by SM Olivier
I stifled a gasp at his confession, listening to him as he continued.
“My grandma always justified her actions by ‘loving’ my mom and showering her with words and gifts she got from the money she received for pimping out her own daughter. It wasn’t until my mom graduated from high school and met a traveling musician, my dad, that she found her escape. My dad took her away from my Grandma. They traveled a lot as he pursued his passion for playing and singing. A few months after he took my mom away, he finally got recognized for his talents. He became an opening act for a well-known country music star.”
That explained how he was so talented when it came to music. I didn’t know if his mother was musically inclined, but I’d heard that we picked up traits from our genes. Well, in theory. I read once that people born into musical families were fifty percent likely to be musically inclined as well.
“Shortly after that, Mom got pregnant with me.”
His Southern drawl brought me from my musings.
“Dad helped heal her and found the help she needed, and they were happy. He continued to rise in fame, and Mom was content to follow him wherever he went. On the way back from one of their gigs, it started pouring down rain. The roads were barely visible. An eighteen-wheeler crossed that center line.”
I covered my mouth as tears fell down my cheeks, knowing what he was about to say. I was horrified by what Golden’s grandma had done, but I was happy his mother had found his father. It was so unfair that his mom and dad had found each other only to have a tragedy tear them apart. Then, eighteen years later, Golden lost more of his family in a vehicular accident.
Who said lightning doesn’t strike twice?
“Dad died on impact,” he continued as he leaned forward and turned the water off.
I had forgotten that we were still sitting in the shower. I felt a whole riot of emotions and tried to figure out the best way to be there for Golden. I knew it was hard for him to talk about his feelings and to bare himself to me. He was stripping back so many layers, revealing more of what lay beneath.
I understood Golden’s need to regroup and pause in his memories. So I stood up and used his washcloth to wipe us both down. I reached out of the shower and grabbed the towels for us. Even though we were in a superior hospital suite, the towels were still thin and rough. I had made sure to grab soft plush ones for his comfort from home.
I handed him his towel and wrapped my own towel around my body. I didn’t push him to talk. Instead, I gingerly helped him dry off. Then I grabbed his clothing. I helped him dress and was surprised he didn’t fight me. He let me put his boxers, sweatpants, and t-shirt on without a single protest.
I wondered how tired he was. I hoped I hadn’t set his recovery back. I felt guilty for giving in so easily.
I slid my matching blush-pink bra and panty set back on, putting on my torn, black skinny-jeans, a thin heather-gray hoodie, black vest, and black knee-high boots. I had wanted a casual “cute” look today. I was feeling better and wanted to look better for the guys.
Golden silently took my hand and led me back out into the room. He headed towards the bed, and I understood he wanted to get comfortable and rest.
“The accident induced my mom into labor,” Golden quietly continued as he laid down on the hospital bed and pulled me into his side. I laid my head on his chest and tried to be there for him. “I was born six weeks early. The accident had done irreparable damage to my mom’s back. She had some slipped disks and all that other fun jazz. She got hooked on pain pills. She found an escape from the constant physical pain and ache of losing my dad.
“I don’t have many memories of her, but the ones I have aren’t the greatest. I suppressed most of those memories. One of my therapists said it was my mind's way of protecting me. Sometimes I’m thankful for it, and other times it frustrates the hell out of me. I remembered the day CPS dropped me off on Grandma’s doorstep, though. I thought I had hit the lottery. She lived in a small but beautiful home. She fed me regularly. She bought me beautiful clothing, game systems, and just spoiled me rotten.
“That lasted for about a month. Then Grandma was introducing me to all my new uncles.”
I closed my eyes as I felt bile rise in my throat. Intuitively, I knew what was coming, and I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.
“Some of them…” He cleared his throat, and I could tell how much this bothered him to talk about.
“Gold,” I said gently. “You don’t have to tell me.”
My love wasn’t conditional to knowing every little detail about his past. There was no fine print or disclaimers he needed to worry about. I loved him for him.
“I need to,” he said with a decisive nod. “They touched me and made me feel uncomfortable. Luckily, one day in school, we had a guest detective, a woman, come in. They were from some special victims unit, and they talked to us about that stuff. I was six. I knew it made me feel bad when those men would touch me. All my attempts to speak out had been shut down quickly before that day.
“This woman told us how men and women would ask us to keep their secret. She informed us that sometimes these sickos would give us toys and treats to keep our silence. That’s precisely what I had been experiencing. She reassured me that we didn’t have to suffer in silence. We were allowed to go to recess after that, but one by one, they took us into the counselor's office and asked us questions about how we felt about the assembly. The second I could, I blurted out my secret. Those men made me feel dirty, and Grandma would get angry and hit me when I told her I didn't like them touching me or asking me to touch them.”
