“Does it have to do with your panic attack a few minutes ago?”
“It wasn’t a panic attack,” I said. “I was overwhelmed. I’m f—” I stopped myself from using the wordfineso David wouldn’t start another argument over it. “I’m all good.”
“You’re not. You were hurting just now. Tell me what overwhelmed you,” he said, unaffected by my brush-off—a tactic that often worked with Bill.
“I don’t want to lie to you,” I said, but even I heard the defeat in my voice. “So please don’t make me.”
He laughed softly and buried his nose in my chest, placing a feather-light kiss between my breasts. “Don’t lie. I’m not easily scared off.” Suddenly, his body weighed on me, his breath on my skin seeming to hit an exposed nerve with every exhale. I must have moved, because he said, “Stop. Don’t pull away. Tell me what’s going through your head.”
Despite the fact that the scar would forever be linked to my mother, in that moment, it was Davena’s memory that made my chest stutter.
I hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Gretchen or Lucy yet—I’d barely even spoken toBillabout Davena’s death. Could I really share my grief with David?
I sighed and looked out the bedroom window. Icould. I could tell David everything—that was the problem. I could tell him, knowing he would somehow take some of that pain, shoulder it, and comfort me.
“A family friend passed away last night,” I said. “I found out this morning while we were at the station.”
David stilled beside me. “I’m sorry. I had no idea—you seemed . . . I didn’t realize that was what had upset you.”
I nodded. “It was cancer.”
“And you were close?”
A lump formed in the back of my throat. I kept my face turned away. “She’s been there for me in ways my mother hasn’t,” I said, my voice hitching.
“Ah.” David ran the pad of his thumb along my jawline. “I gather your relationship with your mom is strained.”
I returned my eyes to his. I was right. There was nothing in his expression but comfort and understanding. And an invitation to tell him anything on my mind without judgment.
“She accidentally stabbed me when I was younger.”
His jaw clicked as he jutted it to one side. “Your mom?”
It felt ridiculous to say out loud. I hadn’t had to talk about it in much detail since that night at the hospital sixteen years ago.
All that blood.
“My parents fought a lot, but never more than the year leading up to their divorce,” I explained. “One night, she pulled a knife. My dad had come home late from the office. I was used to being woken up by their arguments, but this one was especially bad.”
“What was it about?” David asked.
“Gina.”
“Gina?”
“A client of his. They’d fought over her before.”
“If you’re using her name all these years later,” David said, “then I’m guessing your mom was right to be upset about her.”
I shook my head. “My dad wasn’t a cheater,” I said. “Gina eventually became his second wife, yes, but nothing happened between them until after the divorce.”
David shifted. “I see. What happened?”
“That’s it. I was spying on the fight. When the knife came out, I freaked and ran between them. It was an accident, what she did, but it didn’t matter.”
With the words out of my mouth, I no longer felt cornered. David’s body changed from a trap to a shield. I glided a hand over his smooth upper back. I’d said it aloud, and the world hadn’t come crashing down.
“Then what?” he asked.
