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I nod. “So, it was good until it wasn’t?”
“I don’t know. I’ve spent a lot of years grieving my marriage, and sometimes I wonder if I’m not actually grieving her but rather the time I wasted on her.”
I bring in my brows. “I need more than that.”
A small smile pulls at his lips. “I think I married her because I felt so hollow after my parents died. I think she took advantage since I was up-and-coming, just signed one hell of a deal, then got my inheritance. I’m not saying she didn’t love me. I think at one point she did, but she went from living with her ma and siblings to me, we didn’t have sex until our wedding night, and I mean…you’ve gotten a taste of what I like,” he says with a wink, and I grin. “She always said I was too much. Too much in bed, touching her too much, I asked too many questions. I don’t think I ever realized it until we were at the end that I wasn’t her type.”
“You’re not too much, Riggs.” His eyes shine for me, and my heart trips over itself. “But that’s young love. Either you grow together, or you grow apart.”
He searches my eyes with his. “That’s a very adult comment for a wee lass.”
I shoot him a glare. “Excuse you—I’m your baby girl.”
He rubs my knuckles. “You are.”
I nod in agreement as I shrug. “I grew up with four older sisters who were more my moms than my sisters. I learned a lot from books they’d read me, and the situation in which I grew up didn’t really allow for me to be a kid.”
His brows pull together. “I always wondered where your parents were.”
“Nowhere near us, thank God,” I mutter, shaking my head. “So, don’t judge me, okay?”
He gives me a dry look. “Really?”
I laugh nervously. “Really, this is going to sound like a very bad made-for-TV story.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
I roll my eyes before taking a deep breath. I’ve never told a guy this, but I want to tell Riggs. “My sisters and I grew up in a cult, like a real one where we all lived in the back of some field and didn’t have TV or internet.” I pause for his reaction, but he is listening intently. “We weren’t allowed to wear anything but dresses and never show more skin than our faces and hands. My sisters taught me to read, write, and sing my ABCs. I was reading Jane Austen books when I was nine, and only because Austen would save whatever little money she could to buy them for us.”
“So basically, you guys were Amish?”
I ponder that, and then I shake my head. “Eh, maybe 50 Shades of Amish, but not in the even vaguely consensual way like the book.”
He cocks his head. “What?”
“Women were property to the men of New Beginnings. When the leader decided he wanted my mom as his wife, he killed my dad and saidGod told him to do it.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Was nowhere to be seen in New Beginnings,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. “I watched my sisters be abused and raped, forced into marriage. I cleaned their wounds when they’d get beaten up. It was mostly Louisa and Elliot since they don’t know how to shut up, but Austen and Eliza were hurt just as badly, in different ways.”
“Did they hurt you?”
I squeeze his hand. “Thankfully, I didn’t go through what my sisters did. My sisters hid me a lot and always made excuses, saying I was sick or doing homework, so no one really got a good look at me until I left. It doesn’t mean I left unscathed, but we all got out.”
“What do you mean?”
I press my lips together and decide I’m not ready to talk about that. “I don’t know that I want to share that yet.”
His eyes turn soft, and he strokes my knuckles with his thumb. “I’m here when you are.”
I give him a small smile, and then he says, “I’m thankful they didn’t hurt you.”
I shrug, and I hate the guilt I feel that my sisters weren’t so fortunate. “They tried. And the day I made a run for it to the end of the road, where my sisters and Peepaw waited, a guy tried to steal me. But I kicked him in the balls and ran like the devil was chasing me. In a way, he was.”
When I look up at Riggs, his eyes are shining with pride, but I do see a bit of rage in that dark-chocolate gaze. “You keep impressing me, Clara McDavid.”
I smile proudly, brushing my hair off my shoulders like the bad bitch I am. “I know. I’m pretty amazing.”
