Eight? I clutched him a little closer. “Why’d he go after you?”
“He was beating my mom. No idea why they were arguing, but I tried to stop him. I usually didn’t intervene because my mom typically started it and gave back as good as she got. But she was no longer at a place where she could fight back.” His sigh was heavy and full of dark memories. “I didn’t do much damage to him, though. Probably didn’t even leave a single bruise. My mom and I both ended up in the hospital that night.”
“My God.” I ran my fingers over his face, so relieved he’d survived all that. “I never ended up in the hospital from any of my experiences.”
Quinn lifted his face and looked up at me, his eyes curious. “Not even once?”
I shook my head. “I was one of those extremely obedient children. I learned early which lines never to cross, I hid when he wanted me to be scarce, and I was there when I needed to be there, doing my duties.”
His dark swirling eyes told me he didn’t believe me. Then his fingers drifted over my shoulder to sweep across my old cigarette burns. “What about these?”
I sniffed out a sad laugh. “He found an opened, half-empty pack of cigarettes in his study one time. He thought they were mine. When I denied it, he lit one and held it against me until I cried out and started sobbing, begging him to stop. After he asked me again, I still denied it, insisting they weren’t mine. So he lit another and burned me again. It took five times before I finally admitted they were mine. The next day, one of his friends asked him if he’d left his pack of cigarettes and favorite lighter at our house.”
Quinn curled his lip as if he wanted to hunt my father down and hurt him. “Did he apologize?”
I let out a short, hard laugh. “My father? No way. He slapped me for lying to him by finally admitting they were mine.”
“Bastard,” he growled.
Loving how protective and fierce he looked, I kissed his cheek.
His lashes fluttered and he leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine. “It must’ve been hell for you.”
I shrugged. “It was manageable. I knew my limits. Physical, fist-to-skin beatings were actually pretty rare. Maybe once a month.”
“Once a month is not that rare.” He ran the backs of his knuckles across my cheek. “But Cora made it sound as if you were always scared for your life and showed up to school every day freshly bruised.”
With a roll of my eyes, I began to stroke his back again. “Cora has a way of overdramatizing things. Attacks didn’t really come because I’d disobeyed. Usually, it was something that set him off at work, and he’d need to vent on me, using me as his whipping post to relieve his stress.” I shrugged. “I guess it was a good thing he was a powerful man at his bank. He usually got his way in his business dealings. So the abuse was limited. It was the psychological and emotional treatment I hated most.”
Quinn nodded. “I know what you mean. I always preferred it when my mom would just whack me on the side of the head and walk away than when she called me worthless and told me how she wished I’d never been born.”
“Oh, God. I hate that line. My father used it on me all the time. Or he’d tell me I was going to turn out a whore, just like my mother.”
Growling deep in his throat, Quinn tightened his arms around me. “You are not—”
“I know.” I kissed his chin, appreciating the vehemence in his voice. “But it still tears you down. It makes you feel weak.”
“Worthless,” he added softly.
“Alone,” I said.
Quinn gazed in my eyes. “Unloved.”
“Trapped,” I whispered.
We gazed at each other for the longest time. I don’t think I’d ever understood anyone the way I understood Quinn in that moment. He got me completely, and I got him. I felt shredded and bare, and yet completely liberated in my exposure.
“Thank God we’re free of them,” I managed to croak, feeling things for another person that I’d never felt for anyone.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Thank God.”
“These last few months, away from him, have been an experience I’ll never forget. And if he finds me and forces me to return home—”
“Finds you?” Quinn cut in, blinking away his confusion. Then his eyes filled with horror. “Oh God. He doesn’t know you’re here?” He gasped, guessing the truth.
I shook my head, realizing only Cora knew what it had taken for me to get here, and maybe she didn’t even know the full extent of my escape. But I told Quinn, detailing how I’d transferred the money from my account and gotten my car and escaped in the night. At one point, he covered his mouth with his hands and just watched me from wide, blue eyes.