"Wherever you want."
I pull my knees to my chest. Wrap my arms around them. It's easier to talk in the dark. Easier when I can't see his face. Can't see pity or judgment or whatever reaction he might have.
"They never wanted me," I whisper. "Not really. They wanted my sister. She was and is everything they dreamed of. Pretty, thin, charming. She could walk into a room and people would notice. Would want to know her. I was just there. The disappointing second daughter who wasn't pretty enough or special enough or anything enough."
"That's their problem. Not yours."
"You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do." His voice is firm. Absolute. "Parents who make their kids feel like they're not enough? That's on the parents. Every time."
I rest my chin on my knees. "They told me I should be grateful. When Castellano chose me. They said a man like him—rich, powerful, connected would never normally look at someone likeme. That I was lucky. That I should take what I was offered and be happy."
"What did they get out of it?" Marcus asks. "Just money?"
"A lot of it. Enough to pay off their debts. Buy a bigger house. Send my sister to the college she wanted." The bitterness creeps back into my voice. "I was a mere transaction. A way to solve their problems and elevate their status. What I wanted didn't matter."
"You told them no."
"I begged them." The memory makes my throat tight. "I got on my knees and begged. Told them I didn't want to marry him. That he scared me. That I'd rather do anything else like work three jobs, live in a car, I didn't care. Just please don't make me do this."
"They didn't listen."
"They called me ungrateful. Selfish. Said I was throwing away the only good thing that would ever happen to me." I swallow hard. "My sister said I was being dramatic. That plenty of women would kill for the opportunity I had."
Marcus makes a sound. Low and dangerous. "Your family is full of terrible people."
"Yeah." I wipe at my eyes. When did I start crying? "They are."
"You deserve better."
"I don't know what I deserve anymore." The words crack. "I just know I couldn't… I couldn't marry him. Couldn't spend the rest of my life with a man who looked at me like I was property he'd purchased. So, I ran."
"That took courage."
"Or stupidity. I'm still not sure which."
"Courage," Marcus says firmly. "Running when you're scared, when you have no plan, when everyone you've ever known is telling you you're wrong? That's courage, Nora. Don't let anyone tell you different."
A sob catches in my throat. I press my hand over my mouth to muffle it.
No one's ever—
No one's ever called me courageous before.
"Hey." Marcus's voice is closer suddenly. I hear him move. Feel the bed dip as he sits on the edge. "You're okay. You're safe."
"I'm sorry." The words come out muffled. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be—"
"Stop apologizing for feeling things." His hand finds my shoulder. Warm. Solid. Real. "You've been through hell. You're allowed to break down."
"I don't want to break down. I want to be—" I don't even know. Strong? Brave? Someone worth protecting?
"You want to be what?"
"Someone who doesn't need saving."
Marcus is quiet for a moment. His hand is still on my shoulder. Grounding.
