Chapter 13 #3
Really? I wondered if I was any good at kissing, how I compared to other girls he kissed, but I didn’t ask.
Keeping quiet seemed prudent. After all, if I asked, would he think I was needy?
Time passed, our breaths slowing evenly together, and I pressed my head against his chest to hear his heartbeat.
He wrapped me up tighter against him, our legs twisting until we were connected.
His breathing changed, slowing, and when I lifted my head again, his eyes were closed.
Heat suffused my cheeks as I realized Barrett had fallen asleep in my bed.
I should kick him out . I bit my lip, reveling for another moment or two in the warmth of him against me and the easy steadiness of his heartbeat in my ear.
The prudent thing would be to wake him gently and send him downstairs to his granny’s.
But I didn’t want to move. He felt so lovely, warm and unthreatening, and I didn’t think he even meant to fall asleep.
I lifted an arm to hit the switch above the bed, cutting the light.
As darkness settled over the room, he murmured something I didn’t catch and pulled me closer.
My head rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in my ears.
I closed my eyes and sleep tugged me under—dreams blurring with reality between one breath and the next.
Suddenly, I was at my desk in Chicago, back in the biggest room I’d ever called my own.
Not that it meant much—it was just a two bedroom apartment, still smaller than my aunt’s sprawling place.
Music blared through my headphones—the latest pop song everyone at school danced to.
I called it market research for Poor Relation .
If the cool kids were doing it, she would know.
I glanced around. Everything was exactly as I remembered it—nothing had changed in the two months since I’d seen it last.
Dreams are strange like that. I knew I was dreaming, but I couldn’t control any of it.
I tried to recall the word for people who could, but the thought slipped away as I looked around again.
The gray walls felt darker now, like they were pressing in, shrinking the room until the open space felt like a hungry mouth about to close over me.
That couldn’t be good.
I tugged out my earbud, and memory struck like a slap. That’s right . I’d done the same thing that night. Otherwise, I never would have heard him enter.
My aunt’s boyfriend: Thaddeus Blackthorn.
Even his name was such a cliché of wealth and power—so absurd I wouldn’t have used it in my own work.
He told me to call him Ted, though, so that was what I did. Teddy Black, my aunt called him. I just said Ted, because I always did as I was told.
His tall, muscular physique proved how much time he spent in the gym.
He might work at a desk, but he loved to work out.
Then again, he drank enough martinis, it likely took a lot of work to keep off spare weight.
His dark hair, meticulously styled, framed an intimidating face, one that sent chills down my spine in the ever shrinking room.
I should’ve known to be wary of him, but he never hit any of my alarms, being kind to me, which was enough.
Him being kind meant my aunt acted kind, and it worked for me.
My beautiful Aunt Amelia was blasé about life, had never wanted children, and wasn’t happy when I showed up on her doorstep. Still, when Ted had been so nice to me, she thawed a little bit.
Regardless, enough time passed that I never suspected him. I didn’t know I needed a lock on my door, or that the smiles he gave me weren’t because he was indulging a neglected, sad poor relation. Back then, I didn’t know he wanted something else from me.
I knew I wasn’t going to have sex with him. Not ever.
“What are you doing in my room?” I practically shrieked the question, the room still shrinking around me.
I jolted awake, jerking in the bed in New York City. Not Chicago, I realized as I managed to breathe again. I felt my body pressed against Barrett, my heart racing. I tried to calm it, reminding myself Chicago was over. He didn’t rape me.
He tried but I stopped him. I rubbed at my eyes, wishing I could so easily scrub away the memories or the taint they seemed to leave on my soul.
What time is it? Darkness shrouded everything in night still, and Barrett slept soundly, his breathing even.
I let out the breath I held, and it came out more like a broken sob. I didn’t mean to make a noise, hoping to keep my midnight terrors to myself. Barrett’s eyes cracked open, the glitter of them catching me despite the dimness of the room.
“You okay?” His voice was low, barely a whisper, a drowsy mumble of noise. If I left him alone, he probably would just fall asleep. Instead of dozing off again, though, he stroked my hair away from my forehead in a slow, even rhythm.
I swallowed, blinking fast, resisting tears that threatened at his kindness. “I’m so sorry. Bad dream. Or memory, whichever.” Why am I telling him this? I shook my head, annoyed with myself for the midnight confession.
The jazz music didn’t play anymore in the earbud, so his phone had probably died.
Still, it felt as if he lay with me in some kind of bubble of privacy, so I wanted to admit something I never said aloud before.
Probably, I should tell him to go home or tell him to go back to sleep, but the temptation ate at me and a tear escaped the corner of one eye.
He kissed it away, and my breath trembled out of me. He said, “Tell me, Sweetheart. Tell me what happened. You’ll keep my secrets, and I’ll keep yours, okay?”
“I can’t … It isn’t something I want you and your brothers to discuss over group text. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
Barrett winced and kissed my other cheek. “You have my word.”
I added, “It isn’t that I have a problem with them, or that I want to keep secrets from them in particular. It’s just not the kind of thing that should be discussed at all . Never mind. Go back to sleep.”
He rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him so my head rested against his chest. “Alatheia, you can tell me. I won’t tell them.
You can tell them when and if you want or tell them things you don’t tell me, if it makes you happy.
I promise, you can trust me. I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like everything must be all of us or none of us. ”
I snorted. “If my aunt came in here right now, she wouldn’t even be surprised to find you.
In Chicago, my other aunt’s boyfriend tried to have sex with me one night.
I fought back. When my aunt burst into the room, instead of helping me, she said I came onto him.
She then beat me pretty hard and sent me here after that art gallery incident.
That’s why they sent me here. They think I’m …
I’m the kind of person who would try to seduce a fifty-year-old man.
Then lie about it. So … yeah, that’s what I was dreaming about. It happens almost every night.”
The silence after my statement was deafening. My heart beat so loud, I thought it might come out of my ears. Was he judging me? Did he think I was that kind of person, too?
Finally, he spoke. “What’s his name? The guy who came in your room.”