Page 56 of Speechless
“He hit you?” I could barely breathe when I thought about someone physically hurting her.
She pinched her lips together before whispering, “Yeah, he did.”
I swore before hauling her against my chest. “Jesus, Codie. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, baby. Where is that sonofabitch now? Is he in jail? Did he at least get charged for what he did to you?”
She pulled back, looking me in the eye. “He got charged, did his time. And now he’s out.”
“Where the hell is he? Please tell me he’s not living in Nashville.” I didn’t think I’d sleep at night knowing she was living in the same city as the bastard who hit her, while I was thousands of miles away putting on a show, helpless to protect her.
“No, to be released early, for good behavior, he had to consent to staying away from me. The prosecutor told me he’d be returning to Raleigh to live. Apparently, he has family there.”
“And he’s still there?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Mav. I don’t keep tabs on him. I refuse to live my life in fear of someone who gets his thrills beating women.”
My chest tightened. “Beating?”
“It wasn’t just a little slap upside the head,” she said, between clenched teeth. “If that’s what you’re asking. He beat me black and blue. Broke ribs—”
“Please,” I whispered. I couldn’t stand to imagine her like that, knowing I’d been the one to drive her into that sick asshole’s arms.
“But he only got away with it once, I can promise you that. I pressed charges the next day and made sure I was there, every day in court, to speak on behalf of myself and every other woman he ever hurt, who couldn’t be there. I worked on my victim impact statement for three days and when I delivered it, I looked him in the eyes, and let him know he hadn’t won. I had.”
I closed my eyes, stunned all over again by her strength. No wonder I’d never been able to find another woman who made me feel like Codie. They’d broke the mold when they made her.
“You’re amazing,” I said, sinking my hand into her hair, holding her head in place so I could kiss her. “Now, you gonna tell me who this prick is?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Never.”
“I could probably find out.” It was possible to find out anything these days.
“I need you to promise me,” she said, locking eyes with me. “That you won’t. You’ve been waiting all your life for this opportunity, Mav. You’re not going to lose it because of some lame-ass woman-beater. You hear me?”
She was tiny, but fierce. And I loved that she was always looking out for me, just like I was always looking out for her.
When I didn’t respond, she made an X on my chest with her fingertip. “Cross your heart? If you love me…”
I grabbed her hand, curling my fingers around her wrist. “Fine, I promise I’ll let this go. But you can’t even know how hard this is for me.”
“I know how hard it is,” she said, softly. “And I debated even telling you. Because I don’t want anything to put your sobriety at risk, but I need you to know the good, the bad, and the ugly before you decide I’m really the person you want to be with.”
“There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me question whether I wanted to be with you.” I considered that for a second before I said, “Except maybe cheat on me. That would kill me.”
“As if that would ever happen.”
“It’s not easy,” I warned. “Loving someone who’s on the road half the year. And you’re a sexy, sensual, woman. Asking you to abstain for months on end doesn’t seem fair.” But I was asking her to do exactly that because we could never have an open relationship. The idea of another man making love to her made me certifiable.
“I’m asking the same of you,” she said, running her hand up my thigh. “Think you can do that?”
“You really think I’d risk what we’re building for some meaningless one-night stand with a groupie?” I didn’t blame her for questioning me. She’d be crazy not to. Musicians were notorious womanizers because the temptation was always there and beautiful women were always ready to volunteer for one night with a singer, so they could have life-long bragging rights.
“No, I don’t.” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t come back into my life, begging for another chance, just to hurt me all over again. No one could be that cruel.”
“I love you.” I knew I’d be repeating that statement every day for months, maybe even years, before she accepted that I was in this for the duration.
“I love you too, Mav.”
I smirked. “We still haven’t decided what we’re going to tell people, the press, about our relationship.”
