“Andi…”
I lean over and sweep my hand along her jaw. I need her to know she’s safe with me. I need her to realize that I’m not him.
Her eyes lift to mine. Fucking stress hives are swelling all over her chest and rising up her neck. Muscle twitches in my jaw, and even though I want to shout and seethe about the bastard—possibly get in the car and hunt him down—I’m aware that anger isn’t what she needs from me right now.
“All the broken pieces?” she asks.
I exhale, grateful it at least takes the edge off my temper enough to appear normal.
“Every single one,” I swear. “I’ll pick them up with my bare hands.”
There’s another silent beat between us, and I crawl up the bed to her side. Taking her hand in mine, I kiss her knuckles and squeeze her fingers reassuringly.
I don’t want her to feel like she needs to hide or cover it in some way to protect me from the things she’s gone through. I want to share this scar with her. I want to share every scar she’s tried to ignore and push away.
We’ll be broken together.
“It actually happened on that orange couch in the garage at the old place,” she finally says. “That Thanksgiving that he came over. He thought I was flirting with you.”
My heart jumps into my throat.
He did this because of…
The look in Adam’s gaze the night at the club flashes behind my eyes. The recognition. The jealousy. He knew who I was because he thought…
Shit, no wonder the bastard knew every fucking detail about me.
“Is that why you kicked him out?”
“Once I got free, yeah,” she answers. “I hit him with Reed’s microphone stand.”
“He tied you up for this?”
Andi puffs nervously. “I thought he was being playful,” she admits. “I thought… I thought he was finally giving in to one of the games I’d asked him to play in the past. Role playing. Chasing. Masks. Bondage… He was always so tame in the bedroom, and I…god, I wanted so much more. At first, I was too embarrassed to tell him, but as the relationship went on, I assumed I was safe enough to voice those desires. I remember getting my hopes up when he roped my wrists and gagged me that night… then he started hitting me.”
Unwavering fury sweeps through me.
“I should have known that night was different with how he kept watching you during dinner,” she says. “It was the same jealous stare he wore when we would go out anywhere. Yet, that night, he pulled his knife on me and went through my phone for any texts between us. And when he didn’t find anything, he swore I was hiding it. That was when…” She pauses to toy with her fingers.
“He threw me down onto the couch and… and he cut me. He said no one would want me when they found out I was a lying whore.”
I want to get in my car and find the bastard.
I want to fucking wreck him for what he’s done to her, for everything he put her through after all the bullshit she dealt with growing up.
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter, knowing the words are nowhere near encompassing enough for what he truly is.
“He moved here a few years after we broke up,” she goes on. “He said it was because of some council job opening, but I’ve always felt it was something else. It’s like he’s been waiting for me to come back. Knowing that he’s here is one of the more frightening parts about coming home—along with facing memories of…everything,” she says. “It’s one of the reasons I’ve avoided coming back for so long. I know I shouldn’t let it all get under my skin or control my life, especially when I know I need to come home more, but…”
“Home isn’t easy,” I say as I look at my own burn scar.
Andi reaches over and slides her other hand into mine. “Erase him from me,” she whispers as our eyes meet.
The plea wedges itself between the shards of my broken heart.
I lean forward and brace my free hand around her cheek, my fingertips finding the roots of her hair. Her jaw drops slightly, and I release my own jagged breath.
“Give me time, and I will.”
