Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Nope,” she agrees with a bitter edge. “So I was trying to discover my sexuality and craved male attention more than I should have.” She drops her gaze to her lap. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”
“I want to know you,” I say.
She blows out an irritated breath. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
“Believe me, I understand.” I’m not the shy, gullible teenager I once was, either.
“So, I thought I was so adventurous and liberated.” She curls her fingers into air quotes to go along with the sarcastic tone. “Game for anything and everything, because that’s what boys like, right?”
She’s not really asking for an answer, so I wisely keep my mouth shut.
“All I did was attract a weirdo who wanted to hurt me so he could get off.”
I blink and stare at her. “What?”
“Sick asshole. He called knife play his kink. I thought that was so cool and edgy.” She curls her lip in disgust. “He swore the endorphins would be the best orgasm ever. It was not.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
I have a feeling I won’t like the answer to my next question. “How old was he?”
She glances away. “Twenty-eight. But we met when I was seventeen. I didn’t realize…Well, it doesn’t matter now.”
Fury bubbles through my blood. “Tell me the rest.”
“He gave me a ‘safeword,’ then got pissed when I used it.” She touches her neck. “Threatened to kill me if I didn’t stop screaming.”
This is so much worse than I expected. “How’d you get away from him?”
Her lips twist into a mixture of sadness and maniacal glee. “Do you really want to know?” she asks in a low, conspiratorial tone.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“I had this lamp on my bedside table. Someone gave it to me when I was a kid.” She holds out her hand, curling it like she’s about to pitch a softball. “This pretty, stained glass turtle sitting on a heavy brass base shaped like a log or flowers or something.” Fear seems to freeze her in place for a few seconds.
I wait for her to continue.
“He had the knife at my neck. I reached over, desperate for anything to get him off of me.” She blows out a sharp breath as if shaking off lingering wisps of the past.
“My fingers encountered the lamp first.” She swings her arm in a wild arc. “Bam! Nailed him right in the side of the head.”
I release the breath I’d been holding since she mentioned the lamp. “Good job. That could’ve gone badly. Enraged him even more.”
“It was instinct. I was afraid he’d kill me.”
I squeeze her tight and kiss her cheek. “You’re incredibly brave.”
“Incredibly dumb,” she corrects.
“You were young and open to being influenced by someone older maybe, but not dumb.” The heat of conviction flows through my words, and I hope she takes them to heart.
“Dex?” She tilts her head back so she can see my face. “I haven’t told someone I’m seeing that story in a very long time.”
Why does that hot spike of jealousy poke me in the ribs every time she alludes to anyone else ever being in her life?
What she said sinks in. “Why?”
“Because the last guy I told—someone I was talking to online—I wanted him to understand why I was a little hesitant to meet up in person. And he was way too interested in poking at my trauma. It was disturbing how excited the story made him. Then he told me it was my own fault.”
What the fuck? “I hope you told him to fuck off.”
“Even better. I blocked him. Deleted myself from all the dating apps. Locked down my social media. Done. All those little red flags that had jumped out at me before, I finally learned to recognize. I listened to that inner voice screaming danger. And instead of doing the whole, maybe you misunderstood, give him a chance bullshit, I ghosted his creepy ass. Poof.” She flicks her fingers in the air like she’s tossing a pinch of glitter.
“Good. He didn’t deserve an explanation.” A bullet to the kneecaps, maybe, but not an explanation.
“By then I realized I had no business trying to date. Then my parents died…” Her voice trails off into sadness.
After a few seconds of silence, she taps her forehead. “I wanted to get right in the head. Be smarter. Before I let anyone in here.” She taps her chest.
Our pasts might be different, but the results share things in common. “You’re incredibly brave and smart.” I kiss her temple. “A lot of people keep repeating the same pattern over and over, expecting a different outcome.”
“Aunt Kimmy helped.” Her mouth curves into a fond smile. “She was a badass who didn’t take shit from anyone.”
“You definitely take after her.”
“I hope so. Before Libby came along, I used to spend my summers with Aunt Kimmy. I loved being around her so much.” She lets out a fond sigh. “She had men swarming around her like bees, begging her to marry them. But she always said it wasn’t worth ruining her peace.” She tilts her head as if remembering another important detail. “Funny, how all those men disappeared once she got sick.”