Dream Chaser (Dream Team, #2)(49)

I remained silent.

“So that line took me right to your dad.”

Shit.

“Boone.”

That was all I said, because depending on what he found out, that was all that could be said.

“It’s no different, girls and guys,” Boone said. “You either hope to God you grow up to be just like your mother, like you, or you hope you’re nothing like her. Lucky for me, I’m like you. I had a dad to look up to, I did, and I still do. Your brother didn’t.”

“I hear you.”

“I don’t know where that takes a guy, seein’ as I don’t have that. I just know there’s a good chance it doesn’t take him to a good place. Like, fuckin’ up his life, his family, like his father did, something somewhere along the way he probably vowed to himself he’d never do, and on some level knowing he was following in his dad’s footsteps, and drowning that shit in the bottom of a bottle because he can’t deal with that mammoth of a fuckup.”

“I think alcoholism is an illness that needs to be treated, Boone.”

“I agree. But there’s a catalyst that triggers the need not to think or feel and the addictive behavior carries on from that, Ryn. And you can’t treat something when you don’t know its cause.”

He was undoubtedly right.

“How much do you know about Dad?” I asked.

“I know you don’t call him or see him, your brother doesn’t call him or see him, and he’s not on Angelica’s phone tree for when she needs a new outfit.”

Hmm.

Boone kept going.

“I know he had judgments against him for not paying child support. I know he counter-sued, alleging your mother was withholding you and your brother for visitation. And I know both you and Brian testified in front of a judge that those times you were supposedly withheld from him, he just didn’t show up.”

Well, court documents were public records.

So yeah, it was awesome to know (not) that somewhere out there the crap of my family life was available for anyone to read.

And one of the people who read it was Boone.

“And I know,” Boone continued, “you’ve owned that house you want to flip for nearly a year and it hasn’t even been fully demoed. If my dad was here, he had a daughter, that was something she wanted to do, and life got in the way, he’d be there every weekend, pulling out carpet drenched in cat piss and cutting stone to fit French doors.”

I had a great mom. I should be down with that. A lot of people didn’t have either parent give a shit about them.

But the way Boone described his dad made me long for a great dad.

“So, the baggage I carry not weighing you down yet?” I asked miserably.

“My best friend from the military got out around the time I did, came home to his wife and eight-month-old baby, struggled silently for six months without saying dick to anyone, then blew his brains out in his truck in their garage.”

My entire body swayed back in shock and pain at his words.

“Baby,” I whispered.

“Whitney, his wife, found him.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

I couldn’t imagine.

I didn’t want to imagine.

I didn’t even want to know this, but more, know Boone was living with this.

“Her first call was to me. I got there before the cops did.”

He’d seen his friend like that.

Oh God.

“Boone.”

“I’d hold a woman down in ways she liked when I fucked her. And I never could really get off in bed unless I was in control. But that shit went overdrive, and stayed overdrive, after I did what I did, saw what I saw, and lost what I lost in the service, Kathryn. Sometimes, it’s gonna be natural, a need to connect with you and dominate when we do. And sometimes it’s gonna be therapeutic, a need to control and release.”

No threat of me passing out now.

I was getting a lot of oxygen due to me breathing heavily at all he was laying on me.

“So how do you feel about that baggage?” he asked.

“I think our morning has been way too heavy to face any longer without coffee,” I answered.

“That isn’t what I’m looking for, honey,” he replied softly.

I knew it wasn’t.

Shit!

Where did I go with this?

I started with, “Okay, with all that’s happening, I’m sure you haven’t missed I’m a pretty strong person, Boone.”

“Your shit plus my shit equals a fuck ton of shit.”

With what he’d just given me, I was seeing he was not wrong about that.

“If you promise not to break, I won’t either,” I told him.

“I can’t promise not to break.”

Oh boy.

I took a moment to process that as I took him in.

Boone, all that tall, muscled commando goodness, warning me he could break?

I had entirely no clue how to deal with that and my next words shared I didn’t.

“Boone, baby,” I whispered.

“It’s getting real and it’s doing it fast with us, Kathryn. You’ve got your shit. I’ve got mine. But yours is external. Mine is internal. It’s also external with buds who are dealing with the same load as me, and after losing Jeb the way we did, I’ve made a promise to be there for them, same as they have for me. And I’m dedicated to that. You and me made this decision to give us a shot, and so you don’t bear the burden of thinking your baggage is going to point me to the door, you need to go in with your eyes open because it might be you who needs to walk away.”