by Leanne Davis
“You ran away.”
“Yup. Teenage runaway.”
“So… Why not just tell me that from the start?”
“For five years I’ve stayed away, and more than three of those were spent living on the streets. I started out by going south, then I worked my way north and eventually stayed in a tent, in rainy-ass Seattle. Because there were drugs. Lots of drugs. And sex. Useless and pointless. There was stealing and…”
“You prostituted yourself.”
“Yes.” She shut her eyes. That look. What she saw on his face was exactly what she hoped to avoid by lying. She never wanted anyone from her life now to know what she’d done in the past. No one could know about it. Not polite society. Nobody decent. But most especially, she didn’t want Ryder to know. At first, it was obvious: he was a cop. Then it was because she began to like him so much before she loved him too and couldn’t risk the chance of losing him.
“You really performed sexual acts for money?”
She swallowed and kept her face down. “Yes.”
“Like out on the streets? Giving guys blow jobs for a few bucks behind a building?”
“I—I didn’t do it a lot. Just when I got really desperate. I… no, we weren’t in any fancy hotels or anything. It was dirty street sex just like you’re picturing.”
He dropped his arms and ran his hands through his hair before he started to pace. He was shaking his head. “Did you happen to get yourself tested by any chance? Make sure you’re clean and not transmitting some nasty strain of venereal disease or any other STD?”
She flinched at his harsh tone. “Yes. Of course I did. I’m fine. I mean… I’m clean.”
He stopped shaking his head. She had no doubt that first thing tomorrow morning, he would see his doctor and get a complete physical. She bit her lip, feeling so much filthier than she ever had living on the street. “It was for food, Ryder. Not for fun or pleasure. You know how I am about sex. That’s what sex has always meant to me, a chore for fast cash. I certainly didn’t pursue it anymore than I had to.”
“Food, Tara? Really? Were you really doing it for food… or for drugs?”
She sighed, her heart sinking fast. His words and inflection made her sound so gross and disgusting. She flinched. None of her inner monologues about what she was and used to do ever made her feel this bad. “Both.”
He nodded.
She slouched forward. It was over. He was lost to her. This. Them. Whatever this might have gone on to be. She felt it deep in her gut. If she’d been honest with him from the start, he’d never have been interested in her. In the middle of whatever they were sharing, he’d have surely dumped her. He wasn’t in deep enough to look past this shit. Now? After being lied to, he couldn’t get past it. There was never a good time she could have told him. Inevitably, it would have ended their relationship, no matter what. So her heartbreak and the guilt she felt now were also inevitable.
“What made you stop?”
“I woke up after being mugged and losing all the money I had. I hadn’t bathed in weeks. I was filthy and disgusting and decided I finally had enough. I wanted more from life. I met only one friend during those entire five years. Jerome. I told you that he was shot. That really happened. He was just another runaway. A transgender who suffered much more than I could ever imagine. He was formerly Jenny, and as Jenny, he was raped and sodomized at school. Can you even imagine? Then he got kicked out from his home. We found each other on the streets and protected each other. He had my back and soon became my best friend. And then he was gone. After he died, there was no one left for me to live for. I briefly contemplated not living any longer. But then… I don’t know, I had this hunch I had to get off the streets now, or I would never be able to. Besides, after I lost Jerome, I wanted to get out.”
Silence followed her declaration. All of her secrets and scars and fears were revealed and exposed. The things she sweated over and often woke up from at night. She was reliving her sordid past, but she had never, ever felt the need to share it. She’d have taken that all to her grave. That’s how badly she wanted to banish it from her life. It was part of the past, and forever lost in the past, along with the girl she used to be.
Suddenly announced in a confident tone, something she was now sure was true. After listing out her history, she realized it wasn’t her true self anymore. “I am not that girl anymore. I am not that woman. I had to become the person I was destined to be. I don’t have to be the girl on the streets anymore and I’m not. I was only a girl then. A lost, stupid, unhealthy girl. I’m more mature now, a grown-up, healthy, adjusted, and eager-to-improve myself woman. I hoped… I still hope you can see the difference.”
