The guilt was too much now.
I met her curious gaze and motioned for her to join me. “Sure, but only if you want to and aren’t planning on going off on me again.”
She sighed. “Look, Dillon. I’m sorry for the way I acted that day. I know I’ve been throwing you mixed signals lately, but it’s just because I’m trying to work through some things.”
She sat down next to me and laid her head on my shoulder. “It’s not easy to move on when you’re still hung up on your dead ex.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
Her fingers threaded between the spaces of my hand and squeezed. “Thank you for being understanding. I should’ve never gone off on you the way I did. I was just… jealous, I guess.”
“Why?”
“Because I like you, and don’t like it when other people touch you.”
I frowned. “I was telling her no before you walked in there.”
She smiled. “I know. That’s why I pulled the bitch off of you. I should’ve kept some of her weave as a souvenir.”
“She wears a weave?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I almost yanked her extensions right off her ugly little head.”
“Man, remind me not to cross you in the future.” I pushed her with my shoulder and smiled.
“So, what’s eating you?”
My gaze instantly dropped to my phone, too consumed by all the guilt I was feeling.
“I don’t want to say because it will make you think less of me.”
“I don’t think I could ever do that, Dillon. You’re a good guy.”
“I’m not always good,” I mumbled, forcing myself to look up at her. “I’ve done some stuff in the past I can’t reverse and now I’m trying to right a wrong I committed, knowing it’s an impossible task.”
She squeezed my hand, giving me a friendly smile. “I’m a good listener. I’ve always heard that telling someone else your problems helps release any stress you’re under. And you’re looking really stressed, Dillon.”
I shrugged. “I’m feeling guilty, and guilt isn’t an emotion I like to play around with.”
“Talk to me. I want to be here for you, like you were for me when I told you about my ex and miscarriage.”
I met her gaze and sighed. “Okay,” I whispered, knowing that telling her might help in some way. “Do you know much about the Hell’s Artillery?”
She shook her head. “Just that they’re bad people.”
“Well, they’re worse than you think. I was in the foster care system for most of my life, moving from home to home with my older sister Joey until she aged out. When she turned eighteen, she tried to fight for custody of me, but the state wouldn’t let her, so she ended up leaving me behind, and they sent me off to a boys’ home in Austin. Living in the foster care system wasn’t easy. We saw a lot of shit and had some things happen to us that are really hard to talk about. Joey got it the worst, but I had my fair share of experiences as well…” I looked up at Sienna, wondering if I should tell her anything at all. Would she think less of me if I told her I was raped at the age of ten?
“There was one house that was the absolute worst. We were only there for four weeks, but in those four weeks everything changed for us. My sister, who was twelve at the time, was repeatedly raped by the father figure of the household.”
Sienna gasped, covering her mouth as tears filled her eyes. “Oh no.”
“Yeah, it was really bad. I found out that Joey did it to protect me because she thought he was hurting me… only…” I met her gaze once again, afraid of opening up to the only person I felt close to.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to.”
I gave her a pained look, grimacing when I saw the pity that was written all over her face. It was one look I’d grown accustomed to over the years, especially when people found out what happened to me and Joey in the Kennedy home.
“I want to. In order for you to understand my actions, it’s important that you know my past, no matter how fucked up it is.”
