The guy I lost my virginity to ghosted me the next day. Amelia’s father bolted the instant he found out I was pregnant. And then there’s Cyrus…
All of them were just like Carter. Kind. Generous. Caring.
At first.
But I’ve learned my lesson. True colors don’t come out until people know everything about each other. Their past. Their secrets. And regardless of my growing feelings for the gorgeous guy upstairs, I’m quite possibly holding the biggest secret of them all. Which is why I shouldn’t be around him, oranyman. No matter how much fun we had building the snowman. Regardless of how many times over the past four nights he’s invaded my dreams. Despite the countless hours I’ve laid on the bed staring at the ceiling, wondering what he’s doing when I hear footsteps overhead.
“Mommy, I’m bored.”
It’s a statement I’ve heard a dozen times a day. Having been the primary source of my daughter’s entertainment for almost a year, I’m used to it by now. Would I love a little break in the monotony? An opportunity to introduce some variety and new friendships into her—our—lives? Of course. I just haven’t been able to trust that she’d be safe with anyone but me.
I thought my neighbor, Ms. Kinney, was safe. Based on the text Cyrus sent, I was wrong. Then again, he didn’t mention her by name, just that he knew who Amelia’s babysitter was. Was it simply another veiled threat? Or did he actually know?
I shudder thinking of the answer. Would he really do anything to Amelia? Hurt her? Take her? Or like the others who came out of nowhere and threatened me, is his intimidation just a means to get what he wants from me?
Because Cyrus doesn’t want her. Never did, despite his initial declarations to the contrary. That thought scares me even more. At least if he wanted her, she’d probably be safe fromphysical harm. But in the months after we married, she became nothing but a bother to him. He started raising his voice. Yelling at her, even.
Looking back, I was a fool to think he’d eventually fall in love with her. Looking back, I’m ashamed of myself for staying in a relationship that didn’t prioritize my child. Looking back, I’m relieved all he ever did was raise his voice and not his hand.
But verbal abuse is still abuse. I only hope Amelia is young enough that she’s forgotten it.
I’ve questioned many times why I stayed. My only answer is that it was familiar. I knew the rules because I was raised with them. I knew that in order to be loved, I had to follow those rules. But Amelia didn’t know. And she nevereverwill.
I’m not sure Cyrus would ever act on his ultimatums where Amelia is concerned. He just knows she’s my Achilles heel—the best and quickest way to get what he wants. And damn it, if it didn’t work on me once.
But shame on me for giving in to his demands. Because when he came back with more of them, I knew I’d set myself up for a lifetime of capitulating to him if I didn’t do something about it. I was stupid and naïve to think he’d simply go away.
“Careful, Kenna… you’d hate for Daddy to know the truth about you.”
Even now, I can still hear the glee in his voice knowing he had power over me. My uber-conservative father would not be happy knowing about my sordid past. Just the thought makes my heart pound. But it’s better than the threats against Amelia.Anythingis better than threats having to do with my daughter.
Blackmail. That’s what this is, pure and simple. I know it. He knows it. And the fact that I gave into it once proves how weak and foolish I really am.
I’m not going to be that weak and foolish again.
Which is why I’m avoiding going upstairs.
“Momm-eeeeeeee!” Amelia tugs on my arm.
“What is it, baby? I know you’re bored.” I pull out a deck of cards. “How about we play Go Fish?”
The corners of her mouth turn down. “You don’t play it like Christian and Bug.”
“Okay, then. Want to read one of your books? How about Dr. Seuss?”
“Carter talks like Dr. Seuss.”
I close my eyes, because, yes, I like it too.
“I want Carter to read it to me.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Carter is just the man we’re renting this room from. It’s not his place to play with you.”
“But we built the snowman. And he plays tic-tac-toe. And he colors.”
I sigh. How do I explain to a four-year-old who thinks the world revolves around her, that it doesn’t?
Music blares from upstairs. Loud music. Taylor Swift music.
