Page 59 of Too Broken to Love

“Because he’s the fucking General. He finds out everything.”

“I…” She picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re sorry. Are you fucking kidding me?” He banged his palm against the steering wheel. “The General found a video of your arrest. I just watched those assholes chase you like a fugitive and tackle you to the dirt. They smashed your cheek against the car door when they shoved you into the backseat. And Frank watched it all go down. No wonder you’re afraid of cops.” He ground his fist into his thigh. “When I come face to face with Frank⁠—"

“Wait.” Her heart stuttered. “You’re angry with him instead of me?”

He glanced at her like she’d said bluefish tasted better than striped bass. “Of course I’m angry with Frank. Not only did he watch you get brutalized by two dirty cops, he stood by and did nothing.”

“Stop. Just—” She threw out her arm. Flattening her palm on his chest, she dug her fingers into the solid muscle under his soft black sweater. She didn’t need a recap of the past. She needed to make sure she understood the present. “Do you think I’m a filthy criminal like my father?”

“What?” He blinked. “Fuck, no. I think you’re a strong, resilient, beautiful thief who stole my sanity.” He moved her hand from his sweater and threaded their fingers. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Tessa, and for what? The cops arrested you for driving away without paying for gas, not cleaning out the safe.”

“I stole a lot more than drinks and medicine between the ages of…” She slipped her fingers from his and trapped them between her thighs. “I don’t remember how old I was when Frank taught me to pickpocket and made stealing a game.”

“You were a kid. You didn’t know any better.” Hudson glanced at her as he pulled onto the north ramp for the parkway.

She lowered her lashes against the memories she was about to relive. “When I was a kid, Frank took me to elaborate adventure games every weekend. Until I was ten, I believed that they were exactly that—games. Frank organized the locations and the people involved. If I lifted the treasure from my target without getting caught, I won.”

Hudson flinched like she’d hit him. “How often did you win?”

“Every time, until I learned the truth.”

“What happened?”

“I was ten. Tired from staying up all night with my mom waiting for Frank to come home and I got sloppy. That day’s game was in the parking lot of a baseball stadium. A dad waiting in line with his kids felt me lift his wallet and called for a police officer. It clicked right away that it wasn’t a game.”

“Jesus, Tessa.”

“In the time it took me to run to the car, I knew I’d been nothing but a pawn. My mom was in the driver’s seat, whispering prayers for our safe return. That was her role. To pray for a win. I jumped in the back, crying and screaming about the cops chasing me, but she didn’t drive.”

Hudson reached for her hand.

She pulled it away. If he touched her with the potent care she should have received from her mother, she’d cry. “When we drove from Kansas to Missouri without going back to our shitty apartment, she didn’t say a word. She just prayed while Frank screamed at me for losing the game.”

He reached for her hand again and didn’t take no for an answer. Without a word, he squeezed her fingers and encouraged her to continue.

“After I realized my childhood was a scam, I refused to be his accomplice, and he refused to be my father any longer.”

“I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

She let out a tight laugh. Holding Hudson’s hand hadn’t made her cry. His sweet rage did. She swiped away a tear and sniffed. “Believe me, there were plenty of times when I wished someone would kill him. During the times he’d disappear, my mom would pick up shifts as a nurse, but her anxiety about him getting thrown in jail or killed got so bad she developed PNES.”

“Psychogenic non-epileptic seizures. I know veterans who suffer from it. How often did your mom pass out from stress overload?”

“Several times a week. It got so bad she couldn’t work and needed medication to curb her anxiety. Sometimes there wasn’t enough money to pay for everything so I…I stole again. I know I only did it to survive but…”

“You don’t sound like you believe it.” He jerked the SUV into an emergency pull-off on the highway and flipped on the hazards. The hammering of her heart drowned out the whoosh of the traffic as he threw the car in park. Gripping the wheel, knuckles white against the black leather, his jaw clamped tight enough to break. He turned to her slow and controlled, but she swayed back from the force of the icy anger in his dark, dangerous gaze.

“Listen to me, Tessa, and listen damn fucking good. Don’t ever apologize again for being the victim of child abuse.”

“Abuse.” She whispered the word she’d spent years refusing to believe applied to her. Tears pooled in her eyes, not from guilt, but from furious relief as she allowed the blame to finally shift.

He reached over and touched her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

So many answers swirled through her head in the space of a heartbeat. She landed on the truth, laughing through her tears. “Because I like when you call me a pretty little thief.”

“Pretty little thief doesn’t begin to sum up what you are, Tessa.”