Wicked Ever After (Wicked & Devoted 2)

“He just left you?” Brea looked horrified. “A young child? By yourself?”

“He told me I was a little soldier and to man up. So I did. He was gruff, but it wasn’t awful…until one of two things happened. He got drunk or he got laid. One inevitably led to the other. But whenever he got a girlfriend and she moved in, that’s when he became a real prick. If there was one thing my father was, it was a misogynist. God, he hated women. He wanted them, too. And he hated himself for wanting them. He never had the money for hookers. Everyone would have been happier if he had.”

“That’s horrible! Why would you say that?” Brea sounded shocked. “It’s so dirty and impersonal and—”

“Yeah, but it would have been less destructive. When he had a girlfriend, he had a pattern… He’d be alone for a few weeks, maybe a few months. Then he’d get the itch. He’d go out, get drunk, and come home with some woman. If he liked her opening-night ‘audition,’ he’d ask her to move in a week or two later. Most of them were all right. A few got freaked out by the idea of being a replacement mommy or something, so they didn’t stay long. Dad resented the hell out of me then. He never held back on all the things that were my fault. I’d made my mom fat and I’d made her sad. And I’d definitely been the reason she left us. That’s what he told me. Eventually, I found out he lied.”

“Oh, Pierce…” Brea took his hand again, her big heart opening to spill compassion for him. She was willing to give him everything inside her, and he motherfucking hated to take from her, but right now he needed her fortitude.

So he held her tight and squeezed…then let her go. He had miles to go before he could earn her touch again. “The women who didn’t seem to mind that Dad had a kid wore out their welcome eventually. Then they’d run into Dad’s temper. And his fists would come out. It was never pretty.”

Brea looked horrified. “You saw him beat his girlfriends?”

“More than once. I knew it was wrong, but I was just a kid, so I couldn’t stop it. But Dad was like a powder keg. I always knew when the explosion was coming, and I tried to tell them every damn time. Most didn’t listen.”

“How did he not get arrested?”

“He did a few times. But most of the women just left battered and never came back. Maybe they were ashamed. I don’t know.” He let out a breath. This was so fucking hard. “After they’d gone, I was usually sad. They were often the women who really tried. They read me bedtime stories and cooked. They were almost like a mom. It was nice while it lasted.”

“Pierce…”

He didn’t look at Brea. “It wasn’t all bad. My grandpa kept me normal and sane. Those summers with my mom’s dad…they were everything. He taught me about normalcy, self-discipline and control, anger management. And watching him with my grandma until she died of cancer taught me about love.” He shook his head, wishing like hell he could stop here. “I dreaded fall, hated every time Grandpa put me on a plane back home.”

“Did you ever ask your dad if you could just stay?”

“Sure. I was about eight. Matt and I were best friends. I loved the ranch. I liked the people and the big open spaces. But Dad said if I had too much of my grandparents coddling me that I’d turn into a pussy. I stopped asking because I knew if I didn’t, he’d never let me go again.” He turned to Jasper. “Sorry. I know my language sucks.”

“Brea forewarned me.” The preacher didn’t sound amused…but he didn’t sound hostile anymore. He was listening.

One-Mile could work with that.

“When I came home, Dad usually had a new woman. He liked them young; most were barely eighteen. It wasn’t so creepy when I was little because Dad wasn’t much older than they were. But by the time I was a teenager, he was in his thirties…” When both Brea and her dad grimaced, One-Mile had little hope the rest of this would go well. “The real shit started when puberty hit me. I shot up quick and I was built big. I had a full beard before I was fifteen. Most people thought I was a grown man, especially Dad’s girlfriends. He started introducing me as his little brother because otherwise I made him look old. And the girls started coming on to me.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “You didn’t.”

Jesus, he didn’t want to continue.

“I did. A lot.” He closed his eyes because if he saw her disappointment, he didn’t know if he could get out the ugliest parts. “I’m not going to candy-coat and I’m not going to lie. It was a lot like having my own live-in girlfriend. I was probably the only freshman in high school nailing a pretty girl every night.”