by K. A. Linde
“Hadley will come around,” Devon said softly. She wasn’t sure who she was convincing.
He nodded. “Can we just…talk about something else?” He leaned his head back on the couch.
“Sure.” But she didn’t have anything else she would like to talk about. “What do you want to talk about?”
He was silent, considering an answer. “Why did you leave St. Louis?”
“Uh…” she muttered.
“You said you ran away from your life. What were you running from?” he asked, suddenly staring at her intently.
Devon glanced down at her feet. “I think I’m going to need another shot for that.”
Garrett complied, and the fourth shot of scotch gave her courage.
He slid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “It’ll be okay.”
She hadn’t realized that she had started shaking.
Devon moistened her lips and then turned to look at him. This was just Garrett. It wasn’t some stranger. He had poured his heart out to her, so she could trust him with her secret. Couldn’t she?
“Well, since you told me a story, I’ll, uh…I’ll tell you one of my own.”
“Alright.” As he straightened some in his seat, he stared at her.
She swallowed and tried to meet his gaze. How drunk was she? Could she do this?
Taking a deep breath, she began. “My mama always told me that once in a lifetime, you are given a chance at true greatness. That you would know it when it happened, and it would be true love at its finest. I believed her.” Tears were already hitting her eyes.
“I wanted greatness, just like my mom. Her greatness is my dad, and they found each other in their music,” she told him. “When it hit me, I didn’t know how I could have ever lived another day without it. I don’t know how to explain it, except to say it was like the universe was suddenly in alignment.”
“So…you fell in love?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together.
She could see he was wondering where this was going. She didn’t blame him for his confusion.
“It’s…more than that,” she said, fumbling for the words. “It’s not like fate or soul mates because that makes it sound silly, but it’s a sense of rightness of the way things are meant to be.”
“Alright. I’ll buy that,” Garrett said.
He has no idea, Devon thought.
“Having that with someone opens everything up. Everything is on the table. Trust isn’t even a consideration because there could never be anything or anyone else.”
Garrett shifted uncomfortably.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Devon said.
“I doubt it.”
“Well, tell me,” she insisted. This was hard enough without trying to read him, too.
“Sounds a bit like…obsession to me.”
Devon sighed. “That’s what I thought you’d say. I can’t explain it any other way, so try to be open-minded,” she said. He would need to be open-minded. “I’m not sure when it started exactly, but the sex changed.”
Garrett’s ears perked up at that. “Changed…for the worse?”
She shook her head. “For the better.” Devon bit her lip. When she saw that he was watching, she stopped. She couldn’t believe she was telling this story.
“Not to say the sex was bad before because it wasn’t. It was amazing. In fact, I didn’t believe it could get better. But one day, it was one way, and the next day, I was being held to the bed, forced to comply.”
“What?” Garrett snapped. “Forced?”
Devon nodded. “I didn’t think I would like it. I mean, it sounds really bad. It’s probably why I never talk about it.”
“Isn’t that…rape?” he whispered.
“Don’t use that word,” she said immediately, drawing her knees to her chest. Not that word. Anything but that word. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to say…I don’t know what. Just keep going,” he urged, brushing her blonde hair away from her face.
She looked back up at him, and he smiled. Her mind blurred from the alcohol, and she scooted closer to him. It was better to feel him comforting her through this. “So, after that started, it never stopped. It only escalated. I don’t know if you want details—”
“If it helps you,” he said, allowing her to continue.
She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “He started getting creative—demanding me to do things at any time or any place, holding me down, sometimes choking me. He would come home to find me in the shower and turn the water to the hottest temperature it would go. He would bend me over into the scalding spray, and we would have sex like that. I remember him waiting for me when I got home from school late one night. He threw me over the hood of his car and told me to be a good girl. We had sex at the end of the driveway under a streetlight. Anyone could have seen us. And I let him.”
Garrett was staring at her with a mixed expression. She wasn’t sure how much she should read into it. He looked really interested in what she was saying. How could she blame him? She was talking to a guy about sex, about a particular form of rough sex that he had likely never experienced. The interest was mingled in there with something resembling disbelief. She didn’t know if that meant he didn’t believe that she would put up with it or he didn’t believe someone would actually do this. All she really knew was that he had adjusted his pants, and Hadley had been right about the size of the contents that lay within.
“I didn’t think I would like it at first, but as you can imagine…maybe…” She shifted her eyes away from him. “Well, it kept things interesting. I never knew what he was going to do. That came with a price at times, but the more it happened, the higher the price I was willing to pay. I trusted him completely…until something tipped the balance further.”
“Tipped the balance…how?” Garrett asked curiously.
“It stopped being about sex. I have zero complaints about the sex. When it stopped being about us, it got out of control,” she said, trying to explain. “If I told people about this, I would tell anyone I know to try that kind of relationship. I have never felt more safe and sexy and wanted. You’re looking at me like you don’t believe me, but try it out first, and you’ll come around.”
