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Her eyes widened. Ancient dreams, hopes, visions of a family, a life filled with love and laughter, noise and pleasure, slammed into her. She squeezed the hand that held hers.
“I love you,” he said, simply. “I just wanted you to know.” And he dropped his hands from her, and took a step back, waited a moment, then nodded, once, before turning and starting to walk away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?” She muttered, moving after him quickly, grabbing his arm to stop him. He looked down at her, frowning. “Where are you going?”
“I didn’t come here with any expectation,” he reminded her. “I just wanted to tell you how I feel.”
“Don’t you care about how I feel?”
He looked genuinely confused. “You hate me. You have every right to hate me. I fully understand that. I was simply hoping that if you understood why I did what I did, you might one day hate me a little less. I’d prefer to think of you like that if I’m honest. Not hating me, but rather…” He didn’t finish the sentence because she shoved at his chest, emotions bubbling up inside of her.
“That’s not fair,” she said, crossing her arms then. “You don’t get to show up and monologue away at me then leave.”
“Monologue?” he asked, a half-smile lifting one side of his lips before he seemed to remember where they were and what they were arguing about, and his smile dropped completely. “What would you like to say?”
“Well, I’d like a chance to explain, too,” she said, knowing it was the right thing to do. Knowing he needed to understand all of her scars, before this went any further. “But it’s freezing, and I’m not exactly dressed for this. Come inside a moment.”
He looked towards the house as if he’d seen a ghost. She understood why. These houses would all be knocked down soon, and that was his doing. He’d taken something that could have been beautiful and destroyed it. It wasn’t the first time, but it was likely the first time he’d come face to face with the fallout of that choice.
“Come inside,” she challenged, reaching down and linking their hands once more. He looked down at them, perhaps seeing what she did: the contrast in skin, strength, size, and yet the perfect complement they made, because he began to walk beside her, up the steps, across the porch, and into the house. She didn’t want to think about what it looked like through him—ravaged by her packing, with the furniture moved to show just how faded and dated the walls had become.
“Maddie—,”
But she cut him off. “It’s my turn.” She dropped his hand so she could close the front door and shivered a little as she moved deeper into the house. “I have forgotten so much of my childhood. I saw a doctor once who told me that’s normal with trauma—it’s a protective mechanism. I know it was bad. Scary. And I know that when my mother dated those men, I was terrified. Not for no reason. Because I didn’t trust her to keep me safe. I knew that it fell to me to keep both of us safe.”
She felt his anger, his condemnation, and she understood it. But she didn’t stop talking, and she didn’t give him a chance to interject.
“Then I came here, and slowly, grandma and grandpa made the world seem okay again. But you never forget those instincts, do you? I don’t trust easily either, Rocco.”
“I know that. Which makes what I did?—,”
She lifted a finger to his lips. “My turn.”
He compressed his mouth and she almost laughed, because it was so clearly not a natural state for Rocco Santoro to be in—muzzled—that it was almost ludicrous.
“I did trust someone. I did it so carefully. When I met Brock, I went so slow. S-l-o-w. Because I was wary and didn’t want to mess up. I didn’t want to make a mistake and trust the wrong person, so we dated a long time, and eventually things progressed, and I thought I loved him, and he loved me, and I started to entertain those childish dreams again, about getting married and having a family of my own.”
“With him?” Rocco demanded, a little haughtily, given his recent confession.
She nodded, appreciating that he was jealous, but needing to finish this.
“And then, one day, the scales fell from my eyes, and I realized that it wasn’t enough. I didn’t love him. Not in the way I wanted to love and be loved. I didn’t even know if I felt ‘safe’ with him, I just knew that we’d fallen into a habit of being together and I wanted more.”
Rocco expelled a slow breath.
“So, we broke up, and I thought he was okay with it, but he wasn’t.” She faltered then, searching for words, because it was so hard to admit to anyone, even Rocco. Her eyes fell to the floor between them. “He had some pictures of me. Stupid pictures I should never have let him take, and a video that he promised he’d deleted.” She heard the hiss of air between Rocco’s teeth but still didn’t look at him. “He threatened to send them to our mutual friends. To my grandfather, for God’s sake. He threatened me, so I’d go back to him.”
Rocco cursed and drew her to him then, hugging her tight to his body. “Maddie, I’m so sorry.”
Tears flooded her eyes.
“Did you go to the police?”
She nodded. “I was so ashamed.”
“Of what?” he demanded, fury in his voice. “What did you have to be ashamed of?”
