17. Demi
Ikept quiet as he seemed to have an internal battle, hoping he’d come to the conclusion I was someone he could talk to.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I think you know I didn’t have a great childhood,” he started.
I nodded but didn’t say anything.
“My parents were drug addicts. My dad was a drug dealer, so we always had people coming to our house. Some would come and go, some would come and stay for a few hours, and then some would stay for a few days.” He looked out to where the lake was in the black night, and I wondered if it was easier for him to feel like he was talking into the dark nothingness than to have to talk to someone face-to-face.
“I’d hide under my bed.” I didn’t recognize the monotone voice coming out of him, but he kept going, almost like he was forcing the words to come out. “Most of the time they were too high or hopped up on whatever drugs they were on to find me.”
“Most of the time?” I asked in a soft voice.
He nodded, like it was the only answer he could give me. “My dad’s anger and abuse had no rhyme or reason. You never knew when he was going to strike. My mom never tried to protect me. She hoped he would take his anger out on me instead of her. She blamed me for my dad changing, claiming they’d been happy before I’d come along.
“As you know, my grandfather is a wealthy man. My mom grew up with everything she could ever want. Her mom died when she was four years old, and my grandfather did the best he could raising her, but he’s not the most warm and fuzzy kind of guy. Mostly, nannies took care of her. She always had a rebellious spirit, and one day when she was sixteen, she ran off with my dad.
“Two years later, I was born. From what I understand, their life was chaotic, and they only contacted my grandfather when they needed money. My parents wouldn’t let him be in my life. It wasn’t until I was fifteen and my mom overdosed that my grandfather was able to swoop in.”
A small gasp escaped me. I’d had no idea his mom had died from a drug overdose.
“He put my dad in jail and then took full custody of me,” he continued, like he hadn’t dropped some big truths, just stating facts.
“So that’s the long, ugly story of why I don’t want to get close to anyone, why I don’t trust anyone. I couldn’t even trust my parents. I wasn’t even safe with my mom.” His voice broke on the word mom, and it had me wanting to reach out to him, but I kept still.
His jaw clenched, as he continued to look out into the dark night. “I’ve spent so many hours of my life wondering why they didn’t give me up for adoption. They never wanted me.” He shook his head, a tortured expression on his face. “Anything would have been better than living in that house.”
Finally he turned his gaze to me, his eyes glistening in the dark. “And I hate that I feel guilty that my mom dying was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I couldn’t sit here any longer and not touch him, not try in some small way to comfort him. I set down my mug on the coffee table next to us, moving to go sit by him. He scooted over on the couch, making room for me to lie next to him. I rested my head on his chest and put my arms around him. My eyes were watery too, and I hated how he’d had to go through so many horrible things. There was no way I could ever comprehend everything he’d gone through or understand how he felt, but I could be here for him, someone he could lean on.
He wrapped his arms around me too, like it was the most natural thing, like we’d done this a million times. And as much as I wanted to revel in the moment and enjoy being in Cannon’s arms, I couldn’t. My mind was stuck on everything he’d told me. This wasn’t a romantic hug. This was a comforting friend hug, and it had me somehow feeling even more special. Knowing Cannon didn’t get close like this with anyone but was willing to open up to me and let me be close to him in a more personal way—it meant a lot to me.
“My whole life changed when I moved in with my grandfather,” he said, his voice low, and I could feel the rumble of it through his chest. “I went from being the scrawny, dirty kid at school with no friends, the kid whose clothes never fit and usually had some kind of fading bruise or healing scab, to going to a private school with uniforms, access to more food than I could ever eat, and someone in my life who actually cared about how I was doing.”
“I’m so glad your grandfather came to take care of you,” I said. Next time I saw him I was going to give him an extra hug. He might be known as being reserved and aloof, but he’d always liked me, claiming I was the granddaughter he never had.
“I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for him,” he said, his voice full of gratitude. “I threw myself into school, working hard to not only be different from my parents, but hoping to repay my grandfather in some small way.” He pulled the blanket tighter around me. “When I got into Stanford, he was so excited. At first I was doing it all for him, but I grew to love what I was studying. And meeting West, and being roommates my freshman year, it finally felt like my life was beginning to click into place. In some ways, it feels like my life didn’t start until then.”