She crossed her arms against his disbelief. She would never be able to explain this to someone who had never experienced it, and she would never want to change how it had happened. She would never take it back.
“It was more about him being in control that changed everything.”
“Wasn’t he in control during sex?” Garrett asked, looking more curious than judgmental.
“No, not exactly. It was mutual. He might have looked like he was in control, but it was consensual. He would only give me as much as I could handle, and I wanted him to push those limits. It’s a hard thing to grasp…” She trailed off.
How could she explain the next part? How could she make Garrett see the difference? Sex was not the problem. He was the problem.
“He changed, and it had nothing to do with the sex. He needed to control me. He had always been one of those people who asked where I was going and when I would be back. He always had to know. But then, he started asking why was I going there, and he started telling me when I had to be back. Then, I wasn’t allowed to go at all. I just wanted to make him happy because I love him so damn much, but he wanted all the control in my life, which left me with none. That’s when I realized I was no longer a person anymore. I was his object.”
Devon stopped trying to explain and went back into her story. “I was home early from school one day. I wasn’t expecting him, but I could tell something was wrong. And it might sound strange, but I never thought he did any of these things out of anger. He did them out of love.”
“You think he held you under boiling water out of love?” Garrett asked incredulously.
Devon glared at him. “I didn’t say you would understand. The sex was not a threat. It had nothing to do with him being angry w
ith me.”
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Keep going. It was my question. I want to hear the answer.”
Devon didn’t want to continue. She didn’t want to tell him the extent of her story. How could he ever understand what she had gone through and why she had allowed it? “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not the night for this,” she said, standing on wobbly legs.
Holy shit, how much did I drink? she wondered.
“Whoa,” he said, jumping to his feet to steady her.
She didn’t know how he was more stable than her. He had shown up drunk, and then he had proceeded to drink twice as much as her. His hands were on her hips, holding her up, as her head spun so fast that she had to close her eyes. She gripped the collar of his shirt to keep herself standing, and she felt more than heard his intake of breath.
Whoops!
“You should sit back down,” he said, guiding her back to the couch. “I’ll get you some water.”
When he returned with a glass of water, Devon took a few sips of it, thankful for the distraction. The more she talked about this story, the more she missed St. Louis, and the more she wanted to go home. Her heart ached to feel that all over again, for it to be as it once was. Maybe it could be like that again.
“Dev,” Garrett whispered, taking the drink out of her hand and placing it on the table, “what happened that day when you came home early?”
She didn’t want to recall the memories. Suppressing them was easier than reliving them. She tipped her head to the side and settled it against his shoulder. That was easier than facing him.
“That day, he came home and hit me until I was knocked unconscious.”
She definitely heard Garrett’s intake of breath that time.
“I remember waking up, lying on the floor of my bathroom. It was really cold, and I found I had been stripped naked. I couldn’t stop shivering, but I was careful not to move too quickly. My head was throbbing, and my body was splattered in bruises. At first, I couldn’t remember what happened, but when he walked into the bathroom, it all came back to me. I started crying from the pain and the disbelief that he would do this to me. I remember his words. ‘How could you make me do this to you?’ It was my fault. It was all my fault that it had happened.”
Garrett squeezed her knee softly. “Devon, it wasn’t your fault.”
A tear fell from her eye, and she let it roll down her cheek. “It was my fault. If only I had been better to him or if I had done more, he wouldn’t have gotten so upset.” She took a shuddering breath. “I never wanted to make him that unhappy ever again. We had greatness, you know?”
“Dev—”
“I swore I would do better and try harder. I wanted us to work. We had to work. I asked him to promise he would never do it again,” she whispered.
“But he didn’t?” Garrett asked.
“No, it happened again,” she said. “Not right away, but it did. I just couldn’t figure out how I could do any better. I was everything to him. I tried so hard to be what he needed.”
“If you think that, then why did you end up coming to Chicago?”
Devon could hear the desperation in his voice. He didn’t understand. He didn’t get what she had gone through. This was why she had never told anyone. She couldn’t break the silence only to suffer through disbelief. She couldn’t stand the thought of people judging her, or worse, people pitying her decisions. She had made the right choices for her at the time. Now, what happened if she returned…
Her heart sank at the thought she’d had every day since leaving. Would it all be as it was before? Would he do worse? Or would he realize that she was everything he needed?
“We started in this cycle that I didn’t think would ever break. He would get so angry, and I would take the brunt of it. Sometimes, I just cowered and cried until he forgave me. Other times, I would get angry and storm out. But then, I stopped getting angry. Leaving was not an option. It only made things worse. It made his anger more frequent.”
“You just kept letting this guy…hit you?” Garrett asked.
“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “I love him.”
“Dev—”
“It got worse,” she whispered. “I had to cancel classes for a week.”
“What for?”
“I could normally hide the bruises…that week I couldn’t,” she whispered, staring down at the carpet. “He never left bruises on my face again. It raised too many red flags.”
