Bad Intentions (Bad Love 2)
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“What’s the story with you guys?” He doesn’t specify what he means, as if he’s been fixating on Eric since earlier today. I huff out a breath, rolling onto my back.
“How many times do I have to go over this?” I ask, resigned.
“I just want to understand.”
I sigh, staring at the ceiling. As long as I don’t have to see the look in his eyes, I can tell him.
“I was nannying for another family. One of the girls had a birthday party, and Eric approached me. He told me he was looking for a nanny and offered me a shit ton of cash.” I give a humorless laugh. “We were so broke, it wasn’t even funny. It got to the point where we had to decide whether we wanted to live without electricity or food. Mom spent every dime on drugs, and Jess was dealing them to help pay bills. I couldn’t pass it up.
“He spun this whole story about how he needed help with his son, Cayden, because his wife was addicted to painkillers and alcohol. Stupidly, I related to that. I wanted to help him.”
“That’s not stupid,” Dare interjects.
“It was,” I disagree. “One night when I was about to leave, he sat at his desk—just like he did at the end of every week—to write my check. I remember thinking something was different because he was taking a long time. I sat there, feeling awkward, playing video games with Cayden while I waited. When he finally handed me the check, it was significantly more than he usually paid me, and there was a sticky note attached to it that said he wanted me to meet him in his office in ten minutes.”
I inhale deeply.
“That’s when we slept together.”
Dare grits his teeth, but he doesn’t say anything.
“He told me his marriage was over, that she simply stayed there to save face, but they hadn’t been together in a long time. I believed him because I rarely ever saw her, and if I did, she was blitzed out of her mind. Part of me felt like I had to be with him, or he’d fire me. Part of me liked that someone of his caliber wanted me.” I roll my eyes, knowing how fucking stupid and pathetic that sounds.
“Slowly, he became increasingly possessive. It’s like he thought he had the right to control every aspect of my life because he paid me well. I stuck around for way too long because I didn’t want to leave Cayden, but I didn’t sleep with him again. Eventually, I took other nanny jobs, tried to distance myself. When I wouldn’t answer his calls, he started showing up unannounced. I’d be in the shower or sleeping in my bed, and he’d be there. ‘Checking in,’ he’d say. He accused me of sleeping with the other dads I worked for, called me a whore, a gold digger. He made me feel like shit about myself, and for a while, I thought he was all I deserved. All I cared about—all I still care about—is being able to take care of Jesse. He’s the only thing that matters to me.”
Dare nods but doesn’t interrupt my verbal diarrhea.
“Jess hated him from the start. He knew he was bad news, and they constantly butted heads.”
“What made you finally leave?”
This is the part I hate talking about. The part that makes me feel like the worst kind of human. But I decide to purge it all. To get it over with so I don’t have to rehash it again. “Right before we left, I went to hang the towels in their upstairs bathroom. Before I could flip the light on, I slipped in something. It was blood. I freaked out. I didn’t know who or where it came from, but Cayden was at school, so at least I knew it wasn’t him.
“I checked all the rooms before finding his wife, Olivia. She had apparently miscarried and was barely conscious. I didn’t know whether it was because she was fucked up on pills or losing too much blood, but both were true.” Or at least, I thought she was losing too much blood. I’d never had a miscarriage before—didn’t know what was normal—but it seemed excessive to me.
“Fuck,” Dare says, reaching over to link his fingers with mine.
“I called an ambulance, called Eric, then waited with her until they got there. She was mumbling incoherently, but I’m fluent in drug-induced ramblings, thanks to my mom. She said she knew I’d slept with Eric. Accused me of being the reason that she was so stressed. Said it caused her to miscarry and that this baby was supposed to fix things.”
“You know it doesn’t work like that,” Dare says quietly.
“I know.” I nod. And I do. I know it wasn’t my fault. The only thing I’m guilty of is being too naïve and believing his lies. They were never separated, like he led me to believe. And playing a role in that fucked-up situation doesn’t feel good no matter who’s at fault.
“Jess got kicked out of school for hacking their system and got caught up in some trouble with the guys he was dealing for. My mom’s boyfriend beat the shit out of both Jess and me because we wouldn’t give him drug money, and when the cops showed up on our doorstep, I took my opportunity. I ratted my mom and her boyfriend out, and when they took her to jail, I called Henry, packed a couple bags, and left with Jess the next morning.”
“That’s why you had a black eye when we met?” Dare asks, his voice deadly calm, but his expression murderous. He cups my cheek, and I nod, soaking up his touch, my hands covering his wrist.
“I just wanted a fresh start,” I breathe, tears pricking my eyes. “I hate talking about this stuff,” I say, covering my eyes with my forearm. “It’s embarrassing.”
“You were trying to take care of your family. There’s no fucking shame in that. I wish I had someone who cared about me half as much as you care about your brother.”
“Tell me about you?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t deny me after spilling all that stuff about myself.
“Quid pro quo, huh?” He’s on his side facing me now. His voice is so nonchalant, but I can tell he feels anything but. “I never knew my parents. I was left in a parking lot when I was four, along with a note with my first name and birthday. No last name. I guess I was found at the store on Adair Street, so that’s where my last name comes from.”
My eyes widen at his words. He mentioned being in foster care, but I didn’t know the details. I feel stupid for being so wrapped up in my own stupid problems that pale in comparison.