“And then my parents took you in.” I tipped my head back to look at his jawline and profile. “I remember the first time West brought you home. You definitely didn’t look like a scrawny kid to me.”
His chuckle rumbled against me. “Admitting to checking me out the first time you saw me, huh?”
I lightly smacked his chest. “I blame my lapse of judgment on being sixteen.”
He grabbed my hand where I’d hit him and held it against his chest. “I’ll let you get away with that lame excuse.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me.
“I remember seeing you for the first time when you came home from your two-year gap.” His voice took on a serious tone. “You left a girl and came back a woman.”
Did that mean that he’d possibly been harboring some kind of crush on me for the last two years? My mind raced to comprehend what he was saying.
His thumb moved gently back and forth against my palm as he spoke. “All of a sudden, our three-year age difference didn’t feel like much of a difference at all.”
“I had no idea you saw me as anything other than West’s little sister,” I said quietly. “Not until these last three weeks. And even then I didn’t know what you thought of me.”
“I definitely have some thoughts about you.” The teasing lilt to his voice had me smiling, a heat spreading throughout my body. “But it doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t be good for you.”
My brows pushed together. What did he mean he wouldn’t be good for me? How could he possibly know that if we’d never tried, never even gone down that road?
“Says who?” I asked, holding my breath.
“Says anyone who wants to protect you.” He said it as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
I lifted myself up enough to look at him. “Protect me from what? You?” I asked incredulously. “Just because you feel like your past doesn’t make you good enough, doesn’t mean you aren’t.”
“It’s not just that, Demi.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m not capable of being in a relationship. I don’t know how to be with someone like that. And I’m not going to put you—or us or your family—at risk.”
What was he talking about? I must have been looking at him like he was a crazy person. I wanted to shake him and tell him that being romantically involved with someone wasn’t rocket science.
I opened my mouth to tell him just that, but then closed it. If he didn’t think trying to make something work between us was worth the risk, I wasn’t going to talk him into it. Having to talk someone into being with you wasn’t exactly the stuff of romantic dreams.
Instead of responding, I only nodded my head. He didn’t want to take our relationship any farther, and who was I to question that? I didn’t know if he needed more time or possibly a different girl, but I wouldn’t push him into anything.
I sat up, untangling myself from him. “It’s late. We should probably get to bed.”
His eyes roamed my face as if he was trying to read through my words, and I hoped I had schooled my features enough so he couldn’t figure it out.
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Okay.”
We made our way inside, putting the blankets back before heading upstairs. We’d both remained silent since coming inside, but as we reached our rooms, I placed my hand on his arm to stop him from going into his bedroom.
“Thank you for sharing your past with me,” I said gently. “I know that wasn’t easy for you. I’m sorry for everything you went through. No one should have to deal with such harsh realities, especially at such a young age. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m never far away.” I let my hand drop, giving him a small smile.
Before I could turn and head into my room, he wrapped me up in a hug. In my shock it took me a second to catch up with what was happening. I hurried to hug him back and felt him breathe me in.
“Thanks, Demi.” He held me for a few more seconds before pulling back, lightly placing a kiss on the top of my head before letting me go, taking a step back.
We stared at one another, neither one of us moving to leave. The hallway seemed smaller now in the darkness, heavy with what felt like forbidden desire. We both felt more for each other than we were letting on, that we were fully willing to admit. But my hands were tied. He didn’t want to take things farther, no matter how much we both wanted something different.
My eyes dipped down to his mouth. The lips that had just kissed the top of my head in the most caring and sweet way. This man had me so wrapped around his finger that if he wanted to kiss me right now, I’d totally let him, despite knowing he didn’t think he was capable of giving me anything more than that.
But heaven help me, I wanted to kiss him. Who cared about rationale or what would happen once the kiss was over? I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and pull his mouth down to mine, our lips crashing together in what I was sure would be the sweetest ecstasy.
I watched as his Adam”s apple bobbed and his hands clenched at his sides. My thoughts must have been written all over my face.
Knowing that I had probably made a fool out of myself, I took a step back, casting my gaze to the floor. “Good night.”
I practically bolted through my bedroom doorway, barely hearing him say good night before shutting the door.