Devon stopped trying to explain and went back into her story. “I was home early from school one day. I wasn’t expecting him, but I could tell something was wrong. And it might sound strange, but I never thought he did any of these things out of anger. He did them out of love.”
“You think he held you under boiling water out of love?” Garrett asked incredulously.
Devon glared at him. “I didn’t say you would understand. The sex was not a threat. It had nothing to do with him being angry with me.”
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Keep going. It was my question. I want to hear the answer.”
Devon didn’t want to continue. She didn’t want to tell him the extent of her story. How could he ever understand what she had gone through and why she had allowed it? “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not the night for this,” she said, standing on wobbly legs.
Holy shit, how much did I drink? she wondered.
“Whoa,” he said, jumping to his feet to steady her.
She didn’t know how he was more stable than her. He had shown up drunk, and then he had proceeded to drink twice as much as her. His hands were on her hips, holding her up, as her head spun so fast that she had to close her eyes. She gripped the collar of his shirt to keep herself standing, and she felt more than heard his intake of breath.
Whoops!
“You should sit back down,” he said, guiding her back to the couch. “I’ll get you some water.”
When he returned with a glass of water, Devon took a few sips of it, thankful for the distraction. The more she talked about this story, the more she missed St. Louis, and the more she wanted to go home. Her heart ached to feel that all over again, for it to be as it once was. Maybe it could be like that again.
“Dev,” Garrett whispered, taking the drink out of her hand and placing it on the table, “what happened that day when you came home early?”
She didn’t want to recall the memories. Suppressing them was easier than reliving them. She tipped her head to the side and settled it against his shoulder. That was easier than facing him.
“That day, he came home and hit me until I was knocked unconscious.”
She definitely heard Garrett’s intake of breath that time.
“I remember waking up, lying on the floor of my bathroom. It was really cold, and I found I had been stripped nak*d. I couldn’t stop shivering, but I was careful not to move too quickly. My head was throbbing, and my body was splattered in bruises. At first, I couldn’t remember what happened, but when he walked into the bathroom, it all came back to me. I started crying from the pain and the disbelief that he would do this to me. I remember his words. ‘How could you make me do this to you?’ It was my fault. It was all my fault that it had happened.”
Garrett squeezed her knee softly. “Devon, it wasn’t your fault.”
A tear fell from her eye, and she let it roll down her cheek. “It was my fault. If only I had been better to him or if I had done more, he wouldn’t have gotten so upset.” She took a shuddering breath. “I never wanted to make him that unhappy ever again. We had greatness, you know?”
“Dev—”
“I swore I would do better and try harder. I wanted us to work. We had to work. I asked him to promise he would never do it again,” she whispered.
“But he didn’t?” Garrett asked.
“No, it happened again,” she said. “Not right away, but it did. I just couldn’t figure out how I could do any better. I was everything to him. I tried so hard to be what he needed.”
“If you think that, then why did you end up coming to Chicago?”
Devon could hear the desperation in his voice. He didn’t understand. He didn’t get what she had gone through. This was why she had never told anyone. She couldn’t break the silence only to suffer through disbelief. She couldn’t stand the thought of people judging her, or worse, people pitying her decisions. She had made the right choices for her at the time. Now, what happened if she returned…
Her heart sank at the thought she’d had every day since leaving. Would it all be as it was before? Would he do worse? Or would he realize that she was everything he needed?
“We started in this cycle that I didn’t think would ever break. He would get so angry, and I would take the brunt of it. Sometimes, I just cowered and cried until he forgave me. Other times, I would get angry and storm out. But then, I stopped getting angry. Leaving was not an option. It only made things worse. It made his anger more frequent.”
“You just kept letting this guy…hit you?” Garrett asked.
“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “I love him.”
“Dev—”
“It got worse,” she whispered. “I had to cancel classes for a week.”
“What for?”
“I could normally hide the bruises…that week I couldn’t,” she whispered, staring down at the carpet. “He never left bruises on my face again. It raised too many red flags.”
Garrett hissed through his teeth at the imagery. He didn’t say anything. What could he say? She didn’t want to look up at him and read what was clearly written on his face, so she pushed through, just wanting to get this story over with.
“But that wasn’t what made me leave,” she told him. “I had just finished my last final for the semester. When I finished, I was supposed to meet my favorite professor in his office to discuss my plans for next year. I got a text, telling me to meet him instead. I rescheduled plans with my professor and rushed to see him. I didn’t want to be late. When I got back, I should have smelled trouble. Candles were lit everywhere. There was a bottle of champagne and even rose petals.”
