Page 49 of Kyle

My body locked tight, not sure if I wanted to hear this. Not yet. I was still too raw. Too angry. Too emotionally overwhelmed with all the feelings I had racing through my mind.

“How much I regretted locking myself away being scared of everything and everyone. How I’d wasted the second chance I’d been given. How I’d spent my life pretending I was brave and travelling the world when all I was really doing was putting emotional distance between me and every person I came in contact with. It’s kinda hard to forge lasting friendships when you’re always moving around. I was play-acting at living. I’d perpetrated a grand lie.”

Her eyes filled with tears and my chest ached at the sight. Anaya Baker was not a victim. I doubted she ever was, even at thirteen when she’d been sold into a sex trafficking ring.

Strong and loyal, that was who Anaya was.

“Then I’d thought about you.”

“Me?” I asked, shocked she’d think about me while she’d thought her life was going to end.

“Yes, you. I wanted your smile to be the last thing I saw before I died. I was thinking about how if I’d been stronger, I would’ve been able to tell you the truth.”

Her admission had me on edge for a very different reason. I’d been wrong, I thought everything I’d been feeling was one-sided. I’d been so caught up in my shit, I’d missed it. And damn if that was an even bigger kick to the gut.

“What truth is that?”

“That I wanted to stay with you. That I wanted you to want me to stay, and maybe if I wasn’t so fucked up, you wouldn’t have wanted to get away from me so quickly. Maybe if I wasn’t such a freak—”

“What the fuck?” The question was ripped from somewhere deep inside of me. “What the actual fuck, Anaya? That’s what you think? That I wanted away from you?”

“Well, yeah. One second you were talking about me coming with you, then you were pushing me away. I know I have issues and I don’t blame you. That’s part of what I regretted. Maybe if I was a different kind of woman, I could have a man like you. But instead I’ve spent the last eighteen years of my life acting like a freak with a flashing warning sign above my head that says, ‘stay away.’ Do you know when the last time I had sex was?”

My gut clenched, not wanting to hear the answer, but she continued. “When I was twenty. I’m thirty-two, Kyle. You do the math. Do you know how many men I’ve slept with? Two. What unmarried, unattached woman my age who’s not fucked up has only slept with two men?” She stopped and looked down at the floor shaking her head. “I get it. I really do. But please stop treating me like I’m going to have a nervous breakdown if you touch me.”

“What do you get?” I growled. My own regret and irritation swirling together making it difficult for me to contain my ire.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what is it that you think you get?”

“Let’s see. I acted like a freak the first time—”

“Stop calling yourself a goddamn freak, Anaya.”

“Well, if the shoe fits…” she trailed off before she continued with her original thought. “The first time you touched me on the plane, I admitted it had been years since I’d touched another human. Then, like a weirdo I asked if I could hold your hand for the next twenty hours we were in the air. Then I had a total come apart when you pushed me against a wall—to protect me. Then I had two different nightmares where you had to come in and calm me down. So with all of that, I get why you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Which brings me to what I do know. No man wants to deal with a basket case. So there’s my regret—if I was normal, maybe you wouldn’t have pushed me away.”

Her entire explanation was such bullshit and so far from how I felt about her I didn’t know where to begin. I wanted to shake the hell out of her until every bad thought she had about herself rattled free.

“Straight up, Anaya, I’m gonna set a few things straight, then we’re getting into bed so you can get some rest.” I paused, trying my best to get my temper under check, but when I’d thought about what she’d said about herself I couldn’t tamp it down. “Don’t you ever call yourself a freak, a weirdo, a basket case, or any other fucking adjective other than ‘strong’ again, or so help me God, you’ll see a side of me you wish you hadn’t. You are so fucking brave. Your courage and kindness leave me in awe. Who in the actual fuck cares if you haven’t had sex in however many years it’s been? That doesn’t say one thing about you that’s bad.

“And I want you to listen to me real careful now. I did not leave you because I wanted to get away from you, period. You wanna talk about regrets? It’s my fault you were kidnapped. If I would’ve listened to my gut and kept you with me, none of this would’ve happened. But instead I acted like a pussy, too afraid to admit to myself I was feeling something for you. Too weak. Too stupid. I thought I was behaving like an over-protective asshole when you wanted to stay in Timor-Leste, yet I demanded you come with me. So I backed down—worst mistake of my life—but that decision had everything to do with my job and the shit that’s happening there. The fuck of it is, I wanted you safe, and I thought you’d be better off without me. But you need to understand this, that will not be happening again. I will not back down. And you may think I’m an asshole for sayin’ it, but from now on, I’m operating on instincts. When my gut is screamin’ at me to hold you close, I’m holding you close. You can push me away, but I swear it will be useless.”

Anaya was standing two feet away from me, trembling. Too damn far. I closed the distance and moved in front of her, slowly raising my hands to gently cup her face. She might as well get used to my touch now, because I planned on doing it a lot.

I waited until some of the stiffness subsided then told her, “We’re gonna get you through this. You and me. We’re gonna work all that bad shit you got bottled up inside of you out.” She held my gaze but didn’t respond. “I need to trust you when you tell me you know I won’t hurt you. I’ll stop treating you like you’re made of glass if you promise me, you understand that when I touch you, it will never be done with cruel intentions.”

“I promise,” she whispered.

“Do you feel the same connection I do?” She nodded wordlessly, answering my question. “Do you want to explore those feelings?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. Yes or no.”

“It’s not that simple.” Her cheeks tinged pink and I knew where her thoughts had gone.

“You’re worried about a physical relationship?” Again she nodded and tried to look away. “Don’t hide from me.” Her gaze came back to mine. “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”