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“Baby,” he whispers, an ache in his voice that sends more tears careening down my face.

“When he died, she was broken and I just wanted to help. I wanted to make her feel better so I did what I could. I started doing the dishes and trying to learn how to cook. I washed the laundry and picked up our toys. All while she laid in bed and cried.”

I shudder.

“But it wasn’t ever enough. She didn’t even notice that it was getting done at first. And when she did… she said I was doing exactly what a good daughter, a good woman should do.”

His muscles tense against me and he gently traces circles on my back with his fingertips but he doesn’t say anything.

“She was so angry,” I continue. “She said I took him from her. She said now that he was dead, she couldn’t ever get that love back and that I needed to be useful to make up for that.”

“What the fuck?” he hisses, holding me tighter. “You did not need to earn your dad’s love, Lennon.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t need to earn it. I needed to repay her for it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

I shrug. “Maybe but that’s the way it was.”

“I need to have a chat with your fucking mom,” he growls and I let out a surprised laugh, tipping my head back to look at him.

“Sure. And let me talk to your dad while we’re at it.”

Darkness creeps across his face. “Absolutely fucking not. I won’t ever let that fucker get within five states of you.”

“Okay, then,” I say, dropping my head again and leaning into him closing my eyes. “I guess meeting the parents are off the table then.”

“Unquestionably. Is there more?”

I sigh. “She started dating again when I was ten and with each new man she brought in to mine and my sister’s life, she would change. Mold herself to match their personalities. It was a strange thing to watch.”

“On our first date,” he says, his voice taking on a hard edge as he begins running his fingers through my hair again. It feels good and I let out a hum, trying to keep myself grounded because I know where he is going with this. “You mentioned some of them touching you…’

“Yeah,” I answer, trying to block those things out of my mind.

“Tell me about them?”

“Why, Dalton?” I ask, squeezing my eyes shut tighter like I can somehow unlike those things. His arms tighten around me and he plants a kiss on top of my head.

“I just want to know you, baby.”

Fuck.

I can’t say that I don’t understand after everything he laid at my feet back in my apartment.

I suck in a breath. “The first one was I was thirteen. My mother never liked her boyfriends to pay much attention to me. I’d hear her fighting with them about keep their eyes on her but John, the first one, never paid me any attention until one afternoon when I was climbing the counters to get things off the top shelf of the cupboard and then… he was just there.”

Dalton’s breathing is ragged and his hold on me is tight but he doesn’t say a word.

“He came up behind me while I was kneeling on the counter and slid his hand between my legs just above my knee. I yelped… because he startled me… and my mom came into the kitchen.”

With my eyes closed, I can still remember the look on her face.

The shock.

The outrage.

And then the blame.