Revealed by You(59)

“Dr. Santos?” Brett asked, returning the man’s handshake.

“Yes. Please, follow me.” Although it was said as a request, it was smart not to question his authority. I didn’t know how I knew that but the slight smirk he gave me made my stomach tumble. It was almost like he knew what I was thinking.

“You okay?” Brett whispered in my ear.

I looked up at him, my heart swelling. “I should be asking you that.”

He shrugged. “I’m fine,” he mumbled and looked away.

Liar. I bit back a sigh as we followed the doctor into his pristine white office. It was brighter than what I expected. The hard-edged doctor of some sort of Latin decent took me as the dark wood kind of guy. The white furniture with gray and dark blue accents didn’t seem like his style.

Dr. Santos closed the door as we sat on the couch across from a large chair.

“So, tell me why you’re here.”

Brett stiffened beside me and grabbed my hand, holding it tight in his lap.

My heart thudded.

Dr. Santos watched the movement and crossed his arms under his chest, waiting for either of us to speak. “I do have all day but the sooner either of you speak, the sooner you can get out of here,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching.

Brett huffed. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“That’s understandable.” Dr. Santos nodded and ran a hand through his short crew cut black hair. “Some people feel the need to speak on their own terms. Others want questions thrown at them to get them to open up. Which do you prefer, Brett?”

I curled my hand around our joined ones, praying that I could give him the strength he needed to talk.

Brett spun the ring around and around on my finger. I realized it was something he did when he was nervous or feeling uncomfortable.

Since my mom had passed when I was a child, I gave up on church and the whole religion thing. But I still believed. My mother had instilled that part of herself in me as best she could even though I was so young. I didn’t know what else to say but I hoped that one word would be enough. Please.

“My mom used to beat me.”





SEVENTEEN

I waited for Dr. Santos to start hammering questions at Brett. What caused him to make his mother hit him? How did he feel about it? What did he do to deserve it? The usual questions that people automatically start wondering.

“How old were you the first time it happened?”

I breathed a sigh of relief when none of those questions left the doctor’s lips.

Brett squeezed my hand, his body tensing and ran his fingers under the sleeve of my sweater. Touching me. Pulling strength. From me.

“I was…eight,” he croaked.

A lump formed in my throat. Eight. Just a boy. My stomach burned. God, I could kill Diane.

Dr. Santos’ jaw ticked but other than that, his face was passive. No emotion displayed on his tanned features but if he was a normal human being, I bet he wanted to destroy the people who hurt his patients.

His piercing brown eyes flicked my way every so often. At first, I thought maybe he was questioning why I was there. Why I was with Brett when he’s so broken, destroyed but then I noticed his gaze soften. The corners of his lips twitched before he turned back to Brett. “How often,” he asked, his mouth set in a grim line.

Brett tensed beside me. “It started out slow. Once every couple of weeks. Whenever I did something bad in her eyes. She always used the excuse that God wanted her to punish me for my sins. I was fucking eight years old!”

Tears welled in my eyes.

“Where was your dad in all of this?”

“My…he didn’t know.” Brett looked down at our joined hands. “I never told him. I was a child. A little boy. I thought my mom…” His voice cracked. “I thought she loved me.”

As sob escaped my lips. I could no longer control the tears as they rolled down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I…” I squeezed my eyes shut, taking deep breaths, attempting to ease the heaviness of my heart. My chest felt constricted, like someone was sitting on it.

“Did you need some air?” Dr. Santos asked me.

My eyes popped open and I shook my head. “No. I’m not leaving him.”

The doctor smiled. “Good girl.”

My belly gave a flip at the praise in his voice.

Brett’s hold on my hand tightened to the point of painful. “It’s funny,” he said a moment later.

I frowned and looked between the two men.

“I blocked it out until she showed up a couple of weeks ago. I was fine. I was.” He took a breath. “I was,” he whispered.

I wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince but I knew he wasn’t fine. He was never fine. He was always on edge.