Page 39 of Wrecked With You

“Real job. Real life. I’ve been a nomad. I like the idea of roots.”

He looks at me as he says it, and I feel that quickening inside me again. I don’t want to fall for him. Friends, family, love — all of that makes you vulnerable. Eliza’s already my weak spot. I know that, but I deal with it because she’s worth it.

But I’m not sure I can handle another weakness.

At the same time, I’m not sure I have a choice. Because whether I want him to or not, there’s no denying that this man is growing on me.

Chapter Thirteen

“Did I lose you?” Tony asks gently, bringing me back from my thoughts.

I shake my head. “No, no. Sorry.” I flash an embarrassed smile. “It’s just what you said. Roots can be good, you know. Trust me. I went a long time without having any.”

His eyes are warm and full of compassion. “Why? What happened to you when—never mind.”

He cuts the question off sharply, and for a moment I don’t understand his hesitation. Then I remember I bit his head off when I’d mentioned turning tricks.

“No, it’s okay.” I draw a breath, then say the most important part. “I don’t mind talking about it now.” What I don’t tell him is that I actively want to tell him. I want to know him better. And I want him to know me, too. “Bottom line is that I had a shit childhood, a scary adolescence, and nomadic, semi-solitary adulthood. Then it got better.”

That, of course, is the top of the mountain description, and I study his face, trying to see if he really wants to know more. I don’t have to guess, though, because he takes my hand. “Tell me,” he says. He doesn’t ask if I want to talk about it. Doesn’t say I can vent to him if I want. Instead, he says, “tell me,” in a voice that makes it clear that not only is he curious, but he cares.

“Start with your childhood,” he urges. “I have a feeling yours wasn’t any better than mine. Honestly, I’m guessing that it was worse.”

I feel tears prick my eyes and hope he doesn’t notice. I’m not a crier. I’ve been trained to hold in my emotions, to move past them and focus on the goal. But maybe right now, feeling that emotion should be my goal. Sharing what I went through with someone who understands but isn’t Eliza or some government shrink who’s analyzing me even as he has me hooked up to a polygraph.

“Hey,” he says, moving his arms around my waist. “No pressure. I want to know, but only if you want to tell me.”

“I do.” I release a weird-sounding laugh. “I think I really do.” Another breath, then, “Right. I—I barely remember my mother. I can remember her being pregnant. I was almost seven. I remember her reading to me, holding me, brushing my hair. And I remember coming into her bedroom to find her curled up in a corner, her arms around her belly crying. I only saw him hit her a couple of times, but I think that’s why I remember it so clearly, even though I was so little. Because I knew there was a baby inside her, and I was so, so scared that something would happen to my little sister.”

I manage a little smile. “I knew it would be a sister. I was so certain, even though Mom didn’t know herself. Or maybe she did, but didn’t tell my father. He wanted a boy, of course.”

“He sounds like a major son-of-a-bitch.”

I feel my eyes go hard. “I’ve apprehended a lot of sick fucks over the years. And I’ve killed more than my share, too. Everyone was vile and dangerous and I don’t regret a single one of those jobs. But not one of them was as pathetic and horrible as my father. Not one.”

“I believe you.” He moves one hand from my waist, then uses it to stroke my hair as he holds my gaze. “What happened when your sister was born?”

“I remember being happy. She was so sweet and little, and my mom told me that I had to be sure to watch out for her because I was her big sister.” I have one hand on his shoulder, but I trail the fingers of my other through the water, watching the ripples. “I didn’t think about it at the time, but later, I thought it wasn’t just the typical big sister talk. You know, a don’t be jealous because she’s yours too kind of thing.”

The sunlight is fast fading, but I can still see the way his face tightens and his throat moves as he swallows. “He killed her.”

“Yes.” I close my eyes, gather myself, then try again. “He must have, but I don’t know for sure. She—she disappeared when Eliza was just a toddler. I don’t think she even remembers Mom. But he must have killed her. She wouldn’t have just left us to save herself.” I look at him hard, as if defying him to argue.

“No. I don’t believe she would, either. She had to know how bad it would be for the two of you if she wasn’t there as a buffer.”

One of the damn tears escapes and trickles down my face, my heart breaking with both the memories and from the simple fact that he gets it. It feels nice, and that’s not something I expected.

It feels strange to be talking about my past since I so rarely do this. Why would I? It’s horrible and painful and I had to discuss it backwards and forwards to a million different shrinks and commanders after I was recruited into the SOC. I hadn’t liked that feeling of being examined and judged. And once I wasn’t forced to talk about it, I never did again. Not even to the people I was close with. Not Lorenzo, my partner in the PI firm. Or even Cass, who knows about a lot of it from talking with Eliza, but never got a word of it from me.

But with Tony, it doesn’t feel weird or painful to share. Maybe because I know he suffered, too. The loss of his mom. The vile and controlling nature of his dad.

“Do you want to tell me what he did to you?”

I shake my head. “Whatever you’re imagining,” I say, “it was worse.”

“You protected Eliza.”

I don’t even bother to brush away the tears as I nod. “I had to. I was all she had.”