Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(35)

He waited.


“Just like you, I’ve had no real relationships in my sobriety, Colt. I’ve held back…because I’m ashamed.”


“Who you were then, ain’t who you are now, Indy.”


“I can tell myself that, and you can tell me that, because we’ve walked in those shoes. But we both know that’s not always the case with other people in our day-to-day lives. Even people who supposedly care about us.”


His thoughts flashed to his family and their continued skepticism of him.


“And if you share that humiliation, there’s the chance the person will use it against you at the first opportunity. Or they’ll cut you out of their life entirely. So how do you ever trust someone?


Without giving them the power to destroy you?”


Colt knew exactly what she meant. Part of him realized it was a trust issue everyone had on some level. But a larger part of him understood addicts harbored dark secrets that would shock and sicken some people who’d never had to deal with an inner demon hell bent on self-destruction.


Twelve-step meetings were a safe haven, a place to talk to folks who’d also hit rock bottom. But in some ways, those meetings provided attendees a false sense of security. If you’re in a roomful of drunks and addicts, and they’re accepting of your sordid history, well, then maybe there’s a chance others will accept you as you are now, and not judge you on what you’d done in the past.


Wrong. It didn’t work that way.


Colt saw India’s chest rising and falling as if she’d run a race.


He let his thumb drift over the back of her knuckles. “Breathe. Slow and steady.”


After a few minutes, she’d calmed down.


“Better?”


“Yeah. Thanks.”


“That’s what I’m here for.”


A soft laugh. “So the question of the day is…will you still be here after I make my confession?”


“Yep. I told you, Indy, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”


She locked her gaze to his. “If we’re going through with this crazy dating idea of yours, then this is something you should hear.


You should also know I’ve never told this to anyone I care about.”


Rather than let loose a whoop because she admitted she cared about him, he said, “Skylar doesn’t know?”


“No. Just a couple of detox counselors in California and…the other people involved, but I doubt they remember and they were just as stoned out of their gourds as I was.”


Then Colt knew her impending confession would be ugly. He didn’t say a word. He just held her hand, and her gaze and hoped it’d be enough.


“During my using years, I traded sex for drugs. And a couple of times when we couldn’t make rent, I charged for sex.”


“Oh, sugar. That had to’ve been rough.”


The wariness didn’t leave her eyes. “It’s kind of a blur. I’ve never been sure if it’s because I blocked it out, or if it was because of the drugs and booze.”


“Probably some of both. How’d it happen?”


“The guy I was with at the time, Larry, a loser I’d hooked up with in art school, was a small time dealer. We’d get high on whatever product wasn’t selling. His boss would come around to collect the money, and usually we’d snorted or smoked or shot up more than Larry’s cut. So, the boss would take the difference out on trade. Since Larry didn’t have shit, I was the commodity.”