“You had a rich family you could have gone back to. Tamasy Industries? They must be worth millions. But you had to fuck sleazy guys for pennies?”
“Sounds so easy to you, huh? Yes, they—my mother’s family—had millions and my grandfather and father saw plenty of successes and earned their clout with Tamasy Industries. None of that had anything to do with me. The way they treated me… no, I had no choice over what I did.” She stiffened her back.
“You’re expecting me to believe you didn’t blow that cop to avoid being charged with something worse?”
“Don’t you get it? I didn’t do anything. He made them up. He had me on prostitution and that’s it. Nothing really. No jail time. It hurt me, and no one else. But he decided I should be punished by blowing him. I refused.” She shuddered. “But I was homeless, dirty, and poor. What could I do against a big, bad cop like him? He drew his gun and set it right here.” She touched the right side of her head, pointing dead-center at her temple. “He pressed the cold, hard barrel right into my skin. Actually, he pushed on it. He wasn’t content to leave it there. I’ll never forget what it felt like. Then he pushed me off the seat and down on my knees in front of him. He stared at me, and I could see all the glee in his eyes along with his filthy smirk. He was challenging me. I tried to close my eyes but he pressed the gun harder and insisted that I watch. Slowly, using only one hand, he undid his trousers and pulled himself free. He took his other hand, the one holding the gun, and shoved it at the back of my head. What else could I do? I did it.”
Ryder’s expression paled with disgust and repulsion. He could hardly acknowledge that things like that actually went on. Tara understood. The upstanding Ryder Kincaid and probably most of the staff with whom he worked would never think of such nefarious goings on. Tara realized it wasn’t all cops. But maybe Ryder didn’t realize that some were.
“Why do you think I hated you at first? Because of your stupid uniform. I just didn’t want to look at you because it reminded me of that moment. And your gun… Do you remember how I was?”
Ryder’s mouth was tight. “This is the most I’ve heard from you about anything.”
“Yes. I keep things inside. That’s because I hate most of my life. I still have no desire to talk about it. It totally sucked until I came here. It hasn’t been just you… but the café, Mrs. Huskin giving me a chance and a place to live. Chloe, Petra, Chet and Dok… all of them have helped me change and grow. I found an entirely new, real and most of all, a decent life in this small town that has irrevocably changed me. I never knew I could feel like this. This happy. Or alive. Or so much at peace.”
He stared at her long and hard. Tara sighed and got to her feet. “It wasn’t a lie. Not who I’ve been since I’ve been here and especially, not with you. I guess I can’t make you forgive me or understand. I actually thought you might though.”
“I poured my heart out to you and told you all about my murdered wife. You didn’t think then to be honest with me?”
“She was the reason why I wasn’t honest at first.”
“How do you fucking figure that?” He grew agitated and yelled at her. Then he started pacing.
“Because you said she left you and her family without a word, and was never heard from again. Don’t you remember what you said? The same thing I did to
my family. I didn’t want to lose you for acting like Ebony.”
“And when you found out she’d done no such thing, you realized… what? You were so much worse than her now?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Tara shook her head. “I think… I think I’m done apologizing to you…or anyone else. I fucking lied because I had no choice. No decent person can understand or look past drug and prostitution charges. I know that. You know that. So I lied. I fudged it. Honestly? Doesn’t seem that shocking to me. Not after the life I led. But you know what I also realized, Ryder?” Tara stood up and pinned her shoulders back. “I realized that I’m still a decent person. I acted out of desperation and tragic circumstances. I’m not asking for your permission or your forgiveness. I only told you because you have the right to know. But my brother came back for me. I have a job. And I intend to stay here. If you choose to fire me, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to beg you for what you want to withhold from me. Forgiveness. The crazy part is, after watching you with Wyatt, I learned how to forgive myself. That’s what I needed most of all. I don’t need yours… although I would like it.”