I felt like I was going to get physically ill. On the other hand, I wished the bitch was alive so that I could kill her myself. I would never understand why sick fucks could destroy a child’s innocence in that manner. I never understood how a dog could be put down for biting a child, yet a grown-ass adult with larger mental capacities could harm them irreparably and sometimes get a mere slap on the wrist, if that.
“The detectives got a warrant to search her house,” Golden continued as I gently caressed his chest. He seemed to settle into my touch, and it further confirmed that his “love language” was probably touch. “They found physical evidence of the years of abuse my mom had gone through. They found the records on all the money Grandma had made selling her daughter's body. Grandma kept records of every male that used her daughter over the years since she was six years old.
“They found the payments she was beginning to receive from a thirty-six-year-old man who planned to rape me. You see,” he scoffed, barely hiding the sound of disgust and pain, “she barely got anything for letting those others touch me and me touching them, but oral and penetration? That cost more. She was having a bidding war with my virginity. If I hadn’t said anything to that detective that day, my scars would have run deeper,” he admitted darkly. “Because that weekend, she was going to ‘rent’ me out to that man.”
“Golden…” I couldn’t hide the sob that rose from my throat.
“Shh, shh, shh,” he crooned. “Don’t cry for me, darlin’. I don’t need or want your tears. I need to tell you who I am so you understand if you choose to love me, you’ll realize I’m not whole. I’m not sure I’ll ever be. As much as I love you and want to be with you, I still have issues I need to work on.
“Mam and Da sent me to therapy. They recognized where my anger came from. They worked hard to learn how to cope with my issues and find answers that I needed to heal. They were able to find out my dad wasn’t some deadbeat musician that had knocked up my mother and abandoned her, but that he had loved me, loved her. Despite what my grandma told me. They were able to find out that my mom had really tried. She really did, but the demons were too big for her to handle. In therapy, I learned that I had shut out, or repressed, her overdosing and had lived with her dead body for a week before the school realized I hadn’t shown up in days.”
My shoulders shook, and my heart broke for the tragedies he had endured. I wished
I could hug six-year-old Golden close and tell him he was loved and deserved to be loved. I wished I could erase every pain inflicted on him.
“They went to my grandmother's parole hearing on my behalf,” Golden sounded surprised and still touched for what Mam and Da had done for him. “The system had already sent her to a prison that might as well have been a country club. They had been lenient on her due to her “advanced” age. She was there for four years before she was eligible for parole. Mam and Da hired the best lawyer out there to ensure her stay there.
“I tell everyone my grandma died, and that’s why I was placed in the foster system. She didn’t die A week after she was denied parole, another younger woman, who truly didn’t belong there, found out the truth about why my grandma was there. She told all the other inmates that I had gotten hurt, that she had been sent there for her negligence. Grandma was in full capacity of her mental health at the time but would act like she was losing her mind. This other woman overheard the charges my grandma was originally booked for, realized she had been acting for years, and a week later, she killed her. Justice was finally served on my behalf.”
I wanted to meet the woman who sought retribution on Golden’s and his mother's behalf and thank her. Some might have thought that was a bloodthirsty notion and had complete faith in the system to work as it was intended. However, I was too pragmatic for that. I trusted the system; I didn’t necessarily trust the people in the system. The people in the system were human. Human nature had been proven to fail over the centuries. All it took was a look at our history books to know that truth.
Each person had their own motivation and moral code. Many of them took their jobs and oaths seriously, while others could be swayed by their own biases, beliefs, and other outside factors. Unfortunately, they were the ones continuously failing us, failing people like Golden and me.
Sean should have been locked up a long time ago. Percy, or Pearce Webber, should have been arrested and behind bars. Golden’s grandmother shouldn’t have been eligible for parole for her heinous crimes.
“Lochlann was right,” Golden admitted. “I’m constantly dissecting people, especially those I allow to get the closest. I have this innate need to figure out how they tick, what motivates them. If I know everything about them and they try to hurt me, I’m ready for it. For them. I am determined to strike before they have the ability to break me more. Can you love someone like me, Peyton? Truly? Am I lovable?” He leaned his head against mine.
I heard the vulnerability and insecurity in his voice. He didn’t believe he deserved to be loved. But I was determined to prove to him otherwise.
“You are more than lovable. I love you more today than I loved you yesterday.” I sat up so he could see the truth in my eyes. “You were brave and strong to advocate for yourself as a boy. You have always been the defender of the vulnerable. You take care of your siblings as if they are your own flesh and blood. You fought and did everything in your power to ensure they remained in your care. You do a lot for them and for others. You’re fiercely protective of your pride, my fierce lion, and I’m so lucky to be part of it.”
