Wow, so not the Reader’s Digest version, but she wanted Brett to understand her.
“We had one television, but only local channels. It was only ever turned on for the news and occasionally for a movie if it was airing on a network. We had one phone, a landline, and it was in the kitchen. We had a radio, but she used to keep it tuned to a classics station, and we had books. I loved to read. My mother sewed most of my clothes, except for jeans which we did get from the store. Our meals were eaten at very structured times, and if you didn’t eat what was put on the plate, you didn’t eat.” In some ways, the simplicity of her childhood years also included a deep sense of security. She absolutely knew her place in the family, knew what was expected of her and had no trouble living up to those expectations.
“Sounds very austere.”
“Mostly. Dad is an accountant and he liked the structure as much as she did. On weekends, he got the television and it was whatever sport was in season. He did the yard work, Mom did the house work—we were utterly boring and that was my normal. As I got older, I made friends who had cell phones and cable and computers…and there were computers at school. They fascinated me. The Internet is a pretty damn cool thing when you’ve never even seen HBO.” Her mother had been furious and actually written a note to the school to have her excused from the computer based classes, but by high school it became impossible to separate the technology from the coursework, so she’d had to cave.
Brett covered her toes with his hand, and the connection chased away the remnants of melancholy.
“Anytime I had a chance to go to a friend’s house, or to school even, I was like a junkie getting a fix of their programs or games or websites. YouTube.” Laughter burbled through her. “Oh my God, YouTube. I spent hours lost in YouTube. The videos, the music, the crazy stuff—you can find anything on YouTube and trust me when I say, some of it, you can’t unsee.”
He chuckled. “I’ve done the same thing. Usually with funny videos, but occasionally with…” At his sidelong look, she raised her eyebrows.
“Occasionally?” She prodded.
“My mother and several—friends have a thing for cat videos.”
“I haz cheeseburgers.” She snickered and at his low chuckle, and fresh affection washed through her. He might just get her. “Yeah, so I really enjoyed, you know, being crazy. When I graduated high school, I enrolled in an away college so I could really spend my time discovering this whole new world, and I…I lost my head.”
“You were young.” His immediate defense warmed her heart.
“Young isn’t an excuse. It might be a cause and a contributing factor, but it’s no excuse. I knew half the time that the stuff I got into was over my head. It didn’t stop me. In fact, it made me hungrier to do it. The crazier it was, the more I wanted it. I slept around.” She thought the admission might embarrass her, but it didn’t. No judgment lived in his gaze. “Parties. Boys. Booze. Drugs once or twice,” she held up a finger as she said that. “And only once or twice because I rapidly discovered that while drunk could be fun, most drugs weren’t. I don’t like to be out of it and I don’t like blackouts.”
“Blackouts?” He honed in on the word.
With a grimace, she took a drink and eyed the last piece of bacon. Tempting, but she’d stolen a lot of his bacon during the meal. Without pause, Brett picked up the piece and broke it in half, before offering a section to her.
‘Thank you.” So much for distracting. “I had a few of them in my freshman and sophomore year. Twice in freshman and once in sophomore. Usually, when I had some E—which is the street name for Ecstasy—and once…” A muscle in her jaw cramped when she clenched her teeth. He squeezed her foot lightly then massaged it. The continued caress eased some of her discomfort at the story. “Once, when I tried acid. I’d read somewhere that the trips could be amazing, because it’s a mind-altering drug.”
“I’m aware.” The low thrum in his voice carried several veins of concern. “It can be very dangerous to some people because tripping isn’t always positive.”
“Mine was definitely not positive.” Ice shimmied along her spine. Suddenly, the tray on the bed was moved and Brett wrapped around her and tugged her into his lap. The combination of his arms surrounding her and his lips pressing against her forehead chased away the shadows.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how much was the trip and how much was real. I remember there was a guy. His name was John or Jim something, or at least I’m pretty sure it started with a J. He was the guy who gave me the acid. We made out, and things were getting interesting, when he did this…um, how graphic do you want me to be here?” The low sound he released rumbled against her back sounded very much like a growl.