“Don’t do that to yourself, Mama. You were young. You were hurting. He took advantage of that,”
I know he’s right. But it’s easier said than done.
“He didn’t full-out lie to me. He did want a perfect life. But he just wanted his perfect life. I could practically see a mask slip on his face when he would start to go into one of his moods. Things like my leaving a towel on the floor or wearing the wrong dress to a company event would set him off. The first few times he hit me, it wasn’t too bad. He always begged me to stay and said he was stressed at work. He said I should be more understanding. But it just grew worse. I started to withdraw from him and he knew it. I knew I didn’t love him. I loved the idea of him but he wasn’t real. Never was.”
“Then one night he accused me of flirting with his co-workers at a company party when he made partner. It wasn’t until we were behind closed doors that the real Nick showed himself. The front door wasn’t even closed and he was on me. His hands wrapped around my neck and he forced himself on me. He told me if I was going to flirt with his co-workers like a paid whore he would treat me like one. And he did.” I feel a tear escape down my cheek and land on Saint’s chest.
“After he left for work the next day, I took off. I packed a bag, withdrew some money from the account my parents had set up for me and took a Greyhound out of town. I left a note telling him if he came after me, I would tell everyone who the real Nick was. Not that anyone would believe me. Not perfect Nick. By this time my friends were long gone and I was utterly alone. I thought if I lay low for a few months he would quit looking for me, if he ever even tried to look for me in the first place. He used to say he would kill me if I left him. When I looked in his eyes, Saint, I believed him.”
“I don’t doubt he would,” Saint says more calmly than I expected. “I’m so sorry, Mama.”
“Nothing to be sorry about now. It’s over. I’m over it,” I say, sitting back up.
“No, you’re not. Not yet but we’ll get you there. You have to let me in. You pushing me away all the time is because of the scars that man left on you. Don’t you see? You’re still giving him control. Control over us.”
His words hit me hard. He couldn't be more right. I am who I am because of Nick. He’s the reason I’ve changed. Some of the changes I like, some I need to let go of.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you and that our paths didn’t cross sooner,” he pauses, measuring his words carefully. “But I need to be honest with you. I already know your story.”
I drop my head to stare down at his chest. I run my fingers through his chest hair.
“You mad, Mama?”
“No,” I say simply, because I’m not. This isn’t surprising. Saint is, after all, a computer hacker. I don’t know the specifics but I know he’s pretty good. It had actually crossed my mind a few times already that he might look into my past. I wasn’t hiding that well. I knew I just needed to stay hidden for a little while and give Nick time to move on. That thought makes my stomach clench. Not because he’s with someone else, but in fear for that someone else, whoever they may be.
“You seem a lot calmer about all this than I thought you would be. Is it because you’ve known for a while?” I ask.
“Actually, I haven’t known that long. I wanted you to open up to me on your own—”
“Oh, Saint,” I interrupt, feeling my heart ache at his words.
“It’s fine, Mama, we’re getting there. But when everything happened with Carter and Layla, and you wouldn’t give me the time of day unless it was to try to piss me off. But then again you know I’ll take any attention you shoot my way.” He gives me his cocky grin. I just roll my eyes.
“I had a few drinks one night. Got to missing you real bad. I told myself that if I found out what happened, who hurt you before, maybe I could make it better, and maybe I could find a way to get my Mama back faster.”
My heart squeezes more because I put him through this. He was just trying to make me better, like he tried with his mom.
“I’m so sorry, Saint. I know I’ve got some messed-up shit and I know I can be crazy.”
“Mama, stop,” he orders firmly, gripping my hips. “I don’t want you to change. I love your crazy. Your crazy drives me crazy for you. I couldn’t imagine you without your fire. I don’t want to. You couldn’t be more perfect for me. The first time you opened your mouth, I knew it. You were mine. Better yet, I’m yours.”
I feel another tear slip out.