Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
His eyes squeeze shut when I grab his arms and get in his face.
“Talk to me. Please, Dylan.” Then I shake my head. “Shit. Or don’t. I’m sorry. It’s too early to be pressing, probably. We barely know each other and—”
“Don’t say that,” he cuts in sharply and the next second his hands are on my face and his eyes are searching mine. “Don’t you dare say that. I know you, Miranda Rose. I see you. I see the you that you don’t let anyone else see and I know that’s a fucking privileged.”
“Dylan—”
“No, let me finish.” He drops his forehead to mine, his eyes closing again briefly as he nuzzles against me. “I know you, Miranda. But I’m terrified for you to know me. I’m terrified you’ll be afraid of what you see,” he finishes in the barest whisper.
I’m shaking my head before he even finishes, though. “No. No, Dylan. I’m not afraid of you. Don’t you get that?” The only thing that scares me is how much I need him, especially considering how short a time I’ve known him. He’s a drug I’m quickly becoming addicted to.
But he gives a violent shake of his head and pulls away from me. “That’s because you don’t know—”
“Then tell me!”
When he turns back to me, there’s a haunted look in his eye. And then he nods. “All right. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you because I’m not strong enough to stay away but Miranda, you should make me. And soon you’ll know why.”
I swallow hard, all the sudden not sure if I actually want to know.
But he’s determined now, I can see it. There’s an almost masochistic gleam in his eye as he sits on the bed and starts to talk. He wants to tell this story to hurt himself and drive me away and I pray that it doesn’t.
“First of all, you need to know that my father was a violent man. He regularly beat and raped my mother.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
His voice is monotone as he stares at the wall and continues, “I never understood why my mother stayed.” His brow scrunches, like even now he’s confused. He shakes his head. “And to this day, it’s something I’ll never forgive her for.”
I blink at the raw bitterness in his voice.
“She died of cancer two years ago but I never spoke to her for the last six years of her life. Not even when she got sick.”
A chill goes down my spine at how cold his tone is. Is that what he thinks about all abuse victims? He blames them for staying?
Would he blame me for the two years I stayed with Bryce? For all the things I let him do to me?
“But if she was the one who was getting abused—”
He shakes his head and looks toward me. “I blame her for not leaving him because she never even tried to get my brother and sister out of that house. Especially my sister. Chloe.”
Chloe.
Oh God.
He must see that I’m connecting the dots because his jaw clenches and he nods.
“I don’t know how many years my father was sexually abusing my sister before I walked in on them one day six years ago.”
My hand claps over my mouth.
“What’s fucking hilarious is I thought I’d protected her and my brother Darren, by getting them out of the house whenever Dad was pulling his bullshit. I thought I was shielding them from it. When I moved away to the east coast for college, I told myself they’d be fine because Dad had just had a heart attack. He was weak afterwards and Dare and Chloe were in high school, almost out of the house. I told myself they’d be fine, that I’d protected them from the worst of it.”
Dylan walks to the window and slams his palms down on the windowsill. “So fucking stupid. Dad recovered in six months. The truth was I just didn’t want the responsibility of them anymore. I abandoned my sister to that monster.”
Neither of us says anything for a long moment. And I think about what he said in his sleep until finally I ask, voice shaking, “What happened after you found…” Oh God, I can’t imagine walking in on that. “Did you kill him?”
I wouldn’t blame him, but he shakes his head.
“I gave him a beating, but it was more important to get Chloe out of there. She’d been through enough. He had another heart attack a few months later and died so at least the evil fuck is gone now.”
“And Chloe? Is she okay? Now, I mean?”
He tells me about moving her to Austin. “She started out going to community college and eventually transferred to UT. Now she’s a music therapist and sometimes she publishes poetry in literary magazines.”
He looks so proud when he talks about her and I can see she’s the only bright light in this terrible story.