Following Me(52)

“I didn’t think I would like it at first, but as you can imagine…maybe…” She shifted her eyes away from him. “Well, it kept things interesting. I never knew what he was going to do. That came with a price at times, but the more it happened, the higher the price I was willing to pay. I trusted him completely…until something tipped the balance further.”

“Tipped the balance…how?” Garrett asked curiously.

“It stopped being about sex. I have zero complaints about the sex. When it stopped being about us, it got out of control,” she said, trying to explain. “If I told people about this, I would tell anyone I know to try that kind of relationship. I have never felt more safe and sexy and wanted. You’re looking at me like you don’t believe me, but try it out first, and you’ll come around.”

She crossed her arms against his disbelief. She would never be able to explain this to someone who had never experienced it, and she would never want to change how it had happened. She would never take it back.

“It was more about him being in control that changed everything.”

“Wasn’t he in control during sex?” Garrett asked, looking more curious than judgmental.

“No, not exactly. It was mutual. He might have looked like he was in control, but it was consensual. He would only give me as much as I could handle, and I wanted him to push those limits. It’s a hard thing to grasp…” She trailed off.

How could she explain the next part? How could she make Garrett see the difference? Sex was not the problem. He was the problem.

“He changed, and it had nothing to do with the sex. He needed to control me. He had always been one of those people who asked where I was going and when I would be back. He always had to know. But then, he started asking why was I going there, and he started telling me when I had to be back. Then, I wasn’t allowed to go at all. I just wanted to make him happy because I love him so damn much, but he wanted all the control in my life, which left me with none. That’s when I realized I was no longer a person anymore. I was his object.”

Devon stopped trying to explain and went back into her story. “I was home early from school one day. I wasn’t expecting him, but I could tell something was wrong. And it might sound strange, but I never thought he did any of these things out of anger. He did them out of love.”

“You think he held you under boiling water out of love?” Garrett asked incredulously.

Devon glared at him. “I didn’t say you would understand. The sex was not a threat. It had nothing to do with him being angry with me.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Keep going. It was my question. I want to hear the answer.”

Devon didn’t want to continue. She didn’t want to tell him the extent of her story. How could he ever understand what she had gone through and why she had allowed it? “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not the night for this,” she said, standing on wobbly legs.

Holy shit, how much did I drink? she wondered.

“Whoa,” he said, jumping to his feet to steady her.

She didn’t know how he was more stable than her. He had shown up drunk, and then he had proceeded to drink twice as much as her. His hands were on her hips, holding her up, as her head spun so fast that she had to close her eyes. She gripped the collar of his shirt to keep herself standing, and she felt more than heard his intake of breath.

Whoops!

“You should sit back down,” he said, guiding her back to the couch. “I’ll get you some water.”

When he returned with a glass of water, Devon took a few sips of it, thankful for the distraction. The more she talked about this story, the more she missed St. Louis, and the more she wanted to go home. Her heart ached to feel that all over again, for it to be as it once was. Maybe it could be like that again.

“Dev,” Garrett whispered, taking the drink out of her hand and placing it on the table, “what happened that day when you came home early?”

She didn’t want to recall the memories. Suppressing them was easier than reliving them. She tipped her head to the side and settled it against his shoulder. That was easier than facing him.

“That day, he came home and hit me until I was knocked unconscious.”

She definitely heard Garrett’s intake of breath that time.

“I remember waking up, lying on the floor of my bathroom. It was really cold, and I found I had been stripped naked. I couldn’t stop shivering, but I was careful not to move too quickly. My head was throbbing, and my body was splattered in bruises. At first, I couldn’t remember what happened, but when he walked into the bathroom, it all came back to me. I started crying from the pain and the disbelief that he would do this to me. I remember his words. ‘How could you make me do this to you?’ It was my fault. It was all my fault that it had happened.”

Garrett squeezed her knee softly. “Devon, it wasn’t your fault.”

A tear fell from her eye, and she let it roll down her cheek. “It was my fault. If only I had been better to him or if I had done more, he wouldn’t have gotten so upset.” She took a shuddering breath. “I never wanted to make him that unhappy ever again. We had greatness, you know?”

“Dev—”

“I swore I would do better and try harder. I wanted us to work. We had to work. I asked him to promise he would never do it again,” she whispered.