She gasped, as horrified for him as he’d been over her childhood. “How could he do that?”
“He was more afraid of having a sissy son than he was of my arm being broken—and my mother backed him up, like she always did.”
She folded her hand around his, holding him. “I’m so sorry.”
Her touch gave him the courage to tell her things he’d never revealed to another soul, not even Susan. But Ari needed to hear, so she could understand. So she could help him put the past behind him forever. “My father hated that I let other kids bully me.”
She squeezed his hand, her eyes watery with her pain for him, and with her anger. “You don’t let kids bully you. Sometimes you just can’t stop them.”
“He wanted to toughen me up so that I could fight them off. But even after my arm had healed, I still couldn’t do that. I came home with a black eye, and he was pissed.”
You effing weenie. When are you ever going to learn to stick up for yourself? How the hell did I get a son who’s such a puny little weakling?
“He said he’d teach me to defend myself even if it killed us both.” And it did kill something in Matt—not just his spirit, but his ability to trust. He spent years rebuilding himself, working hard to find faith in people again. He thought he had too, until today when he’d taken out all his fears on Ari just like his dad used to do. The only way he could make it up to her was with the whole truth. “He grabbed me by the hair, holding me up on my tiptoes. And he told me to punch him, to get myself loose.” He closed his eyes because he couldn’t get through the rest of his story if he looked at the horror in Ari’s gaze. “I kicked and flailed, screaming at him. But I couldn’t reach him. I didn’t realize I’d started crying until I couldn’t see him anymore through my tears.”
I raised an effing little baby. You good-for-nothing piece of shit.
For a long, long time, he had believed his father—every single word, until this very moment.
“My scalp was screaming by the time he let me go. Without me landing a single punch. And he called me the usual names.” The names were ingrained in his brain.
“Where was your mother this whole time? Didn’t she stop him?” Ari’s grip was tight with her distress.
He opened his eyes to the bleakness of hers. And it was all for him. Sympathy. Empathy. Her fierceness, all the things he’d wanted from the mother whose job it had been to protect him.
“She never stopped him. Not then, not ever. When he stormed out of the house, she handed me some tissues and told me to stop blubbering and clean myself up.”
You’re a mess. What would your friends think of you now?
Ari put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“She said I’d never grow up to be a man if I was whining all the time.”
A tear trickled down Ari’s cheek. “How could anyone say that to their own child?”
He reached out with the tip of his finger to wipe the tear away. “How could a mother turn to drugs instead of looking out for her kid?”
He’d never felt the bond of their childhoods as intensely as he did now. They’d both been abandoned. And somehow they’d found each other.
“When my mother was dying,” he went on, “she said she was happy they’d made me who I was, that if they hadn’t told me to buck up against the bullies at school, I would still be a worthless sissy.”
Ari’s nostrils flared with indignation. “You made yourself.”
That was his Ari—always standing up for everyone else. And he prayed she’d be his again. His fearless warrior woman.
“I did remake myself. With the help of my friends, and Susan and Bob.”
He wanted to press his mouth to hers and know that everything would be okay from this moment forward. But he still hadn’t explained why he’d caged Noah in with his own fears.
“The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do is protect Noah. I never wanted him bullied or hurt. I never wanted to be like my dad.”
Ari threw herself at him then, wrapping her arms around him, her warm breath at his ear. “You could never be like that.”
He held her tightly, closed his eyes, and breathed her in for a few perfect moments before he made himself draw back enough to face her. “I’ve never done that to Noah, but I went off on you today. My words hurt you. Words I didn’t mean, Ari. I wish I could take them back.”
“I know you were frightened for Noah.” Forgiveness shone in her pretty eyes. “It must have been like the day you fell off your bike. Maybe it even reminded you about what happened to Jeremy. You know that horrible things can happen, and you lashed out.”