And just like that, I had a new name to give him on my phone. With his golden coloring and the bravery he’d exhibited time and time again, along with such fierce loyalty, he was very reminiscent of a lion.
“I know you blame yourself way too often,” I continued to reassure him. “Coach would have still taken me no matter how fast you were. Kyler and Sal chose to follow you; you didn’t make them follow you. Yes, you were angry, but you were smart enough not to storm in there, guns blazing. I will always wish you would have stayed home, but for other reasons. I understand why you guys didn't want me to leave the house after my abduction. If I had my way, none of you would ever be hurt again. I love you all, and I can’t imagine living my life without you in it. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I know I want you all in it.”
“Even me?” Golden asked in a small voice as he searched for the truth in my eyes.
“Even you,” I quickly reassured him. “There’s a reason fate brought me to you. You may think you’re broken, but you’re not. Maybe a little bent, like me. I think we all are, but together we make a masterpiece.”
He sighed deeply and pulled me in close. I relished the peace and contentment I found in his arms. I was thankful for answered prayers and the hope for our future. I was grateful I could be lying here with him, even if it was in a hospital. I was so appreciative of another day with them.
Kyler was being moved to another floor today, and the doctors believed his progress was remarkable. Lochlann and Paxton still had to heal from their burns, but they were alive and getting better every day. I had been watching them diligently. I believed it would be no time at all before they were healthy once more. Even amidst all the chaos in our lives, this experience had changed us, surprisingly, for the better.
Our relationships were continually evolving and growing. Zane and I were heading to the city tomorrow and starring in our first music video together. We had leaned on each other a lot the last few days together as we helped the guys and took care of the little ones.
I still felt like a little piece of me−of us−was missing without Crew, but I was starting to believe his absence wasn’t a voluntary one but a forced one. While Kyler and Golden had been in ICU, he had visited, according to Bryce. Crew had looked upset but wouldn’t talk to Bryce. A part of me hoped he would return to us and explain what was going on in his head. However, I knew I had to take my focus off of him and help the others.
Hopefully, one day we would understand why he made the decisions he did. For now, we had to figure out how to move on without him.
We had gone through experiences that most people never would and were made stronger because of them. We had literally gone through fire together. A few of us would forever carry the scars from it all. Some of us still had a long way to heal from it, and the road was still unknown. I knew one of us would need help navigating the fall-out once the smoke cleared. However, I knew, together, we were stronger, and we would continue rising above anything life threw our way.
Like I had told Golden, we might have been bent, but we weren’t broken. While others saw our scars and judged us by our pasts and our experiences, they’d never understand that tough people were made through trials and tribulations. Our life experiences and how we handled them determined if we could withstand the storms when they came rolling in. I had every confidence that my men and I were more than capable of doing so, especially together.
Author's note
First and foremost, I want to thank all my loyal fans that have been patient with me. 2020 was a doozy of a year for all of us. Unfortunately, my creativity, or lack thereof, is affected by my surroundings and emotions. I had personal and family issues while we all navigated our new “norms.” I had to focus my energy on that.
I am and was blessed with an amazing tribe− you know who you are− and family. I encourage everyone that doesn’t have a tribe to find one. You know who they are when they are silent when you need to speak, tell you hard truths when you want to ignore them, they help you laugh when you want to cry. They never judge you, and most importantly, when crap hits the fan they’re right there by your side.
I’m finding my mojo once more, and the characters are speaking to me again. My book children are ready to be heard, and I hope you will remain by my side.
Thank you again to Jenifer Knox for all you do to guide and help me through my book releases. Thank you for editing my books, connecting me with my fantastic Beta team, and giving me open and honest feedback and suggestions. In addition to promoting my books and doing my covers.
Thank you to the wonderful ladies that manage SM Olivier Readers Group, Petra J Knox, Kassi Tieu, and Joy Broomfield.
Thank you to all my loyal readers, my unofficial street team, and giving me “shout-outs” time and time again. I am still in awe and humbled that people actually get as invested in my books as I do
.
Finally, I want to thank my husband and two wonderful children for the constant reminders of why I began this endeavor almost four years ago. Writing and reading have always been a hobby of mine, but five, six years ago, I would have never thought I would—or could!—write books people enjoy reading. Or that I would have so many readers avidly waiting to explore the worlds I create.
Thanks again for continuing my journeys with me!
Books By This Author
Gifted Connections Series
Sanctuary Series