Dropping her hands, I say, “Are you fucking kidding me? I tell you I love you, and you think I’m obsessed?”
She pauses and then her head cocks to the side. “Okay, maybe the wrong choice of words.”
“You think?” I said in an offhand way that has her glaring at me.
“I was trying to say that we are so in this, committed and in love, that I don’t want to walk on eggshells or make sure not to talk to someone ’cause it is going to piss you off. I want this to be good. I want us to be drama-free and fucking happy, Jude. I don’t and I won’t walk on eggshells. This is supposed to be easy.”
Covering my face, I let out a long breath before taking another one in. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, you should. Communication is the key, Jude. But the thing is that we have to nip this in the bud. Are you going to cheat on me?”
I drop my hands and give her a look. “Fuck no.”
“Good, ’cause I’m not either. No one holds a hockey stick to you, boo. You are it. You’ve left your mark on me. I’m yours, and we both know that. So let it go,” she says, reaching for my hands. “Okay? We’re good, right?”
Slowly I nod as I lace my fingers with hers. She’s completely right, and while I’ve admitted that before, I’m not going to this time. Don’t want her getting a big head, but seriously, I feel kind of stupid in a way. I know what we have, so why be jealous of anyone? I should be proud that my girl is hot and all mine, not want to freak out every time someone looks at her. I just don’t want to lose her, and I won’t. I have to trust that.
“Okay,” I say since I know she’s waiting for me to say it.
She smiles, running her fingers through the beard on my face before leaning toward me for a heart-stopping kiss. As we slowly kiss, my heart beats in double-time for her. It’s so easy for me to love her; like she said, this is supposed to be easy and it is. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to throw a roadblock in that. I’ve never been good at this though, but as she lays me down, lying across my chest, her legs tangling with mine, I know that I’m learning to be good at loving her. I’ll probably never master the art of loving her since I’ll make dumb decisions and stumble along the way, probably say the wrong thing at times, but the main thing is that I’ll never stop loving her. I can’t. As much as I want to be hard and manly, I know that I couldn’t handle losing her, and I think that frightens me the most.
I just have to trust her.
And I do.
Rolling on my side, I wrap my arms around her, bringing her in close. She grins up at me after I kiss her nose and I say, “Now tell me something.”
Her mouth pulls up at the side. “What do you want to hear?”
“Your past.”
Her grins falls and her gaze diverts from mine. “Oh yeah, I did say I’d tell ya that, huh?”
“You did.”
I don’
t dare say anything. I only watch as she bites hard into her lips as her brain works. It can’t be that bad. I mean, yeah, she got around, who cares? But to her it must be horrible because I can feel her heartbeat against my chest.
Meeting my gaze, she says, “For as long as I could remember, my mom was a cracked-out stripper. She cleaned up for maybe three years when I was six, but then when I turned nine, she went right back to her old ways. We never had food. We moved all the time, and sometimes I had to sleep in a car. I went to school looking a hot damn mess, and I had to clean studios just for studio time with teachers.”
Looking away again, she says, “For six years, my mom would bring home these sleazeballs, and I had to fight them off from trying to touch me and rape me while she was passed out in the living room. But when I turned fourteen, I didn’t fight anymore. This guy, his name was Drew, he was maybe in his thirties, but he came in the room, drunk and stupid and was talking to me, telling me how pretty I was. When he made an advance on me, I let him and I ended up losing my virginity that night.” Running her hands through her hair, she lets out a breath as she looks away.
“Why?” I ask and she shrugs her shoulders, still not meeting my gaze.
“I don’t know. My mom didn’t love me. I was a hassle to her and a quick way to get money off my uncle. When Phillip left for the NHL, leaving me with only her, I just didn’t feel loved. I didn’t feel special or anything. I felt hollow. So then this guy is here giving me attention without trying to rape me, and I thought he meant it but he didn’t. He fucked me, hard, and left me to figure out why I was bleeding and why I was hurting so bad. But then he came back the next night and said he treasured me and I believed him, like the dumb girl I was, and I gave it up again. It felt so good, so amazing. I felt alive. So I didn’t stop. I slept with anyone who wanted me, and to be honest with you, I don’t know how I don’t have an STD or how I didn’t get pregnant.”
She looks up at me but only for a second before looking away again. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I instead wait for her to finish her story. Tracing the outlines of my tattoo, she continues, “My mom was found in a ditch, raped and murdered by someone. They still don’t know who. I went to my crazy aunt who tried everything to fix me by the good Lord’s standards, and when that didn’t work, she sent me to rehab. Twice. I didn’t want to live. I tried killing myself, but couldn’t do it, and because of that, I decided to self-medicate with drugs and alcohol. I knew how I was going to end up. I was going to become my mom and then I would die. So before all that could happen, I decided to self-destruct since I didn’t have the balls to kill myself outright.”
“What made you change?” I ask when she pauses.
A slow grin comes across her face before she looks up at me. “Phillip.”
I’m completely engrossed in her. Taking in a deep breath, I ask, “How?”
“He came and saved me. At the time, I thought he was ruining my life more, but I was completely wrong. He loved me so fiercely and helped me and pushed me to be a better person. Then Reese came along and gave me dance as my outlet and things just fell into place. I no longer think I’m going to end up a strung-out stripper dead in an alley. I may not know what I want, but I do want to be the best at whatever I choose.”
Her story warms my heart. It really is a phoenix-type story. She burned to ashes but then rose from them. It’s inspiring and only makes me love her more. I go to tell her that, but she says, “I know that it isn’t your typical childhood story, but I’m not ashamed of it. I think it made me stronger. I just never wanted to tell you because no one knows but Reese and Phillip.”