She tells me about the cardboard forts, tent villages, abandoned houses, and cold sidewalks they called home.
She tells me about the foster system, the bullies, abuse, molestations, and overall lack of adult supervision, and how Jag saved her from every bad situation with a promise in the bend of his pinky finger.
She tells me about the night she started her period and what happened after she told Jag her virginity had been taken from her.
She tells me about the deep, innocent love she had for him, and how it burned straight through her.
Then she tells me how he killed that love in a drug dealer’s house, how he hurt her so profoundly their relationship never recovered.
I can picture him in those early years, in his late teens, early twenties, homeless, feral, ready to torch the world for her.I can guess why he fucked those women after she offered her too-young body to him.He knew it would end her inappropriate crush and end whatever temptations he was fighting.
Deep down, she knows this, too.She just hasn’t been able to see past the excruciating devastation he inflicted.
“I thought he hated me and wanted to punish me.”Her hand fists in my shirt.
“You were fifteen, Bluebird.He screwed up how he handled it, like a typical twenty-year-old, idiot male.But rejecting you that night was the right thing, the only responsible choice, and he paid for it.Hell, he’s still paying for it.”
“I know that.”Her breath strikes my collarbone, warm and shaking.“Doesn’t excuse his behavior for the last seventeen years.”
“Dead on, darling.”I skate my fingers across her shoulders, tracing the faint scars in silent question.
“The marks are from that night.When I caught him with those women, I ran, shoved myself through a metal fence, and didn’t have the supplies to mend the wounds correctly.”
I keep my hand on her shoulder, but the scars don’t need more words tonight.“We need to sleep.”
She nods, exhausted enough that the motion barely registers.
“When we wake, I’ll return to Jag and see if he read the journal.”I yawn.“See if he’s ready to build trust and let me help.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
It’s the same crossroads as the dock.Same tension crackling between us.
“You promised.”She lifts her head, glaring.
Fuck.I did.Hours ago, amid the arguing and frustration, I told her if she stayed on the island, she could go next time.
“I’m going.”She taps my lips.“But not to see him.”
That stops me.
“I’d rather go to the garage.”She settles into the pillow.“I need to put in my notice to quit.Finish the repairs that need my attention.Then I’ll wait there.”
I search her face, trying to find the angle I’m missing.
“I want to be close to you, Wolf.In case something goes sideways.If he pulls his usual shit, if you get triggered or shut down…” She presses her forehead to my chest.“I don’t want to be an ocean away if you need me.”
“This has nothing to do with me being tri-curious?”
“Tri-what?”
“Let me ask you something.If Jag was trustworthy—”
“He’s not.”
“If he’d shown up tonight as the man you loved before everything went to hell, if he’d begged your forgiveness and tossed all his secrets at your feet, would you have considered building a relationship with him?Asexualrelationship?”
