Page 36 of Be With Me


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Sighing, I watched Lightning go for the last of the oats. “What he said was true.”

“No—”

“It is true. I was one of those ‘stupid girls’ who let a guy beat on her.” I laughed, but the sound was grating on my ears. “And I almost ruined my brother’s life because I allowed the situation to get to that point. Trust me, I know.”

“You don’t know shit, apparently.” Jase took my hand in his, brushing the dust from the oats off it. “You did not almost ruin your brother’s life. He made that decision to go after that punk ass. Not you. And I can’t really blame him for doing so. If it had been me, I would’ve put that motherfucker into the ground.”

My gaze swung to him sharply, and all I saw was honesty in his gunmetal eyes. “No. You wouldn’t have, Jase.”

His brows rose. “Uh, yeah, I would’ve. And you know what, that’s wrong as shit, but that would’ve been my choice. Just like it was Cam’s. It is not and never has been your fault. No matter what happened between you and that dick”—he spat the word—“what happened on Thanksgiving is not your fault.”

I stared into his eyes and—oh God—I wanted to believe him. The weight of that nasty guilt was worse than the weight of a future gone to shit. Some of the responsibility lessened, though. That much was true, but I ducked my gaze, following Lightning’s retreat. With the lack of attention, the horse was off chasing Thunder.

Jase still held my hand, his fingers slipping around my wrist. “And you weren’t stupid.”

I bit out a laugh as I lifted my gaze. “Okay. Why are you telling me all this? Why are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Because it’s true.” His lips thinned as a troubled look settled into his striking features. “You were how old when you started dating that guy?”

I shrugged a shoulder.

“How old, Tess?” Determination filled his tone.

Shaking my head, I tried to pull my hand free, but he held on. The whole conversation made me want to crawl under the thick and wide piles of hay behind us. “I was fourteen when we started dating—the summer before my freshman year. Happy with that answer?”

He didn’t look happy. “You were young.”

My fingers curled helplessly inward. “I was, but he . . .”

“He didn’t hit you then?” Jase said it so bluntly that I flinched. The lines softened around his mouth. “When did he first hit you?”

It was easy to remember. The memory was all too fresh in my mind. “I’d just turned sixteen. I stepped on his new Nikes accidentally.”

Jase looked away. A muscle ticked along his jaw. Nearly ten months passed between the first time Jeremy hit me and the last time. Ten months of keeping it secret, of hiding the bruises, and of wondering what I had been doing to deserve it.

Ten months I never, ever wanted to relive.

“Even at sixteen, you were young. You’re still young,” he said finally, his voice even, but tight. “I can’t even imagine what you were going through, but you were just a kid, Tess. You weren’t stupid. You were scared.”

The knot came out of nowhere, filling my throat. My voice was hoarse when I spoke. “I thought it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” His eyes flashed an intense silver. “Please tell me you know it was not your fault.”

“I do now.” Blinking rapidly, I cleared my throat. “What he did wasn’t my fault, but my silence really didn’t help my case.”

“Tess—”

“I get what you’re saying, but I should’ve told someone. You can’t argue that. Silence is not a fucking virtue. It’s a disease—a cancer that eats away at you and fucks with your head. I know that now. Not then and . . .” I trailed off, shaking my head as I drew in a stunted breath. I thought of Debbie in that moment. “And, well, things are different now.”

“They are, but you weren’t stupid and it wasn’t your fault then. And because I say so, that’s the way it is. End of discussion.”

I arched a brow. “End of discussion?”

He nodded as his lips curled up on one corner. “Yep. What I say goes.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

The grin grew as he tugged gently on my arm. His eyes lightened to a soft gray. “Do not doubt my authority.”

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