“It didn’t start with fists.”
The words catch me off guard. I don’t breathe. I don’t even blink.
Chapter 35
TOM
Pete goes on, each syllable heavy, deliberate.
“That’s the thing people never understand. It wasn’t obvious, not at the beginning. With James, it was gradual. Little comments, little rules. What to wear, who to see, how late I stayed out. It felt… protective, at first.”
My chest tightens. I want to reach for him, but I don’t. Not yet.
“And I liked it. At first. It made me feel special. Loved. Like I was the most important thing in the world to him and he just wanted me to be perfect.”
“But, then instead of lifting me up, it ground me down. Over and over again. One remark after the next. Putting me in my place. Knocking me down. Rewriting conversations we’d had.
“And then,” Pete continues, “it was a shove. A grip too tight on my arm. A bruise I couldn’t explain. But by then, he’d already done the groundwork. I believed I had nowhere else to go.”
The silence between us buzzes, alive with everything unsaid.
Pete rubs at his jaw, where the bruise is fading. “It’s not even the violence that breaks you. It’s how he makes me believe I deserve it. If I’d just done things right—kept him calm—it wouldn’t havehappened. He’s… he’s very good at that. Making me feel like I’m the problem.”
My throat is thick. I swallow hard, fighting the urge to shout, to scream, to fix this instantly. But I know I can’t.
“There are good days,” Pete continues. “And that’s the cruellest part. Days when he’s generous, charming, when I feel like the luckiest man alive. And then the next day, he’ll tear me down so hard I can’t look in the mirror. It’s like living on a rollercoaster I never bought a ticket for. But I can’t get off. I’ve forgotten what solid ground feels like.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
“It’s been years of walking on glass,” Pete whispers. “Of calculating every word, every expression. One wrong move means shouting, silence, or worse. That’s what my life is.”
I finally sit down next to him, not touching him yet. Just close enough for him to know I’m here.
He exhales shakily, then glances at me. “You want to know why James lets me… see other people?”
I nod.
Pete gives a humourless laugh. “Because it’s not about letting. It’s about control. That’s the game. He wants me to think I’m free. He dangles the rope and watches what I do with it. That’s what he gets off on — the power. The leash.”
The word makes my stomach drop.
“It’s a trick,” I whisper.
“Exactly. He tells me he’s not jealous, that he’s above all that. Makes it sound enlightened. Modern. But it’s not freedom. It’s just another test. The second he feels threatened, he yanks.”
I don’t know what to say. My head is full of static.
“That’s what happened with Chris,” Pete says finally, voice breaking.
The room holds its breath.
Pete’s jaw clenches, eyes glassy. “Chris wanted more. He wanted me to leave, to build something real. James saw that. Hated it. That’s when the leash snapped.”
My chest tightens like a vice. “Pete…”
“I swore I’d never let it happen again,” he says. “Never. But then you came along.”
His eyes meet mine, and it’s like being pinned in place. “And I told myself it was different. That you wouldn’t be a threat, because itwas casual. Quiet. Just connection. Just… a chance to breathe sometimes, away from him.”
