Page 44 of Taken With You

“Why don’t you come in? No use standing out on the porch where everyone can see.” She took a few steps in, and I followed her, hoping I’d figure out what to say.

I wasn’t good at groveling. I had never done it before. But I would try.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“Because I didn’t know how.” I sighed. “And because I was a coward. I should have told you right away that I knew who you were. But the thing was, I also wanted to know who you became. And that tripped me up. I’m sorry. I’ll always be sorry for that. There aren’t enough easy explanations to explain that away.”

“I thought I had hidden it so well. Where I came from and all of that. Because I don’t like the person I was back then.” She looked at me, and I felt a kinship there. I only hoped it was enough.

“I didn’t like the person I was either.”

“I used to laugh at the girls who came in, wanting to be on a man’s arm. Because I had mine. And that’s what I was supposed to do—laugh and make fun of them and feel superior. I was a horrible person.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She let out a laugh. “I wasn’t the worst. I never hurt anyone. I was never cruel to their faces. But I wasn’t the best person either. I’ve tried to be better since I left. I’ve tried to help anywhere I could. Bury who I became over time with the club. I thought I’d paid my penance for what I did.”

She touched the scar on her wrist, and then I remembered. I recalled the scars on her hip, the ones on her ankle.

“I don’t know everything, Meadow. I never did. Yes, I know who your dad is. And at one point, I knew you were with Coby. But I don’t know it all. I was never one of those people laughing at you from behind your back. I never knew everything. I wanted you to tell me,” I said softly.

“And you didn’t. I thought it was all behind me. I didn’t think I would ever have to think about it again. But then again, I didn’t tell you anything either.”

“If I had told you what I knew, then I would have had to tell you who I was. And I was ashamed of that.”

“My parents practically sold me to Coby,” she muttered.

My hands fisted at my sides, and I growled. “I figured. That’s how the clubs do things.”

“Well, it didn’t really work out. I got away. You saw the scars. You know who Coby was. What he was like.”

“And if I could strangle him right now, I would.”

“It wouldn’t be enough. But he’s in my past. And I’ve worked with therapists over the years to try and figure out exactly who I am. I’m not just a broken shell. I’m not the person I was. Yes, I’m quiet, but that’s because I think about what to say and how I need to be the person I am, rather than the person I was. I have all the locks and the security that I can get, but I’m not as scared as I used to be. I’m not that person anymore.”

I took a step forward unconsciously, and she didn’t pull away. I was grateful. “I’m not the same person either.”

“Will you tell me who you were?”

And so I did. I told her how I joined the club, the things I did. I told her how I left. Explained the real story behind the scars on my back. I told her everything. And then she told me about Coby. About what he had done to her, what her parents still did.

And as I watched tears fall down her face, I held everything in so I wouldn’t punch something. So I wouldn’t scream in rage at my lack of control. There was nothing I could do. All I could do was listen and hope to hell that she would be okay. I didn’t think she could forgive me. I didn’t think she could look at me like she had before.

I was a reminder of a past she had tried to run from.

Like she was my reminder.

And while I knew I wanted her at my side forever, I wasn’t sure if she wanted the same from me.

“I don’t know what to do now,” she whispered.

And then I remembered that I hadn’t done the one thing I should. What Dillon had told me to do. Grovel. So, I went down to my knees in front of her.

Her eyes widened, and she looked at me like I was crazy.

“I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in long enough to see what Coby became. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

“That was never on your shoulders. Never your burden.”