AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After a moment, she rests her head again on my arm, softly tracing her fingers around my chest.
“Can I ask you a question?” she says.
“Of course.”
“Why are you so adamant about not wanting to get married or have children? What was it that stopped you?”
I’ve never given thought to this question at all. It’s just always been something in the back of my head for as long as I can remember. But as I ponder it over in my head, I realize there is a moment that this question leads to in my memory.
But am I ready to be this vulnerable with her? Emphatically, the answer is yes.
“My father hated me,” I say.
Immediately, Sadie tenses and glances those big green eyes up at me. “You don’t mean that,” she says.
“Yes,” I reply, “I do. He hated me.”
“Why would he hate you?”
“I don’t know. To be honest,” I start. “Probably because I wouldn’t fall in line. I never believed anything he preached. I was argumentative. I never had faith. Not once in my life. I don’t even know what it feels like. My brother Adam was the embodiment of faith. Caleb could fake it enough to get by, even if he didn’t believe it. I was the difficult one when it came to religion. While my father spouted scripture, I retorted with logic, and he hated that.”
“But he didn’t hate you,” she says.
“He did. On my thirteenth birthday, he beat me over the head with a Bible.”
Her head snaps up again, her averted gaze on my face. “No.”
I let out a heavy breath. “I argued with him, as I often did. And he usually responded with some authoritative discipline, often in the form of a backhand. But that day, he looked at me like he couldn’t stand me. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted me gone.”
Moisture brims in Sadie’s eyes as she touches my face. “You didn’t deserve that,” she murmurs.
“It’s okay,” I reply softly.
“No, it’s not. It’s not okay, Lucas,” she argues vehemently. She rests her elbow on the bed, propping up her head as she stares at me. “The way our parents treat us defines what we think we deserve. Your father mistreated you, and he made you believe that is what you deserve. And so you carried that with you your entire life, thinking you don’t deserve love. You don’t deserve a wife. You don’t deserve a child because your own father never demonstrated that for you.”
I’ve never felt such discomfort from words before in my life. How can something ring so true and be so painful at the same time? It makes me want to argue with her and tell her she’s wrong; this isn’t possible because I don’t like it. I don’t like the way the truth feels when it hits so hard.
I’m stroking her face softly as I gaze into her eyes. “How did you get so wise?” I ask.
“I’m not,” she replies sadly. “I just…” She forces herself to swallow. “I think my parents were always disappointed in me, and it’s taken me a long time to unlearn that.”
My brow furrows as my spine tenses, goose bumps erupting across my skin. “How could anyone be disappointed in you?” I ask.
“They just never gave me very much attention, so once I found out I could get attention from boys… Let’s just say there were some dark moments.”
I stop breathing altogether. “What kind of dark moments?” My voice has gotten lower. My muscles are taut and uncomfortable. I don’t like to think about anyone hurting her.
Her gaze bounces back and forth between my eyes for a moment as if she’s working up the courage to speak. I run my hands up and down her arms softly, squeezing her closer, making her feel as safe as possible.
“You don’t want to hear about this,” she replies before looking down. I touch her chin and lift her face until our eyes meet.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I will listen to you. No matter what,” I say.
Her eyes don’t leave my face as she breathes slowly. I think she wants to tell me whatever it is, so I wait as she works up the courage.
“I developed really early in my life,” she says. “So, I noticed when I was really young that I liked the attention. As I got older, I liked to flaunt it.”
Immediately, I don’t like where this is headed, but I try my best to train my features not to show my discomfort.
