I don’t follow the leap in logic, but the confidence in his voice unnerves me enough to let another piece of the truth slip free. “It was never like that with him…”
He frowns and shoots me a searching glance. “It was about control, then. Getting inside your head. Directing your every move. That’s what he got off on.”
“It wasn’t like that, either,” I whisper.
Though he’s not far off. I’ve spent my whole life growing accustomed to Branden’s control. One mantra above all was drilled into my head like a creed. I owed him.
“Our… My parents never really looked out for me,” I admit, stretching out onto my back beside him. “They were successful. We were wealthy. But my mom had her issues, and she wasn’t around much when I was growing up. My dad was overwhelmed and looked to other relationships to cope. Branden was the one left to look out for me.” It sounds strange when said out loud. Dysfunctional. In reality, it was all we knew. “One day… I think I must have been five. I ran out into the street and was almost hit by a car. The fallout was bad. The police were called. They couldn’t find my parents. Bran was twelve, and it hit him hard. Things looked worse than they were. The aftermath could have ruined his life.”
“He doesn’t sound like your boyfriend,” Rafe says. Strangely, he doesn’t accuse me of lying outright. His tone carefully straddles the line between confusion and irritation, leaving it entirely up to me whether or not to come clean.
But there’s no point in denying it anymore.
“He’s not. Bran is my brother,” I confess, too weary to even see how that piece of information lands. I stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts like a sieve, leaking all of the dark memories I’ve struggled to suppress.
“So what? Your parents got busted for neglect. Why the fuck is that your problem?”
I hesitate to answer, squeezing my eyes shut against the past. “Because… I wasn’t wearing any clothes.” The silence that falls in the wake of those words is deafening. The only way to combat the awkwardness is to keep talking. “And I don’t remember what I said when the police came, but they were concerned enough to start an investigation. I shouldn’t have to say what kind.”
“Shit,” Rafe says.
I nod in agreement. “All of that because of me.” It always surprises me how deep the guilt goes. How a child’s innocent actions could lead to a whirlwind of chaos.
“Bran had to go see a child psychologist after that because of me. I was almost put into foster care. My parents were mortified. I could have ruined his life—”
“Did he touch you?” Rafe demands.
I flinch at how earnestly he asks that question. “No! Not like that. Not—”
“You were a kid.” His anger startles me. I open my eyes to find him tense, his eyes darker than ever. “A kid who ran out of your house naked.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I insist, shaking my head. “I was probably playing a game or something. I barely even remember—”
“And how many years later and the bastard beats you. He hides a camera in your fucking room. Shit, he watched you naked!”
I cringe. “Stop making it sound like…”
“Like what? Like he may have molested you? That he’s still abusing you. Trust me, it’s not that hard to spell it out.”
I roll onto my side as if shielding my body from view can protect from his judgment. “Stop!”
But he’s too riled. Hissing, he brandishes a fist at nothing, his eyes flashing. “And your parents? They let you go around believing that shit? That you owe him because of what he did?”
“It’s not that simple,” I insist.
“Bullshit!” He strikes the mattress so hard I jump. “The fuck it’s not. And what about that story you wrote, huh? Deceiver? What the fuck is that about? Did he hurt someone in front of you?”
“Please stop,” I plead as my voice breaks. “I’ve never told anyone this.”
Because I know how it sounds—and I know what dark turn this story eventually takes.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I add. “To be chained to someone, and you can’t explain why. But it’s what it is.”
“Is it?” he snarls. “Why the fuck did you have a heart after his name in your phone then. Huh?”
I feel my cheeks flame as I choke out the answer, “Because it was one way to remind myself that despite everything he’s done… I shouldn’t hate him. I can’t hate him.”
“Fuck…” Rafe sighs, and some of the tension drains from his muscles. Judging from his tight expression, those words resonated with him more than I expected. Finally, he cocks his head at me, his gaze focused. “You said he tracked your phone?”
I nod, alarmed as he stands and crosses to his dresser, still naked. The dragon on his back ripples, coming to life as he wrenches open a drawer.
“Well, let’s give the fucker something to follow.” He tosses me a wad of fabric—another shirt. “Put it on,” he demands while stepping into a pair of jeans. By the time I remember how to move, he’s already storming into the living room. He grabs my phone from the coffee table and marches for the door, snatching something from a small hook hanging beside it on his way out.
“Wait!” I scramble into my sandals, grab my bag, and follow. “Where are you going?”
Rather than head for the shop's front, he exits from the back into the alley leading to the roof. This time, he heads to the street opposite the shop’s entrance. It’s a quieter block, mainly sporting a row of parked cars. The black one he approaches must be his.
“Get in,” he commands before claiming the driver’s seat.
“Where are we going?” I ask, hesitating on the curb.
His answer is to slam the driver’s side door, leaving me
