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CHAPTER TWELVE

Ingram

His words hurt. The tears welled up and spilled out of my eyes with each word he spoke. But despite my cracking heart, I could not hate him.

I had been in the wrong here and I saw it. I came to him with false courage. I should have walked away when I figured out that he was in a state much worse than I was in. But sadly, I was so desperate for his touch that I even begged for it. I pushed on and let my mind see only what I wanted to see.

Even as I stood there crying like the little girl he clearly thought I was, I couldn’t regret what had happened.

His touch was everything.

I never knew something like that could be so intimate. So sweet. So tender.

I never knew that I could take pleasure like that. He had given it to me and asked for nothing in return.

I willed myself to turn and walk away from him. He didn’t want me. I was a joke to him.

But then his whisperednosounded so broken and scared that I didn’t hesitate to turn and face him again. Briefly, I saw the flash of panic in his eyes but I didn’t understand why it was there. Before I could question it, he pulled me into his body and held onto me like he was scared I’d float away.

As I stood there and felt his body trembling for a reason I did not know, I felt something go through me.

I’d been messed with my entire life. I’d been told things that were wrong and untrue. I’d been made to do things that I felt were not right, but yet was told that it was the way.

The longer I stood there, the angrier I became.

I almost felt like I didn’t even know the man that had his arms around me. He wasn’t even the one that had held my hand when I was scared and clueless. He wasn’t the one that wrote to me while I was away.

This person— Mouse, he had become unrecognizable to me.

I saw that he was right. His words might have hurt but they were true. I was a woman holding onto little girl dreams.

Lies or no lies, I wasn’t going to be a doormat any longer.

My hands came up and rested on his chest. I was only half aware of what I was doing. Then with all my might, I pushed against him. His eyes looked pained as my body ripped out of his arms.

“No,” I said and did not even recognize my own voice.

It felt good to say that word. It felt good to mean it and stand up for myself.

“No,” I said again because I needed to hear it. I neededhimto hear it. I needed to feel that I had a voice.

He stood there, his jaw slightly slacked open as he stared down at me.

“You are right,” I told him, my back straight and my head held high. “I care deeply for a man, but that man is not standing before me now. He was only a stupid girl’s dream.”

I backed away, taking one last, long look at him. I needed to remember this man. I had to carve this image into my brain so that anytime I felt myself making excuses, I could recall this moment. I wouldn’t let him treat me like this.

I turned without another word.

And as I walked down the stairs, I shed that insecure, sheltered, docile girl.

I would bend to no one.

I would have a voice.

I would stand proud in my choices and decisions.

I took comfort in the room that Laurel showed me was mine for the night. I locked the door knowing that no one could get to me here. Then I slept like I’d been waiting to do so my entire life.