Blame it on the Vodka (Blame it on the Alcohol)

Whack: A blow to the plexus, knocking the wind from my chest.

Thump: Me mentally falling flat on my ass.

Each impacted my body so thoroughly, I had to shift my weight against the bed just to remind myself it wasn’t real.

I should’ve known, but how could I? Rae distracted you with her open honesty while never giving away anything too deep. No one avoided their past so thoroughly if they actually had good things to say about it.

“Rae…” I struggled for words, knowing damn well she wouldn’t want pity or even empathy, but unable to pretend I wasn’t affected.

She waved her hand. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, though.” Usually, I let her get away with the brush-off, but this time, she was my wife. Not Rae, my best friend I’ve loved for years, but my wife. I wanted to know her inside and out, and I needed her to know she could be vulnerable with me without me ever seeing her as weak. “It had to be hard to go through. It just makes your strength all the more amazing.”

Finally, like I guessed the winning numbers to the lottery, she turned and smiled. “It was hard,” she admitted, accepting my sympathy with grace.

I figured that would be the end of the conversation, but with a deep breath, she shocked me and kept going.

“I don’t really remember much since I was so young. Kind of like flashes for the most part. I remember one time walking in to find him pinning my mom to the bed, and when we tried to run, he cornered us against the door until she promised to stay. It was when he lost his temper on me and slammed a textbook on my hand that she finally decided enough was enough. I guess trying to explain a seven-year-old with a broken hand from a falling book really puts things into perspective,” she tried to joke.

But I couldn’t even fake a laugh. I had nothing left in my lungs. My heart thundered in an attempt to compensate for the lack of oxygen. “Jesus, Rae. I’m so sorry.”

The words barely escaped. If it wasn’t for the quick shake of her head and slim bare shoulder rising in an attempt to shrug, I would’ve thought she hadn’t heard me. Hell, I barely heard myself past the throbbing rush of blood blotting out everything but her and her confession. Again, I wondered how had I not known? Why had I let her brush it off so many times? If only I’d known….

If only I’d known, what? What would it have changed?

Click.

Knowing that bit of information changed everything. It slid into place, filling the crucial gap to understanding Rae. She went on about wanting to be free, but maybe she didn’t want to really be free. Maybe she held back because she was scared—because she didn’t want to repeat what her mom went through.

I’d been focused on convincing her of the wrong thing all along. I’d been showing her we could be wild and free together, but maybe I needed to show her how safe she’d be with me.

All of it made so much more sense.

The way she avoided anything serious without even trying.

The way she acted scared of me and accused me of being someone I wasn’t when I lost my temper in Vegas.

The way she panicked last night when I pinned her down.

Shit. I cringed, terrified I’d fucked up, and she was just waiting for a way to tell me.

“Is that…” I started, scared to even ask, but needing to. “Is that why you pushed me away last night? Because of your father?”

“Hah,” she barked a laugh that held a bite as ferocious as a rabid dog. “No, that was all thanks to Bodie.”

Have you ever ridden one of those giant rocking ships that swing back and forth on a pendulum, dropping your stomach to your feet just for it to shoot back up into your throat? The emotions from this conversation reminded me of that ride.

Except, the ride was also spinning.

And also jerking.

And going upside down.

And was on fire but also being dunked in an ice bath.

While being electrocuted.

“What?” I whispered.

“Oh, I mean…” she backtracked. “It was nothing.”

Blackness crept around my vision, and I struggled to breathe.

Her eyes widened with the truth written all over her face. Realizing what she admitted, her beautiful brown eyes clouded similarly to how they had over the past year she dated Bodie. I could never figure out what plagued her, but I saw it clear as day now—shame. Like a well-oiled machine, she blinked, trying to drop down the same wall she hid behind every time I looked too closely.

Not this time.

Hell. No.

This time, I wedged my way under and pried it wide open.

“All this time. This whole year. I fucking saw it. I watched it happening, and I let it.” I barely whispered the words, but the truth scratched its way up my throat as if I screamed.