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“I’m sorry that I wake up everybody in the house.”

“It just gives everybody a chance to take a piss. It’s all good.”

Leila laughed a little, which she knew was Linc’s hope. He tucked her back under the covers and pulled her down so her head was resting on his chest.

“When this settles, you’re going to see someone, aren’t you?”

Leila gave another small laugh.

“That was tough for you, wasn’t it? Asking instead of telling.”

Linc cupped the back of her head. “Yes, it was. I just want to take care of the women in my life. I learned early on that life can be ugly. I’ll always want to protect you from the ugly and make sure you’re safe.”

Leila heard the hurt in his voice. “It sounds like you have a hot button that is as bad as mine where I don’t like being told what to do. Asked is fine. Told, not so much.”

“I’m going to do my best not to dictate to you,” Linc promised.

“Maybe if I knew why you are so intent on keeping me safe and protected, I could handle it better when you end up trying to tell me what to do. Can you do that?”

She felt his heart rate increase and knew that whatever he was going to say would be bad.

“What’s your first memory as a kid?” Linc asked her.

“Easy. I was on top of a horse with my dad. I felt like I was as high as the sky. I love horses to this day.”

“That’s a wonderful memory.” Linc placed a kiss on the top of her head. “My very first memory was mom lying in the upstairs hallway, crying. My dad was towering over her, yelling something, then he picked her up by the scruff of her neck and hit her in the stomach and she dropped to the floor again. When he pounded his feet down to his bedroom, I sneaked down the hall to see what was wrong with her. When I tried to wake her up, she told me she was resting, and I needed to go back to my room.”

“I spent the first six years of my life going to my room, as my dad used my mom as a punching bag.”

Linc paused, and Leila looked up at him through her lashes. She could see he was thinking, and it didn’t look like he was done with the story.

“Another memory was when I was in school. There was a policeman who talked to our class who told us they were there to help us. If there was something that our moms or dads couldn’t help us with, and somebody was in danger, we should call 911. I remember that school day really well.”

Again, he paused.

Leila prayed she wasn’t tensing up. If he felt she was afraid he’d stop talking. She did her best just to continue with the languid circles on his chest. Instead of a kiss, she licked his nipple. He gave her a quick squeeze.

“The next time I heard my mom scream and moan for my dad to stop, I snuck down to the kitchen and stepped up onto a chair to get to the phone on the wall. I called 911. I was scared shitless. I knew if he saw me he might even whale on me for the first time, and he’d hit Mom even worse. I remember thinking that if I called 911, that same cop from school would show up.”

This time, Leila didn’t care if she was obvious, if he felt her empathy. She wrapped her arm around him and pulled him closer. He cupped her ass and arranged it so that their bodies pressed together in the way they liked.

He still said nothing more.

“Did the police arrive?” she finally asked.

“Yeah. I opened my bedroom window and listened to my dad lie to one cop, and then I listened to my mom swear my dad had never abused her. He was smart, that fucking bastard. He aimed for the stomach, sides, thighs. Places that didn’t leave marks that people might notice. Since she would not press charges, they left.”

Leila felt herself tense up. She knew the story was going to get worse. For what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only two to three minutes, Linc said nothing.

“Linc?”

He gave a heavy sigh. “After the cops were gone, he marched into my bedroom, yelling that he knew I’d called the cops. To this day, I can’t understand the psyche of a man who would beat on women and children. But there he was, whaling away on me and when my mom tries to stop him, he hits her so hard she lands against the wall.”

Linc took a deep breath. He looked down at Leila and saw a tear on her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. “We’re in the homestretch, baby. You ready for the end?”

Leila nodded.

“While my dad is beating me with one of his belts, my mom must have got the pistol that was in the house, because he stops beating me. He gets up, and I roll to the floor. He’s telling her not to do it. And then I hear a roar, and I pass out.”