She got to her feet and walked out of the bedroom without looking at him again. Not for permission. Not for forgiveness. Not for a shared hope of what was in store for them. She sucked in a breath and shut off her tears. No more. After spending her life hating herself and her circumstances, she’d found peace. She no longer hated her surroundings and the person she was here in town. She intended to keep building on that, with or without Ryder Kincaid. She knew that after her indignant anger wore off, losing Ryder would rip her heart into shreds. But she’d still stay rooted and deal with it, always moving forward.
She pulled out her phone and texted her brother for a ride. A small smile appeared on her lips. She’d never done that before. Her crusty, sad, quiet heart suddenly felt brighter, bigger, and fuller. She was ready for a life that was very different from the one she just finished describing. She wasn’t a victim. Not anymore. Nor was she a criminal or an offender of anything. Not now. She set her shoulders squarely back. And now that she was once more Tara Tamasy, her first mission would be learning how to drive and getting a damn license. She refused to rely on anyone for the things she could damn well learn to do for herself.
Tristan pulled up twenty minutes later. Sitting on the front steps, she glanced back at the house, and a kind of sadness descended over her. But she smiled dry-eyed at her brother. Kylie wasn’t with him.
“I take it things didn’t go well.”
“Things went like I thought they would if he ever found out.” She shrugged and touched Tristan’s arm. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. But I’m glad you found me and came here. I mean it, Tristan. And I’d like to tell you exactly what I told him and then… we’ll never talk about it again.”
Tristan listened quietly as she told him what happened to her. When she told him the part about the cop who forced her to give him a blow job, he pulled off to the side of the road, and his hands were shaking with rage. “Tell me his name. We’ll fucking ruin him. I mean it, Tara. No one can get away with doing that to you.”
She sighed. “Tristan, it’s nothing. He probably won’t even remember it. Things like that… if you’d been there, you’d just accept it because it’s out there. Sexual assault, sexual favors, drug deals, all of it tends to blur the line between right and wrong. I can’t tell you. But thank you for not being repulsed by me.”
“Repulsed? You’re my sister. I know why you were out there to begin with. My girlfriend was raped by my brother. Do you think I’d ever blame her or think it was her fault?”
She let out a long breath. “Kind of amazing that you managed to get past it. Tell me. About it. About her. About her family. Tell me about this wonderful family who has welcomed you in. It sounds… unbelievable.”
Tristan started talking and Tara listened, lifting her heart as she heard about the life he and Kylie shared in California, the things they’d endured and how far they’d evolved by being together. It gave her hope. Somewhere, someday, she’d find a good, decent, upstanding man, who could make her heart ache with love and her body strum with want. She’d find him. She knew she would. And she’d find love. Real love. True love. She’d never settle for anything less. She’d never compromise by taking a dysfunctional asshole who didn’t treat her right. No. She’d learned the price. She’d break the cycle. She was better than that. She even thought she might have already experienced that type of love.
Tristan tried to make her stay with him and Kylie, but she declined. Going home, to her place, the private spot she created in this big, dark world, was a gift to herself. With or without Ryder, she managed to carve out a life there.
The next day, she saw her brother and his girlfriend. She showed them the Bridge of the Gods and the wind surfers and the dam with its fish ladders and Beacon Rock, and all the sights she now adored and the places she referred to as her home.
The next day, Tara returned to work, prepared for whatever lay in store for her.
She instantly came face to face with Chloe. She was back.
****
Ryder finished writing up a ticket for the kid who was caught in possession of a stolen firearm. He sighed, flipping the notebook shut after entering all the information into the laptop mounted on his dashboard. He sighed, rubbing his neck. The muscles felt tight and kinky and painful.
He glanced down and his gun caught his eye. He was always respectful and aware of his gun. Safety was the first priority. But he never stared at it as a weapon like he did now. Almost as if the sight of it disgusted him. But that’s what it did as he pictured it being pressed against Tara’s head. Her kneeling on the ground, vulnerable, forced to lean over… Ryder shut his eyes at the visual and tried to ignore it.
