are surprisingly easy to get out.
“He was in prison, and he called me that morning to tell me he was getting out.” I blow the rest out in a rush, feeling the bile rising.
Come on, Peris. Just tell him the rest while you still can.
“I went to find you. Despite what had happened, I just knew I needed you, but you were gone. You left and took everything except the one fucking thing I needed to get ahold of you, and I didn’t understand then, and I still don’t understand now.
” And as soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m rushing over to the sink and spewing the contents of my stomach into the basin—which thankfully just happens to be coffee.
“The nightmares…” he whispers the secret softly into the air between us, and I feel myself nod, even as my eyes burn.
Feet thud against the ground, and then, a hand is on my back. I jerk away from the stinging touch. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss before turning the tap on and rinsing my mouth.
Abel doesn’t say a word, but his touch leaves me, and I’m left cold and alone, and it hurts more than I thought it would, but it leaves my thoughts clear and less cloudy, which is what I need.
“I was molested, too,” Abel tells me, and I jerk out of my mind-warped reverie at the startling revelation of his words. They make me feel sick all over again. “And raped,” he adds. “In multiple homes I was in, but there was one that was particularly bad… with Mo,” he says.
“Mo…” I rasp, the name ringing a bell, but I can’t remember why.
“Yeah. Morana.” He smiles softly. “She’s like my sister. I did everything I could to protect her until we got separated, and I lost her.”
“What happened?”
“We got taken out of the home,” is all he says, and I nod, knowing not to push. It’s quiet between us as I distribute the now cold food, but neither of us complain as we sit at the counter and start eating slowly.
After we get about halfway through our food, I glance over at Abel, eyeing him curiously, needing to know.
“Why did you tell me that?”
“Because you told me,” he says easily, and his pale grey eyes are so soft and sincere, I know I could lose myself in them if I let myself.
My heart clenches. “A secret for a secret, huh?” I try to lighten the mood, and it seems to work. Abel snorts, but his sharp features are void of any of his usual terseness.
“Something like that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Peris. Truly.”
“It doesn’t matter now, Abel,” I say, feeling myself stiffen. I don’t want his apologies.
“I know. But I’ve always felt it and wanted you to know.”