Until You (The Redemption, #1)(56)
Because he’s right. I’m living under his roof. I’m currently part of his girls’ lives when they are his everything. If I were in his shoes, I’d be asking a hell of a lot more questions than he is.
And I’d be demanding answers.
“I’ve spent many nights rolling up to a scene to find the woman terrified of her husband or boyfriend. Women who knew it didn’t matter how far they ran, he would do everything in his power to ensure his terror would follow her. You have the same look in your eyes sometimes. The same skittishness about things. I hope that I’m wrong, but if I’m not, just know that it’s okay. I’m not like that. I’m not like him. And you’re safe.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I do my best to blink them away.
And you’re safe.
How long has it been since I’ve really felt that way? Twenty-six months, ten days, and eight hours to be exact. Forty months, ten days, and thirteen hours since I walked without looking over my shoulder or fearing what might be hiding in the shadows.
An even crazier question is why does Crew’s presence make me feel like this can be a reality? That I can be safe? That I can walk and live and laugh without always worrying about what if?
And you’re safe.
Those words. This man. He might be wrong about the context of everything, but the lasting, scarring effects are basically the same.
I am running from a man whose identity terrorized me. A man I thought was my future but found out I didn’t really know at all.
“Thank you,” I whisper. They’re the only words I can manage to say that keep my voice, and the dam holding back the tears, from breaking.
We fall quiet as we sit there with the sun slowly setting and the tall grass rippling like a moving tide around us. I appreciate that he is giving me a moment or two to digest this conversation. It’s a door I didn’t want to open but am grateful I was able to at least stick my toes in it so he feels like I’m opening up.
“I blamed myself when Brittney up and left after thirteen years of marriage. No warning. No nothing. I was blindsided and dumbfounded.” He chuckles. “I know most guys are dense and don’t pick up on shit, but I do. Well, I try to at least, but her affair, her desire to move across the Atlantic with a man ten years younger than me was a shock, not to mention a major blow to my ego. But truth be told, I didn’t have time or a chance to even process that, because I was so busy trying to minimize the damage to the girls.”
“I’m sorry. That had to have been—”
“Brutal? Soul-shattering? Take your pick.” Another disbelieving laugh. “I had failed. In my marriage. To my girls. I was terrified I had ruined them. It took me a while to realize that I can’t be responsible for other people’s actions. I can only work on me. I can only be the best at that.”
“You’re way more mature than I am.” I snort. “I’d be immature and lay that blame at her feet like there is no tomorrow.”
Just like my parents always blamed their misfortunes on me. Their drinking problems. Their inability to hold down jobs. Their hatred of me.
It’s no wonder I took the first bus out of there with my pointe shoes in hand and never looked back. After struggling for a year, I thought finding Kaleo was a godsend. A person who looked at me and loved instead of looking at me and hating or blaming.
He stood backstage after one of my performances and refused to leave until I spoke to him. His good looks and charm won me over immediately. His personality and dedication cemented his hold on my heart in the following months. I’d never been loved the way he loved me. Adored and cherished. The exact opposite of my parents . . . or so I thought.
I have a right to be bitter, to lay the blame at Kaleo’s feet, for everything that happened—just like Crew does with Brittney.
And yet he opts for the higher road.
“More mature?” Crew repeats and snorts. “Hardly, Tenny. I definitely did blame Brittney. I still do. But I’ve also learned that it’s not my fault she did what she did just as it’s not your fault he did what he did, whatever that is, to you.”
“I know,” I murmur.
“But do you?”
Crew’s question sits with me long after our walk, our dinner with the girls, and as I burn the midnight oil editing a book about a High Fae Prince and his chosen princess who fights her attraction to him for a large portion of the book.
Do I know that what Kaleo did wasn’t my fault?
Do I understand that while I loved him—maybe parts of me still do—that I was being controlled within an inch of my life so he could save his own image and forge his own protection?
Do I get that this whole process—creating a new life for myself and fearing his wrath—has its own emotional trauma that has resulted in me becoming introverted? Has made me keep my guard up and fear living because I’m afraid that those I become close to might get hurt in the shock waves if he were to find me?
But do you?
Such a good question.
And one I think I’m still trying to answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Crew
She tried to hide in the back row today.
She thought I didn’t notice. Hell, she thought no one would. But it’s pretty hard not to notice how she conveniently took off before the first shot was taken when I can’t take my eyes off the woman.