Chapter Nine
Harley
I needed to get out of here.
I felt like the walls were closing in on me, and I would either combust from the constant longing of feeling Carter’s hands and mouth on me, or suffocate from holding my breath so I wouldn’t smell him everywhere I went.
It didn’t help when I ventured out on a walk because in a matter of seconds, he would be out there with me, walking silently behind.
After we had our little talk last week, a talk where I was sure he was tearing down walls and letting me see him, nothing happened. I honestly didn’t know what I expected to happen.
I was positive he felt the same way I did, was sure I saw the desire swimming in his eyes, and one few occasions it looked like he was restraining himself from moving towards me.
However, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Last night, I felt him come up behind me and stand in the shadows, watching me. I almost missed a chord. I was being wrung so tight waiting for him to make a move.
But when nothing happened, I did miss the damned note, and I had to laugh at myself with how ridiculous I was.
Waiting for a man to make a move.
I haven’t done that in years. Haven’t been so insecure for a long time.
These days, when I wanted something, I went for it. It was rare that I indulged, but I did. It usually ended the next morning, something that lasted the whole weekend, but I didn’t put myself in that vulnerable position of trusting someone so completely anymore.
But this, with Carter, was different. I already trusted him. With my body and my songs.
As the days went by, I realized he was the only person I actually did trust completely in all my life.
That should have freaked me out, but the only thing it did was make me want him more deeply. More acutely.
My need for him ran deeper than a handful of nights could provide. And it wasn’t just his body that I yearned for. I wanted all of him. His looks, smiles, and soft, carefully spoken words.
Most of all, I wanted his pain. I wanted those shadows in his eyes, so I could banish them, and only light would remain.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t be farther from the mark.
All those looks and glances were nothing more than my imagination playing tricks on me.
It was more than clear he wasn’t interested. And I was living in hell.
There was one positive in all of that.
All that pent-up desire, and longing for a man who didn’t want me, made up for some damn good lyrics.
If I kept it up at the rate I was going, I would end up with three albums full of songs I wrote for Carter.
I rubbed at my forehead as I entered the kitchen. I didn’t sleep well last night, thanks to the man currently scowling at the mug held up in his hand like it broke his favorite toy.
“Morning,” I muttered.
All I got in response was a grunt.
A damned grunt.
I went to the coffee pot, picked up a mug, and poured the black liquid hoping the smell of it would dull my senses to anything else but its goodness.
When I turned around, I could see he was still standing in the same position as he was when I came in. “Do you glare at your eggs too?”
“Only if there’s no one else to glare at. I have to train on something after all.” Carter quipped as he gave up on his morning task and set the mug down.
All I could do was stare at him with my mouth hanging open.
Did he just… made a joke?
His whole face was changed. He was still glaring, kind of, but I could see him peaking at me out of the corners of his eyes, his mouth twitching, and a boyish charm played peek-a-boo on his handsome face.
It was way too much than I could take.
Before I could do anything monumentally stupid, like run at him, and kiss the living delights out of him I focused on the black liquid in my mug and counted to five.
One…
Two..
“Here, I made breakfast,” he came up close to my back. Too close. I held my breath so that I wouldn’t get hit with a dose of his scent, but it was useless. It was as if my body needed its fix, and no matter my screaming brain, my lungs demanded a deep inhale.
Cardamom, leather, patchouli with a hit of moss hit me.
I watched as he reached over and placed a plate full of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me on the counter.
Suddenly I felt like crying. “Thanks.”
I picked up a plate, turned and started eating the food he prepared for me.
I couldn’t taste a thing thanks to the giant ball lodged in my throat.
How could life be so cruel? Up until now, I didn’t have anyone to take care of me. I was always on my own, always the one who had to make sure I had everything I needed.
And here he was. A man who was taking care of me, who met almost my every need even before I had a chance to voice them. All but one.
Fuck my life. And fuck him for constantly giving me glimpses of the man he was but denying me the thing I wanted the most.
Him.
“I have a difficult question for you,” Carter said before he took a bite.
“What?”
He chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. Chew that and swallowed before he looked at me and asked, “Can you think of anyone who we need to look at? Anyone from your past? An ex-boyfriend or a friend with a grudge?”
My stomach hollowed out and twisted at the same time.
“We looked at your father, but got a dead end. It’s not him. And we need to find this guy.”
My lips felt wooden and I had difficulty swallowing, still I pushed through the nausea, “You found my parents?”
Even after all those years, I was sure they were still together.
My mom worshiped the ground he walked on, and would look away whenever he remembered I existed and rained his brand of love on me.
She ignored the bruises, and tears. Played deaf to my pleas.
But with one snap of his fingers, she came running to him, almost panting. It was honestly sickening.
At first, I thought she was conditioned to be that way.
That he was doing the same thing to her that he did to me, and that was her coping mechanism.
It was a horrible thing, and a source of my shame, but there were nights that I hoped that was true because it would mean she didn’t leave me at his mercy, but was trying in her own way to protect both her and me.
Later, when I was older, I knew that wasn’t the case. She just… loved him.
Him and the life he was providing for her. Drugs, alcohol, and a good time whenever she wanted. And she wanted it constantly.
Carter nodded, eying me. “Do you want to know about them?”
Did I want to know?
A thousand memories washed over me. Countless nights of me crying myself to sleep, wishing for someone to save me from him. From them. Wishing for a normal life. For a mom and dad who loved me. A million bruises pinged their phantom pain all over my body as if to remind me of the pain he inflicted.
“No,” I shook my head, casting my eyes down. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. “I don’t want to know.”
Maybe it made me a bad person, but I wanted to do nothing with them, I didn’t even want to know if they were okay. And honestly, in some dark parts of me, I hoped they weren’t.
I hoped they got what they deserved. I wasn't the kind of person who could forgive and forget.
I had a hard time doing both of that. Forgetting most of all.
“Good,” he grunted. My eyes flew over to his. The cognac in them was sparkling, “They don’t deserve even a second of your attention.”
Hearing his words healed some part of me. I felt lighter than I had been in years.
He gave me half a smile before he sobered up again and pushed, “So, is there? Anyone we should look at?”
My mouth felt dry, but I had to say it. I had to say his name, “Derek.”
Just thinking about him pushed me back into those dark days.
I was positive that life would be better when I left my parent’s house.
I was so sure I was safe.
No more yelling or beatings, mixed with complete ignoring my existence.
While they, or better yet, he ignored me, all I wished was for him to see me. To see the daughter he had. One that did all she could to please him, to make him proud. And when he did turn his eye, and his fists, to me, all I wanted was for him to forget all about me. To go to ignorance again.
It was a vicious cycle, and I couldn’t understand why my mind was playing me like that. Why I was constantly looking out for his approval, for him to be proud of me.
It took me four years of being on my own in the world, of taking care of myself, and countless hours of therapy to understand that it was what he did to me.
There was nothing wrong with those needs.
It was just something that he conditioned me to, and in the end, it was human nature.
We all had a need to be loved by our parents, to make them happy and proud.
And after all that work. After clawing my way out in the light, I thought I was safe.
That I could trust another person with me.
To give myself over to a partner.
I couldn’t be more wrong.
All those nights of crying myself to sleep while growing up should have been forgotten. Instead, they remained my reality.
All those promises he made me, of how we would be happy. Of how I would be safe, and he would take care of me, just as I did him, were nothing but empty words.
But something was different though. The pain was much worse.
I still felt a pang now and then when I inhaled deeply. A reminder of what he did to me. And a promise of what he would do to me if I didn’t save myself.
For the second time in my life, I had to flee a place I called home. A second time in life a person who was supposed to love me and protect me did the exact opposite.
In my dark moments I wondered if there was something wrong with me. Something that I did that granted the pain that was inflicted? Or was I just a magnet for assholes, and that was my fate?
For a long time after I left him, I was completely alone. Because he didn’t just physically hurt me, and he didn’t only diminish my sense of self-worth. He completely isolated me, and vowed a tale of such elaborate lies, even I believed them. I had no one. No friends, not even an acquaintance.