“I never pressed charges,” she sobbed. “My mom asked me not to. She never fucking divorced him. She even defended him and told me that he was right—” I pulled Anna to me and held her close as she shook and cried into my shoulder, scrunching my shirt in her fists.
“I never want to be like her. I don’t want anything to do with them. That’s why I cut my family off. I don’t fucking talk to them anymore and I never will.”
I kept silent and just held her, stroking her hair and occasionally wiping her tears away. Inside, I boiled with anger, trying to envision what her step-dad looked like so that I could imagine beating him. Why the fuck were people like him allowed to exist? Allowed to terrorize and abuse innocent people like Anna? My hands itched to strangle him. Instead, I reached over to the nearby tissue box and handed her a kleenex. She noisily blew her nose and sobbed.
After a couple of minutes, she quieted and stopped shaking. She lifted her head and looked at me, inspecting my face, then wrapped her arms around my neck, her voice heartbreakingly raw as she said, “I’m so glad you’re not an asshole.”
I held her close and stroked her back. Me too.
Chapter 17
-Anna-
I wasn’t sure how Ian would react to my past. He’d finished prepping the lasagna, then sat there quietly, not judging, not trying to fix anything, just listening to my story. He held me at the end and just let me cry onto his shoulder.
I’d found myself a wonderful human being.
“Thanks for telling me,” he finally said, kissing my hair. I nestled my head deeper into the crook of his neck.
“Thanks for listening. And for not saying anything.” I really appreciated that he’d just let me talk, like I’d asked him to. It would have been difficult for me to tell the whole story, had he interrupted me. For that reason, I hadn’t even tried with my exes. All Asher knew was that I didn’t talk to my family anymore. He hadn’t cared about the rest, and likely wouldn’t have fully understood.
With Ian...I saw the sympathetic looks he gave, his nods of understanding when I explained what my family was like. The fear of shame, the paramount importance of appearances. He knew.
I loved that I could share my burden with him.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “you’re nothing like your mom. You’re passionate and independent and I—”
“Shhh.” I put a finger on his lips. “You don’t have to tell me that stuff. I know that I’m not as strong and independent as I want to be. I’m trying, but it’s hard, and it really triggers me when people point out that I’m doing a shit job of it. I just...wanted you to understand. Like why I find it hard to depend on people. And why I don’t like feeling trapped.”
He kissed my hand. “And why you don’t date Asian guys.”
I kissed his neck. “Why I didn’t date Asian guys.”
We turned our heads and kissed each other. Then kept kissing, and kissing, until the oven beeped and the lasagna was ready.
I’d never tasted one better.
◆◆◆
That night, while we lay cuddling in bed, I asked him, “So how did Cassie end up telling you about me?”
Ian massaged my scalp with his magical fingers. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. “I had just broken up with my girlfriend at the time and she was going through her roster of female friends to set me up with. And I wasn’t lying—she really did say that you’d be perfect for me, except for the No Asian guys thing.” He kissed my hair. “Guess she was right.”
I snuggled closer to him and drew circles with my fingers on his smooth pecs. Totally hairless. I filled my lungs with him, practically snorting from his skin, then sighed contentedly. His scent, once so aggravating, was now so soothing, so utterly addicting.
“She’s a really good friend,” Ian commented, oblivious to my huffing.
“Yeah, she is. I’m really lucky to have her.” I rubbed my nose along his bristly jaw. It was the perfect scratching post.
“No, I’m really lucky that she brought us together.”
“Yes, you’re really lucky.” I laughed and kissed his cheek, shifting my leg up onto his hips. As usual, his penis was rigid and ready beneath my thigh. I giggled. It was still so gratifying to witness my effect on him.
Maybe he’d get even luckier tonight.
I traced my fingers along the ridges and valleys of his abs, sighing. “Mmm, your abs are so hot. Like a sexy ice cube tray.”
He snickered. “Thanks?”
“Or like...a sexy lobster tail.” He laughed as I lowered my head and planted kisses in the valley between his pecs, all the way down to his belly button.
I stopped and lifted my head, inspired. “No! I know. It’s like sexy day-old challah bread.” I licked his abs as if tasting the golden egg wash crust. “I want to turn you into bread pudding and eat you up.”
He jerked his knees and rolled onto his side, guffawing. “Is that how you like your dirty talk? Are you still hungry or—”
I pushed him back down and shut him up with a long, tender kiss. “There’s just something about you that makes me want you in my mouth.”
His eyes danced with amusement. “Same here.” He lifted his hands to my chest and kneaded my breasts through my oversized sleeping shirt. “I want to...juice your overripe oranges.”
I struggled to keep my face straight, fighting both laughter