“That’s a sign of trouble?” Garrett asked.
Devon nodded against his shoulder. “It should have been, but I saw it as a romantic gesture. I saw it as a way to get back to the way it had been. He popped open the bottle of champagne while I stripped down for him. I thought it was going to be that kind of night. It felt like we were finally back on the right track.
“But then, he started asking questions about my professor and why I was going to see him. I told him that I had tutoring, of course, and that my professor wanted to congratulate me for a job well done this semester. It was an odd conversation. I mean, he didn’t like that I had tutoring, but that week off had put me so far behind that I had to use every opportunity to get caught up. He didn’t believe me.
“He grabbed my arm and squeezed as hard as he could, forcing me backward against the bed. He begged me to tell him the truth. I cried and cried and cried, telling him that I had told him the truth. There was nothing more for me to tell.” Devon took a deep breath and then continued.
“I felt like the bones in my arm were going to snap, but the pain evaporated when he yanked a candle off the table and held the flame to my skin. I screamed where it touched me. He said he would stop when I told him the truth. I tried to tell him that I was telling the truth, but he slapped me across the face so hard that I saw spots. He told me I was lying. Whenever the flame neared my skin, burning wax was dribbling down my body. He said that if I didn’t tell him, then I didn’t leave him any choice. I couldn’t convince him, and the pain was blinding. He moved the flames to the area, uh…just above my…” Devon pointed down to her nether region. She blushed but continued. “The feel of my flesh burning so near all those nerve endings was the most intensely painful thing I’ve ever endured, and soon, I blacked out.”
Garrett reached forward and threaded his fingers with hers. She didn’t know where it came from, but it was a sign of strength. Devon sighed and used her other hand to pull down the front of her tiny sleeping shorts.
“See,” she said, pointing at the scar right above her sensitive skin.
“Fuck,” Garrett grumbled.
Devon pulled her shorts back up, ashamed by the conversation. She had made him think she was cheating, so she had pushed him over the edge. Still, even she could see that his punishment was excessive, and her realization had spurred her to action.
He had violated her trust, the one thing she had given over to him completely without him ever having to ask. He had taken everything they’d had and torn it down brick-by-brick for his own deluded sense of control. He had beaten the trust out of her. He had ruined their sex life, ruined their relationship, and ruined her.
“When I woke up, he was gone. A couple days later, I was on the first train to Chicago.”
Chapter Eighteen - The Only Option
GARRETT DIDN’T MOVE for what felt like forever. Devon wanted to see his reaction. She wanted to know that he didn’t think any differently of her. She wanted to know a lot of things, but she wasn’t brave enough to look up at him.
She felt his heavy sigh and the shift of his body toward her. She breathed him in. Her mind was still wondering too many things. She couldn’t believe she had told her story. It had been a secret for so long. She hadn’t wanted to risk someone finding out. What would people think of her…of him? What would they do?
Her mind closed off to that thought.
“Devon,” he said finally.
He pulled her toward him and circled his big, strong arms around her. She tensed, unsure where this was coming from. Was he pitying her? She didn’t need his pity.
“I hope you see your strength the way I do.”
Strength? I ran away. I wanted to yell that at him. I’m not strong. I’m weak. I couldn’t face my fears, so I ran.
She didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t let her go, so she relaxed into his embrace, accepting it for what it was. They were both in a rough spot, separated from their lives. Devon had run, and Garrett had faced his problems head-on. Either way, it had ended with them sitting in the same room. So maybe facing her problems head-on would have turned out the same way. Or maybe she wouldn’t have ended up unconscious. Instead, she would have ended up dead.
That thought made her break the embrace. She stared forward at Garrett. She felt the tears on her cheeks, hot and uncomfortable. She hated crying, especially in front of people.
Garrett reached up and pushed her hair off her face. She sniffed as the tears fell faster from his affection. She didn’t need someone to care for her. She could take care of herself. That thought made her cry harder.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered.
His thumbs brushed under her eyes like he had done when she had woken up from her nightmare on the couch. She couldn’t stop her tears, and his help only made it worse.
She didn’t know how she had any tears left. Hadn’t she cried enough? Or were these tears of a different nature? Her throat constricted, and she coughed. She had never once thought that running away was the right thing to do. It was impulsive. It was something Hadley would do. Devon was always the rational one who wanted to work things out. She had stayed with him well past the point she should have. And for what? To be frightened and accused of things she hadn’t done? To be hit, burned, and left unconscious?