A rumbling growl comes from Noah’s side of the table. The charged silence is back now, too, as the guys’ protective compulsions activate.
I only vaguely remember Tytus’s father threatening me. I believe he did, but so much of that day lives in compartmentalized flashes and soundbites in my mind. I never allow myself to fully sink into the memories, for fear that if I let myself go back there, I’ll never resurface. They’ve faded into background music that’s constantly playing but indescribable. The memories have become inescapable haunting melodies that are just part of who I am.
“Your father—” Mercer starts. “He had a history of violence?”
“He was mentally, physically, and psychologically abusive,” I offer, knowing this part will be exceptionally hard for Ty.
I peer back at him, taking in his hard-set eyes and the way his jaw works back and forth. I search his face, asking the unspoken question.Can I tell them more?
This was his idea, after all. But I don’t want to overshare or provide information Ty would rather Mercer and Noah didn’t know.
His Adam’s apple bobs, then he nods.
I sit up straighter, steeling my shoulders. They need to understand the severity of the situation, but the faster I get through this, the better. “Ty’s dad used to force him into a metal kennel. He’d lock him up for days, deny him food and water. He’d cover the kennel with blankets when he didn’t want to deal with him. Sometimes he’d flip over the cage without warning. He still has scars from where the grates pressed into his skin and created sores.”
Ty’s hold on my stomach tightens. I place my hand over his, smoothing over his knuckles until he spreads his fingers and lets me hold his hand.
“His father abused him for sport, but when authorities stepped in, he fought like hell to keep custody. He didn’t give him up willingly. Ty went through…” A wave of grief washes over me. “He went through a lot just to get away from his abuser.”
A heavy silence surrounds us.
It hurts. Sitting here, casually sharing our darkest truths. But I focus on my breath, keeping my inhalations slow and steady.
We survived that night.
We can survive this, too.
Mercer clears his throat. “So when you were stuck in the storage locker…” His cheeks are soaked with tears, the realization of the extent of the damage he caused finally starting to sink in.
Ty keeps his head down, his body tensing beneath me, chest shuddering with each breath.
I squeeze his hand. “We’re okay.”
He nods, but he doesn’t lift his head.
Noah sighs. “So that’s where the marriage bit came from. If the authorities believe you’re married, you wouldn’t have to testify against each other, if it ever came to that.”
I still.
That’snotwhere the marriage bit came from.
But discussing Ty’s abusive father and the trauma we endured together when we killed him has caused enough pain. We don’t need to rehash Ty’s darkest delusions. At least not right now.
Ty took things too far with the whole marriage bit, and it’s going to take time and concerted effort on his part to prove he’s not going to pull shit like that again.
“Just so we’re all clear, you’re not actually married, right?” Noah asks, his voice low.
With a watery smile, I shake my head. “We’re not.”
“But that can’t be fact-checked or verified,” Ty adds. “Only the people listed on the marriage certificate can request a copy of it in the province of Quebec.”
I scrunch my nose. I didn’t know that, and I don’t want to think about why Ty did.
As if sensing my discomfort, he wraps his free arm around me. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, the words just for me.
The apology is a balm.
It doesn’t change what he did. It doesn’t erase the mistrust, stress, and dysfunction that he created when he spent weeks insisting I was his wife. As much as I wish there was an instant solution to the heartache we’ve both caused, a simple apology can’t magically make everything better.
