Page 38 of Thirteen Years
“Listen,” I said, scrubbing my trembling hands over my face, “I’m too much. I know how to take care of myself, and my daughter,” I continued, “I’ve gotten too soft here. This isn’t how I need to be. Nat and I need to leave. Clark always got away with shit where we lived, before I got away from him. If he finds out Natasha is actually his…”
“Rebecca” interrupted Lucas. “This isn’t some small ass hick town in the middle of nowhere. There’s no “good-ole-boys'' system. We’ve got enough with your statements and now, evidence that we can build a case against him, and that scumbag Larry. He’s not going to get away with shit. They’re going to pay this time.``
I was shaking my head, already past the point of wanting to hear reason. My panic was escalating and I started to pace a short, jerky route back and forth.
“That may be the case, but still. No one needs to deal with this baggage,” I said. “I am used to being alone, doing things on my own. I don’t get emotional and I don’t let anything in, for these exact reasons.”
He stood up a little straighter, I still couldn’t make out the look on his face, the light from outside shining from behind him. I was so distraught I couldn’t pick up on the tension radiating off of him.
“What exactly are you saying, Rebecca?” he asked.
“I don’t think we should continue this,” I blurted out, even as it shattered my heart in my chest. “I shouldn’t have sucked more people into my chaos. Natasha even knows now and I have to worry about how it’s going to affect her in the long run,” I added, shaking my head at myself. “I have a daughter to worry about. I have responsibilities that come before my own feelings and wants.”
“What about what I want?” his voice was low.
“Lucas,” I said exasperated. “You don’t want this!” I practically yelled, gesturing with my hands to the space between us.
“Really?” He was practically whispering at this point and maybe that should’ve alerted something within me to stop while I was ahead. I was too used to a man striking out loudly, and with violence, his quiet anger and frustration weren’t registering to me in my own fight or flight mode.
“I have so much baggage and trauma I don’t even know how to be normal!” I ranted, continuing, “I hadn’t even ever been on a real date before you. I don’t even know if I am doing this right!” I was definitely yelling now, completely irrational at this point. “Who’s to say we’re even compatible?”
“Compatible?” He asked, completely caught off guard.
“Yes. Compatible. You haven’t even taken things further than messing around,” I continued, trying to grasp at something that proved he didn’t really want me.
“I wonder sometimes if you really want this, or me? If you’re even really attracted to me? I mean. I’m a bigger woman. Clark said I was absolutely shitty in bed. He blamed everything on me. You’re far more experienced and you haven’t even attempted to move past anything we’ve done.”
“Clark,” I heard him mutter.
“I mean…what if you took me to bed and it just fell apart after that?” I asked, “I can’t hinge a maybe-relationship on the off chance you may like a mediocre lay,” I added putting my hands on my forehead now.
“Medicore lay?” he asked. “Is that really what you think?”
He stood up, towering over me, and I finally clued in to some sort of anger radiating just below the surface of his skin. He was barely containing himself. I stepped back and he stepped forward towards me.
“You listen to me, Rebecca Wareman,” he growled, my back met the wall behind me, breath caught in my throat, “Clark doesn’t exist here,” he emphasized, stepping into my space, hands on either side of my head against the wall.
“What he is, or did, may have a pivotal part in how you feel or think about yourself, but not how I see or feel about you.”
His hand found my throat, low on my neck, like it always did. Not squeezing or cutting air off, just centering me in a way I’d come to crave.
“Lucas…” I whispered.
“I think you’ve said enough, Becks,” he said, “it's my turn.”
My eyes widened.
“You think I’m not continuing things because I don’t want you? I’m not attracted to you? Bullshit. I’ve been hard since the day you backed your ass into me in that fucking school office,” He ground out, “I wanted to bend you over, in front of everyone, and stake my claim on you.”
My breath caught in my throat. This man meant business, and I’d poked some sort of nerve that had him on the edge of losing control.
“You think I don’t want you?” He asked again, almost disbelieving. “You are not running or going anywhere, Rebecca,” he affirmed.
“You’re not allowed to make executive decisions by yourself about our relationship,” he continued.
I couldn’t even be mad at the authority in his voice, it was grounding me. His voice was flooring me in its conviction.
“You’re mine,” he said, his hand tightening slightly on my neck, “and I’m going to spend tonight ensuring that every time you move tomorrow, every time you walk or go to sit down, you feel where I’ve been inside you. I'm going to make sure you remember just how much I want you.”
