Chapter 15 Scarlett #2
I puff up my cheeks, slowly letting them deflate as I buy myself some time.
My hand moves to his arm, nails dragging back and forth over the ridges of his muscles, absentmindedly tracing the ink that decorates it.
“I was allowed to be a kid here. Have feelings and work through them. You and Nana never made me feel bad for feeling a certain way, even if it was over something stupid.”
He tenses, but quickly relaxes as my hand halts its movement. “Sorry,” he whispers. “That feels really good.”
I smile against him, clearing my throat, my hand resumes its earlier motion. “When I’d try to talk to my parents, I had to hype myself up. Prepare for the battle I knew was coming.”
I wonder if my siblings ever had this issue or if they’re as emotionally stunted as our parents are.
With them, things can be fixed if you throw money at them.
Maybe a shiny new car, but it’s never going to fix what was hurting on the inside.
But they don’t know any better. They never even met Nana, and that, in and of itself, is a tragedy.
A shiver rolls through me, and he pulls the blanket tighter around us. “I’d start strong, but could only get a couple of sentences out before they’d get angry. Agitated that they had to deal with me and whatever I was wrestling with.”
There’s only so much tiptoeing you can do until you just stop trying altogether.
You learn to sit with your feelings alone, push them down, and cover them up with fancy dresses and practiced smiles.
But the ache deep in your soul, the one that says no one understands you, that tells you you're all alone and it’ll never get better, gets louder in the silence.
Then you do things out of desperation, desperation to just be seen, acknowledged.
“When I went off to college, no one knew who I was. I could reinvent myself. I felt so deeply that if I could just not be so emotional, then maybe when I came back, my father would love me like he did before Nana died. But that isn’t who I am. I couldn’t do it. Until…”
Sighing, I hide my face in his chest. “I met this guy. His name was Colton, and he liked the hardened me. Called me a black cat, mysterious and sexy.” I take an exaggerated breath, not brave enough to look up at the man whose every muscle just tensed beneath me.
“I felt seen, validated, so I kept being that girl. He brought more friends along, and by the time we graduated, I didn’t even remember who I was before. ”
A tear breaks free as I look back and realize I don’t talk to any of those people anymore.
I killed the real me for four years of surface-level connection.
“When I came home, my dad gave me a job. Of course he did. He couldn’t have his firstborn not be part of Arias Corp.
But when he saw who I’d become, it was like we were suddenly best friends.
I started wearing dresses that some would see as scandalous in our ‘high society circle’, but the men my father worked with ate it up. ”
Lucas twists his arm, taking my hand in his, squeezing slightly before settling it over his rapidly beating heart. It’s a small movement, but it brings immeasurable comfort.
“I started closing deals, becoming colder on my journey to find the love I got here. I basically existed to close contracts, and I did it with the pair of tits God gave me. Sex appeal was my strength, the key to getting things done, which in turn gave me my father’s time.
But I lost myself. Became a slave to more, just like he had. ”
Digging deep, I find the courage to tilt my head back to look at him. “Somewhere along the way, love started to feel like a way to control and manipulate. He loved me as long as money was coming in, and when it wasn’t, or I didn’t live up to his expectations, I’d get the silent treatment.”
“When I overheard the ranch conversation, it was like the bubble popped, and I couldn’t tell you which way was up at that point.
My entire adult life had been a lie. I could have been here for seven years.
I could have been less confused about who I am and what I stand for.
We could have built the life we always talked about. ”
There it is, the words I’ve never let myself speak out in the world, the ones where I admit I’ve never forgotten about all the plans we made, and he doesn’t even flinch.
“I wanted to be important to someone the way I was to you and Nana so badly that I let myself be hurt by others. I told myself I deserved it, the pain of only being noticed when I performed well was better than acknowledging the ache that grew the longer I was away from here, from you.” His chest rattles with his next breath.
I blink just in time to catch a tear trailing down his cheek.
I reach up and swipe it with my thumb, running my fingers softly over his beard.
His arms tighten around me, pulling me tighter to his chest. “I hate myself so much for not being my own hero, for wanting to be loved so much that I was willing to do anything, because now the idea of loving someone or letting myself be loved feels like a trap. I wanted my father’s love, so I went to school, got a business degree, became a raging bitch, and he was proud of that.
But his brand of love has only ever come with fine print and a shock collar. ”
We’re both quiet for a minute, letting the words sink in.
But then, I decide if we’re going to have this conversation, he needs to hear all of it.
We can’t work through our fears together if we don’t know what the other fears.
“I’m scared that if I let you in, you’ll see all my brokenness and decide I’m not worth the effort.
Or you’ll decide you know what’s best for me and try to determine what we do. ”
He lets out a watery, disbelieving laugh. “You’re a beautiful bird, Lettie. The most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.” His lips meet my forehead, pausing to let them rest for a beat. “Beautiful birds don’t deserve to be caged. I wouldn’t dare try. We soar higher together, pretty girl.”
How does he do it? Always know the words to say. “You don’t hate me?” My finger slides into the ring hanging from his neck. I watch as it zips across the chain the way it does when he’s nervous.
His thumb finds the front of my chin, the rest of his fingers settling underneath as he raises my face. “Don’t hide yourself from me, Lettie, please. There isn’t a single part of you that I don’t think is worth fighting for.” I blink, trying to stop my tears from falling, but it’s no use.
He leans in, giving me a quick kiss before pulling away.
“Your past doesn’t make you unlovable. It doesn't make you unwanted. You’ve been in survival mode for a long time, too.
Rest with me. We both could use a restart.
Let me carry some of that burden. Let me love you the way you should have been loved your entire life.
Let me love you the way I’ve loved you from afar this entire time. ”