Page 85 of Trove’s Purpose

But never Chee.

Chee understood the drive people had to kill, even despite what others said was right or wrong, because she’d seen it play out in front of her face.

“My dad grabbed a knife. My uncle grabbed the pot of boiling water off the stove. I ran to dad, trying to push him out of the way. Trying to save him. Stupid, now, in hindsight, but that’s what eleven-year-old me chose to do. The water hit him in the arm. It hit me in the face.” She touched the scar that marked her. The one she wore with such pride because her father had a matching one. One that proved how much she was loved. How strong she was. How much bravery she had to finally cry out for help.

“The burn didn’t stop dad from stabbing him. My uncle screamed and cried until he choked on his own blood. My dad didn’t stop until he wasn’t moving. And honestly, I barely remember the pain. I remember dad hugging me though. I remember him grabbing me up in his arms. I remember him carrying me out of the house and running to his car. He took me to the hospital, and he called mom to come meet him there. And only once she was with me did he call the cops and tell them that his brother was dead in our house. That he did it. And he had no shame about it either.”

“Nor should he,” Trove growled approvingly, looking at her scar with new admiration. His voice was rough but filled with pride. “That was the right thing he did.”

Chee beamed. “Thanks. I agree. That’s why I won’t let anyone remove this scar though, now that I have the chance. So long as dad has his scar, I’m going to have mine to match. I’m honored to wear it.”

“You should be.”

“Right? Took a lot of therapy to get there though,” she admitted with a smiling grimace. “I spent most of my teenage years being angry and a shut in and lashing out. My parents loved me through it. But it wasn’t easy healing from all that. And it wasn’t easy getting to a place where I can talk about it either.”

And just like that, she brought it back to him. Trove stilled as he realized where she had led him. And she smiled.

“All that to say,” she said gently, “if your tongue is still locked up, I get it. If you can’t talk about it, I understand. You can take your time. I’m willing to listen. Don’t try to force it. Let it come whenever you feel like it can. Even if it only comes in pieces. Even if you have trouble saying it all directly. Just don’t run away from me. Okay?”

Trove stared at her for a long moment. Not saying anything. Not like he was trying to, but like he was just letting her words sink in.

Chee smiled and made to stand. It was her room, but she was going to leave first. Give him whatever time he needed to gather himself. She wouldn’t push him to do anything more than listen.

However, as she turned-

“No one ever heard me scream.”

Chapter 27

Trove

His mate was so brave. So strong. How she managed to tell her story and keep her gaze on him he couldn’t imagine. His eyes were locked on the wall, unable to glance her way. Even his upper eye couldn’t look at her as it usually wanted to do.

He could barely see her starting to walk away, and he knew she was giving him space, giving him time, and he appreciated her for it. He adored how thoughtful she was. How she wasn’t going to force him to talk.

Maybe that was why he could unlock his tongue. Maybe the desire to bring her back, to not be away from her, was what finally dragged the words from him. But it still somehow sounded like someone else speaking when he said-

“No one ever heard me scream.”

Chee stopped halfway across the room and turned back. His guts twisted up, and he was nauseated in the wake of the confession.

But his mate was strong and brave enough to talk to him. Surely, he could do the same for her. He could give her the same thing she gave him.

It wasn’t easy though. His tongue may have unlocked, but it was still heavy, his guts still churning and rioting, his blood freezing in his veins. He didn’t understand. Talking was so easy. So, why did it take so much effort to gather his rushing thoughts together into something comprehensible? Into something that explained a past that haunted his nightmares to this day?

“It was my aunt,” he finally managed to say, building from her story. From her strength. “I don’t remember when it started. I just know I was young. Too young. She used me like I was a toy, and it didn’t matter if my body was too immature to respond like a grown male’s. That wasn’t the point. She didn’t need my cock to get what she wanted from me. And it didn’t matter if I screamed, if I cried, if I begged her to stop, because it was her… and it was my mother.”

He felt Chee’s gaze. He felt a hard weight in his chest, like a stone where his heart should be. He didn’t know if he’d say it was getting easier to keep talking, but it wasn’t as hard to find the words. They were just there, rushing up like sickness, burning and sticky in his throat.

“The male who sired me was not my mother’s mate. By my people’s beliefs, that meant he wasn’t actually my father. He didn’t have any part in raising me. Our culture demands he give my mother monetary support for me only until she finds her mate, who would then take over as my father. I never met the male. I don’t care to either. But that meant I was raised by my mother and aunt alone. It was just the three of us in that house. In that place. In that…”

His voice broke and he clenched his jaw and eyes shut tight. It was weird how they were fighting to emerge and struggling to come together at the same time.

He heard Chee move, and for a moment he thought she was coming towards him. Maybe to offer him comfort. To touch him…

His skin chilled at the thought. He was going to be sick.

But no. He heard her weight sink back onto the side of the bed. She had gone back to her spot. She was waiting. Listening. She wasn’t touching him.