Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(75)

“But now you’re just a stranger. A stranger who needs to leave my home.”

Porter’s teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached. Her words shocked and destroyed him. Seething, he replied, “You were supposed to protect me from the evils of the world, not become one of them.”

Alice swallowed hard, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Porter didn’t care. He wanted to hurt her, to cause her pain the way she’d caused an insurmountable amount of pain for him and his life in the outside world.

“How do you live with yourself?” Porter shook his head, fighting back the tears that were building. He couldn’t let her see the emotion that was expanding within his chest. “You’re a despicable human being, and I’m better off without you.”

“Leave, please,” his mother begged.

He knew he’d affected her. He’d finally broken through her tough exterior to expose her lies, her hypocrisy, her selfishness.

“No problem,” he snapped before punching the front door. His knuckles made contact, denting the wood. “I’m outta here!”

Porter heard the door slam behind him. He knew that in just a few short hours, his mother would block out their entire interaction, as if it had never happened. His decision to confront her was a disastrous mistake. He didn’t think it was possible for his mother to wound him more than she had years ago in his father’s truck.

But she had. Her cold reaction to him standing in her doorway destroyed him. The way she looked at him, the cutting bite of her words. Now, more than ever before, he knew he was an orphan in this world.

Alone.

And then his phone buzzed from the pocket of his jeans.

With tears burning his eyes, he trudged through the mud to seek out the only person he could trust. The single, solitary person who actually loved him. Who wasn’t ashamed of his existence. The only person in the world who understood him and loved him just the same. Despite his faults, despite every shitty decision he’d ever made in his lifetime.

She was the only one who mattered.



Chapter 28

My mouth dropped open and guilt attacked my body like a swarm of vicious wasps. As Porter finally revealed what had happened that night, my heart plummeted to my feet. I’d doubted him, thought the worst of him when he needed me the most. I could only hope he’d forgive me.

“Is it my fault?” I asked.

“You’ve never even met my mother, Brin. How could it be your fault?” His eyes were dull, lifeless, as shell-shocked as if he’d survived a war.

“I mean, the reason you went back. Was that because of me? Because you thought you had to or something?” I couldn’t quite process why he’d made the decision to see his mother again.

“Of course not. I just—being with you, it got me thinking. And since I’ve been clean . . . or, I was, anyway.” He groaned. “When I’m clean, my thoughts go back there. I don’t know why.”

“I’m sorry. I feel awful that I bring you back there, you know, in your head.”

“None of this is your fault,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye and clearing his throat. “I know I’m not her son anymore. I just wish she loved me as much as I still love her.”

“You still love her?” My heart broke in two.

He chuckled, but it came out sad, melancholy. “Against my better judgment, yes.”

“They don’t deserve you,” I whispered, rubbing his thigh. “Not one bit.”

He pressed his lips into a fine line as he shook his head. Then he took a deep breath as he avoided my eyes. “My brain knows that, but . . .”

“But what?”

“What if it’s true, Brin? What if I really am damned?”

“Don’t even say that!” I snapped, jerking my body away when he attempted to hold my hand.

His expression softened and he trailed his fingers down my cheek. “I told you, you’re my heaven. If I burn when I die, that’s fine. I’m a selfish man and I want my heaven now.”

“And I told you, you have a beautiful soul. You’re not going to burn.”

He shrugged, releasing a sigh. “You’re the only one who seems to think so.”

“You need to think so too. How can you love me if you don’t love yourself?”

His hands fell to his lap as he pondered my question. “Loving you is just . . . it’s the simplest thing I’ve ever done. Loving myself? Totally different story.”

I shifted to rest my head in his lap. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you how deserving you are.”

“I’m a junkie,” he muttered. “You deserve better.”

Shaking my head, I gripped his bended knee. “No. I deserve a man who will love me, protect me, and cherish me. A man who would climb through my window to give me a way to communicate with him. A man who will put me first.”

“Sounds like quite the guy.” He chuckled, stroking my hair. “I’ll let you know if I run into him.”

“Silly man,” I said with a roll of my eyes, and continued to massage his knee. “You’re all I need. You know that.”

“You know what my biggest fear is?”

“Tell me.”