Garrett hissed through his teeth at the imagery. He didn’t say anything. What could he say? She didn’t want to look up at him and read what was clearly written on his face, so she pushed through, just wanting to get this story over with.
“But that wasn’t what made me leave,” she told him. “I had just finished my last final for the semester. When I finished, I was supposed to meet my favorite professor in his office to discuss my plans for next year. I got a text, telling me to meet him instead. I rescheduled plans with my professor and rushed to see him. I didn’t want to be late. When I got back, I should have smelled trouble. Candles were lit everywhere. There was a bottle of champagne and even rose petals.”
“That’s a sign of trouble?” Garrett asked.
Devon nodded against his shoulder. “It should have been, but I saw it as a romantic gesture. I saw it as a way to get back to the way it had been. He popped open the bottle of champagne while I stripped down for him. I thought it was going to be that kind of night. It felt like we were finally back on the right track.
“But then, he started asking questions about my professor and why I was going to see him. I told him that I had tutoring, of course, and that my professor wanted to congratulate me for a job well done this semester. It was an odd conversation. I mean, he didn’t like that I had tutoring, but that week off had put me so far behind that I had to use every opportunity to get caught up. He didn’t believe me.
“He grabbed my arm and squeezed as hard as he could, forcing me backward against the bed. He begged me to tell him the truth. I cried and cried and cried, telling him that I had told him the truth. There was nothing more for me to tell.” Devon took a deep breath and then continued.
“I felt like the bones in my arm were going to snap, but the pain evaporated when he yanked a candle off the table and held the flame to my skin. I screamed where it touched me. He said he would stop when I told him the truth. I tried to tell him that I was telling the truth, but he slapped me across the face so hard that I saw spots. He told me I was lying. Whenever the flame neared my skin, burning wax was dribbling down my body. He said that if I didn’t tell him, then I didn’t leave him any choice. I couldn’t convince him, and the pain was blinding. He moved the flames to the area, uh…just above my…” Devon pointed down to her nether region. She blushed but continued. “The feel of my flesh burning so near all those nerve endings was the most intensely painful thing I’ve ever endured, and soon, I blacked out.”
Garrett reached forward and threaded his fingers with hers. She didn’t know where it came from, but it was a sign of strength. Devon sighed and used her other hand to pull down the front of her tiny sleeping shorts.
“See,” she said, pointing at the scar right above her sensitive skin.
“Fuck,” Garrett grumbled.
Devon pulled her shorts back up, ashamed by the conversation. She had made him think she was cheating, so she had pushed him over the edge. Still, even she could see that his punishment was excessive, and her realization had spurred her to action.
He had violated her trust, the one thing she had given over to him completely without him ever having to ask. He had taken everything they’d had and torn it down brick-by-brick for his own deluded sense of control. He had beaten the trust out of her. He had ruined their sex life, ruined their relationship, and ruined her.
“When I woke up, he was gone. A couple days later, I was on the first train to Chicago.”
GARRETT DIDN’T MOVE for what felt like forever. Devon wanted to
see his reaction. She wanted to know that he didn’t think any differently of her. She wanted to know a lot of things, but she wasn’t brave enough to look up at him.
She felt his heavy sigh and the shift of his body toward her. She breathed him in. Her mind was still wondering too many things. She couldn’t believe she had told her story. It had been a secret for so long. She hadn’t wanted to risk someone finding out. What would people think of her…of him? What would they do?
Her mind closed off to that thought.
“Devon,” he said finally.
He pulled her toward him and circled his big, strong arms around her. She tensed, unsure where this was coming from. Was he pitying her? She didn’t need his pity.
“I hope you see your strength the way I do.”
Strength? I ran away. I wanted to yell that at him. I’m not strong. I’m weak. I couldn’t face my fears, so I ran.
She didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t let her go, so she relaxed into his embrace, accepting it for what it was. They were both in a rough spot, separated from their lives. Devon had run, and Garrett had faced his problems head-on. Either way, it had ended with them sitting in the same room. So maybe facing her problems head-on would have turned out the same way. Or maybe she wouldn’t have ended up unconscious. Instead, she would have ended up dead.
That thought made her break the embrace. She stared forward at Garrett. She felt the tears on her cheeks, hot and uncomfortable. She hated crying, especially in front of people.
Garrett reached up and pushed her hair off her face. She sniffed as the tears fell faster from his affection. She didn’t need someone to care for her. She could take care of herself. That thought made her cry harder.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered.
His thumbs brushed under her eyes like he had done when she had woken up from her nightmare on the couch. She couldn’t stop her tears, and his help only made it worse.
She didn’t know how she had any tears left. Hadn’t she cried enough? Or were these tears of a different nature? Her throat constricted, and she coughed. She had never once thought that running away was the right thing to do. It was impulsive. It was something Hadley would do. Devon was always the rational one who wanted to work things out. She had stayed with him well past the point she should have. And for what? To be frightened and accused of things she hadn’t done? To be hit, burned, and left unconscious?