Shaken and confused, he felt unsure of what to do next. He opened his eyes and smacked his fist against the steering wheel. She was contrite, upset, and yet oddly strong yesterday. Her voice was louder and surer and cockier than he’d ever heard from Tara. The timid, scared woman who was unable to even look at him was gone. In her place was a new Tara. A sure Tara. A confident Tara who had no problem speaking up for herself.
Having a home, food, and clothes would no doubt help shore up one’s confidence. The signs were all there, weren’t they? She admitted being from a rich family that she no longer stayed in contact with. He realized she’d been recently poor by her clothes, her shoes, and even her hair. She frequently asked him not to ask about her history. So she hadn’t really lied. Other than not telling him her real name, she never lied.
He felt he knew her, right down to the core. Well enough that she was open to him and honest. Any facts he didn’t know about were secondary to her integrity and the kind of person he knew her to be. The most important thing he realized about Tara, and felt sure enough about, even after knowing her for only nine months, was that he was willing to marry her.
He was that crazy in love with her and every single thing about her. Until this. It made him feel dirty after Ebony’s remains were found.
Doubts festered in him and he didn’t know what to do.
Then he glanced up. He saw the man he recognized as Tristan Tamasy walking towards his parked truck. He was on the short main street in downtown, and wasn’t that hard to spot.
He sighed, rolling down his window.
“Can I talk to you about Tara?” Tristan said.
“Fine. Coffee?” Ryder’s head jerked towards the small coffee shop on the corner. Once they were settled with drinks at the small table, Ryder looked Tristan up and down.
Ryder grunted. “You and Tara look a lot alike.”
Tristan’s mouth quirked upwards. “We do.” He shifted forward, leaning his elbows on the table. “Look, she’s been on her own since she was seventeen. If you knew what my parents were like... well, I suppose you could imagine just knowing they raised our youngest brother to become a rapist. They didn’t raise me, my grandfather did, and nobody raised
Tara. She was a lost, little girl long before she ran away. I’m not sure why it angers you about learning what she had to do to survive. How well would anyone do all alone? Lacking resources and living on the streets and adding her youth and beauty and vulnerability doesn’t really begin to describe it, does it? She did what she had to do in order to survive.”
“Why didn’t you help her? You had several years on her. Where were you when you saw her so lost and alone?”
Tristan shook his head and his mouth compressed into a tight line. “I don’t… know. I keep looking back and wondering where I was. Why didn’t I care? Why didn’t I help her? I left for college, so glad to escape that ice castle we called our home. Grandfather always took an interest in me. When I had holidays or vacation, and even whole summers, I spent them with Grandfather. I interned and eventually worked with him at our family company. I only saw my father when he occasionally showed up at work. My mother? I never cared if I saw her. A few holidays a year were more than enough. Tommy was off and on, and Tara? I saw her the least. Our mother kept her crazy busy with dance. I knew she got into some trouble, but I was so caught up with trying to live up to my grandfather’s expectations that I didn’t give her the time, attention, or protection she needed.”
Ryder listened, imagining the grim picture both Tara and Tristan described of their childhood. Both perspectives rang alarmingly true. “You said your brother is a rapist?”
Tristan sighed, leaning back, his legs outstretched, and crossed his arms over his chest. “He drugged and raped at least two women that I know of. Both were college freshman. One of them is my girlfriend.”
Ryder froze. “Your girlfriend? The woman who came here with you?”
Tristan’s gaze focused on him, and his mouth became a thin line. “Yeah. The one who could look past my monstrous family and give me a chance. I was commissioned to come after her and discredit her. We thought she was making up the rape just to cause trouble for Tommy. Then I met her and I knew there was nothing like that going on.” He sighed and sipped the coffee. “She met me as Tristan Aderly. For months, I dated her under that alias. She couldn’t know my real name because I shared it with her rapist. I failed to understand that until long after I’d fallen in love with her. Then, I didn’t know what to do or how to tell her. I’ve never loved anyone before, not like that. Not for real. Not like always putting myself first and any kind of selfish need I had. The way I was raised. But she was nothing like anyone I knew. And I was in so deep, I didn’t know how to undo it without losing her. And losing her was worse than living with the guilt of lying.”