"My father," I begin, then stop, swallowing hard against the memories that threaten to choke me. "He loved my mother. Obsessively. Possessively. And that love made him jealous of everything and everyone."
Rona's hand stays steady on my chest, her touch grounding me as the words spill out.
"At first, it was little things. He didn't like her having friends. Didn't want her going out without him. Said he just wanted to protect her, keep her safe." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Sound familiar?"
Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't pull away.
"It got worse as I got older and he drank more and more. He became convinced that every man who looked at her wanted to take her away from him. The mailman, the grocery clerk, even her own brother. He made our world smaller and smaller until she was barely allowed out of the house."
The memory of my mother's face, once so bright and full of laughter, slowly dimming as the walls of my father's obsession closed in around her, makes my chest tight with old grief.
"When I was fourteen," I continue, my voice barely above a growl, "I came home from school to find him attacking her. She'd gone to the grocery store without telling him, and he'd worked himself into a rage waiting for her to come back."
Rona's breath catches, tears brimming in her eyes. She covers her mouth with her hands like she’s trying not to cry.
“Oh, Darhg.” Her beautiful face is full of compassion, and it breaks my heart all over again. “I’m so sorry.”
"I tried to stop him, but I was just a kid and he was…" I continue, remembering the helpless fury of being overpowered by my own father. "A full-grown ogre. Strong. Tall. Full of rage. He threw me across the room like I weighed nothing. He broke a few of my ribs, but at least it focused his anger away from my mother."
My hand unconsciously goes to my ribs, where old fractures had healed but somehow the ghost of the pain remains. The memory of that day, of the fear and the helplessness, remain as fresh as ever in my mind.
"Once he saw what he did, he stopped. I remember the way he looked at me, like he didn’t even recognize his own son. He left to drink himself into a stupor and my mother took me and left the next morning while he was still passed out drunk. We drove to another state, changed our names, and started over. I never saw him again, though he tried to find us for years. I became the man of the house and I enrolled in the army the summer after high school. I wanted to provide a good life for her, just like she provided a good life for me."
Rona's tears are flowing freely now, her hand still pressed against my chest like she's trying to hold my broken pieces together.
“Where is your mother now?”
"She died of cancer when I was twenty-one," I say quietly, my throat closing at the mention of her terrible illness. "I was deployed overseas when she passed. I couldn't get home in time to say goodbye. I inherited this cabin from my grandmother five years ago, but I could never bring myself to sell it, even though I received many offers. In the end, Saltford Bay is the only true home I’ve ever known. The only part of my family that remains."
Rona nods, but she still doesn’t speak. Silence stretches between us until Rona breaks the spell.
"Are you scared of becoming like him?" she asks softly, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Is that why you keep pushing me away?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
"Of repeating his mistakes?"
"It's my deepest fear," I admit, the words scraping my throat raw. "That I'll love someone so much I'll destroy them."
She shakes her head slowly, a sad smile crossing her lips. "You could never hurt anyone like that, Darhg. Don't you see? You're nothing like him."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know who you are," she says simply. "You're the boy who saves baby birds. Who puts everyone else's safety above his own. Who walked away from me rather than risk crossing a line." Her hand slides up to cup my face, her thumb brushing across my cheek. "You're a protector, not a destroyer."
Something breaks open in my chest at her words, years of self-doubt and fear cracking like ice thawing in the spring. She sees me. Really sees me. Not the monster I'm afraid of becoming, but the man I've tried so hard to be.
Slowly, deliberately, she opens her legs, bracketing my hips with her thighs.
"I trust you," she whispers, and the simple declaration nearly brings me to my knees.
My hands close on her thighs above her jeans, feeling the warm, firm flesh beneath the denim. Her scent clouds my mind, sweet and intoxicating and utterly perfect. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to take what she's offering, to claim her the way every instinct demands.
"You're in danger," I warn her, my voice rough with want. "I'm too hungry for you, too obsessed already. If I take you now—"
"I've never been safer than when I'm with you," she interrupts, her voice fierce with conviction.
And that's when I break completely.
