Overcoming Fear (Growing Pains #2)(69)

They both froze.

As milliseconds ticked by, as Krista barely stayed above the waters of panic. She prayed to all that was holy that she hadn’t been wrong about Sean. That he wouldn’t hit her back.

As those vivid green eyes opened slowly, it took one full second to read her face. One more for dawning to strike.

He got off of her immediately.

Chapter Nineteen

Krista sighed as she was freed and noticed Sean’s face was one of pure shock. He looked down at her in confusion, his eyes probing hers. “Krista...” He pulled her to a seated position. “I’m so sorry I—Are you okay? I don’t know what came over me.”

He went introspective.

Krista nodded, because she was okay mostly, and pulled herself together. It took her another second to snap out of it, and then one more to push back the memories. When she was back in reality, finally letting her logical brain to take over, she sat still, feeling helpless as Sean huddled behind her on the couch.

By the look on his face--the self-deprecation, the regret, the horror--he knew exactly what had come over him, and it was obviously the thing that always broke when he got emotionally involved with a woman. It was the thing that made him push women away. It was clear it was not tied to sex. It was tied to love and intimacy.

And now it was applied to Krista.

Sean lay back down slowly. Krista, feeling slightly self-conscious—she just slapped the shit out of the guy—hesitantly laid down next to him, facing him, their heads only a few inches apart, breathing the same air. They needed to talk this out. He needed to know he hadn’t hurt her, and it was just as much her freak out as his.

But how to begin…

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Sean’s eyes were glassy and he was blinking quickly to keep them clear. The guy looked like he’d just killed a puppy.

“You didn’t hurt me or anything,” Krista continued, “I just got a bit… worried, is all. Kind of had a flashback…”

Sean winced.

Probably not wise to compare him to her abusive ex-boyfriend. Bad start.

Krista tried to explain, “I just freak out quicker than other girls, you know? Bad past. I should have recognized what was going on with you—I mean, you know…uh, when you get kind of emotionally bogged down…” She paused. This was not going well.

“I just panicked. Um, I just need you to know it wasn’t only you, and you weren’t hurting me.”

Sean wouldn’t meet her eyes. He slightly nodded, but that was to stop her from speaking further. She apparently wasn’t doing him any favors.

In the back of her mind, as she stared dumbly at the man crumbling before her eyes, Krista realized that, because of this meltdown, she reaffirmed the absolute faith that Sean wouldn’t physically hurt her. He was in a dark place a moment ago, but he still wasn’t violent. He also wasn’t falling over himself apologizing and giving blood-vows that he would never do it again.

Jim had always done that. He’d been appalled by what he’d done, by a bruise on her arm, by her tears or her sore lady-bits, and confess he lost himself. He’d say he was sorry, that he’d never do it again, and that he would kill himself if he ever hurt her. It was never his fault, either. It was his bro, who stole his pot, or some guy who owed him money, or even her, who got him so worked up he lost himself in sexual bliss.

Krista burrowed into Sean, needing his warmth against the bitterness of her past. Needing him to understand why she reacted the way she did. Needing him to stop his self-loathing game and talk it out like an adult.

“Should I go home?” she asked tentatively after he hadn’t responded to her body or need for cuddling. Sound seemed out of place in this fragile place they found themselves.

“It would probably be safer for you,” he was trying to keep his voice even but Krista could hear the tremor under it.

She changed tactics. “I’m not afraid of you, just my past. Do you want to be alone, or can I stay?”

“I think I should be alone.”

Krista’s instinct was to cling tightly to him; to refuse to leave. But she probably couldn’t help him. He needed support, but so did she. Many women could comfort others when their life was falling apart. They were called mothers. Krista wasn’t one of them.

They both got up and dressed in silence. Sean’s body was bowed and withdrawn, his eyes still glassy, his face a mess of guilt and self-hatred.

He had a bright pink mark on his cheek where she’d slapped him.

Forming her own self-hatred, she gathered her things, gave him a tight hug, then stepped out into the soupy night. It was a shit end to a great weekend.

When Krista woke up the next morning she was certain of one, tragic thing. He would end it. His insecurity would feed off of the knowledge that he lost control and possibly endangered her. Her slap would’ve driven home his wrongdoing. It would have cemented in his mind what he’d done wrong, and that he would irreparably hurt her in the future, if he hadn’t already.

If she had talked him down, he probably would have been fine, like the last time. But eventually that, too, would have caught up with that ego of his, and he would deduce that he was bad for her. That he would never be good enough. That she deserved better. With Sean, it was always that—he wasn’t good enough.

She got up in a daze of sleep deprivation. She dressed, put on makeup, did her hair and made her way to the train. She didn’t notice the weather, nor the crowded train, nor the small woman elbowing her in the ribs. When the train broke down, she made her way to the station without notice of getting bumped and jostled. When she finally made it to work ten minutes late, she didn’t notice the path to her desk, nor her office. Even the coffee tasted bland, and no amount of creamer or sugar would help.