Page 91 of You Make Me Feel
“In a car accident,” I whisper. “She was driving home from work, the roads were wet and visibility was low. She was pulling out at an intersection and didn’t see the truck coming.”
“Christ,” he mutters, his fingers tangling in my hair.
I swallow. “It was instantaneous. That’s what they said. It was… a relief to know she didn’t suffer, I guess. But I couldn’t bring myself out of the hole of losing her. I dropped out of college, tried getting a job, and messed that up. And then I met Darien.” I let out a breath. “He was a friend of a friend. That kind of person. The one everybody knows but everybody knows better than to rely on.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Except me, apparently.”
“He got you at your lowest.”
I nod. “He was bad news. And I knew that, somewhere deep inside. But he was somebody. And it felt better than having nobody. We’d get drunk together. He’d do… worse things. My mom’s life insurance paid out, which meant I could afford an apartment. He helped me move in and never left. And I let him, because it was better than being alone and missing my mom.”
He kisses my brow, like he knows my pulse is racing.
“He didn’t treat me great. I think he wanted the money I inherited more than he ever wanted me. But luckily my mom had been sensible. I only got half of the insurance payout right away, the other half went into a trust until my twenty-fifth birthday.”
“Your mom sounds like a wise woman.”
I nod against his chest, breathing in his warm scent. “She was. It was always her and me. My dad left when she was pregnant and we never heard from him again. So it was us against the world.” I swallow hard, remembering how much she loved me. How fiercely I loved her back. “She would have hated Darien. He was a shitbag. And a thief.” And that’s one of the reasons I’ll never forgive myself for letting him stay. Letting myself depend on him. Spending her money on him.
“So when did you split up?” he asks.
I look up at him. There’s no anger on his face. Just silent concern and it touches me to my core. “Too late,” I say, shaking my head at the girl I used to be. “I stayed with him for three years. He never worked an honest day in his life. He spent my money, and when that was gone, he’d berate me for it. And I kept pretending it was fine because admitting the truth meant admitting I’d wrecked my life on purpose.”
He shifts closer, his leg brushing mine. It grounds me in the current.
“But I didn’t leave. Not until the night he got arrested. They came for him in the middle of the night. Cops knocked down the door, pulled him out of bed, and told me to get dressed. He’d been caught breaking into houses. I had no idea but he was part of some gang that found him useful because he was an idiot who would do the dirty work for them. I had to sit in that police station in the early hours ofthe morning all alone and listen to them list all the families whose lives he’d messed up. And I just… I broke down. Imagined my mom seeing me there. Imagined her learning what I’d become. It killed me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the police showing me the evidence. He’d taken my mom’s money and then he took other peoples’ without even asking. And I couldn’t believe I’d let myself get dragged down that far.
“After they were sure I wasn’t involved, they let me go. And in that moment it was like something had snapped,” I say softly. “Like I’d woken up after sleeping for years. So I went home, threw everything into a suitcase, arranged for his stuff to be taken to a storage unit, and a few weeks later I came into the rest of the money and decided to start over.”
“Did you hear from him again?” Zach asks. “Before today?”
“When he found out I was leaving him, he tried to threaten me. He was in jail, but he sent friends around to my apartment as I was packing up to mess with me. But I got some good legal advice, and got an order of protection that meant he couldn’t contact me in person or by phone. So I made a plan. I realized I had enough money to set myself up if I used it wisely. So I did.”
He cups my face with his hands, his eyes so soft I could lose myself in them, and then he kisses me even more softly, a gentle-almost-there touch of his lips against mine.
“I hate that I was so weak,” I whisper. “That I let him do that to me. The money from my mom, or part of it… we used it up and threw it away like it was nothing. Like she was nothing. That’s what hurts most of all.”
And I think that’s why I was so upset. Hearing his voice reminded me of what I’d done. And how much I miss my mom.
How I don’t want to let her down anymore.
His hands hold my face with a tenderness that almost hurts, like he’s afraid I’ll slip through his fingers if he isn’t careful. His forehead touches mine, his breath warm against my lips.
“You weren’t weak,” he says quietly. “You were grieving. You were a kid, you’d lost your mom, you had nobody to catch you. And look at you now. Running your own business. Part of the community. Everybody loves you.” He strokes my cheeks with his fingertips. “Your mom would be so proud of you.”
His words slip into the remaining cracks I’ve spent years trying to fill. I don’t know what to say. So I lie there and breathe him in, letting his warmth curl around me like armor, letting his strength fill the spaces where mine used to be.
“I wish you could have met her,” I murmur, even though I know that wouldn’t happen even if she was alive. We’re not together. We’re not a thing. We’re just… whatever this is.
“I wish I could have too,” he says, his voice a low rumble against my skin.
He doesn’t ask any more questions. Doesn’t push. He just pulls me against his chest like I belong there, one of his hands splayed between my shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of my head. His touch is quiet and steady, and it makes something inside me loosen. Not in a dangerous way. In the kind of way that lets you sleep without one eye open.
“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” I whisper.
“Then don’t be,” he says. “You’re safe here. I’ll make sure of that.”
I nod, or maybe I dream it. My body melts into his, mybreath syncing with his slow rhythm. The last thing I feel is his lips on my forehead and the quiet thud of his heart beneath my cheek.
