Page 31 of Sanctuary

“Were you expecting that?”

“No. I went with the gang willingly to get them away from Del. I didn’t think she’d have any idea what happened to me, so I never expected to be rescued. I kept looking for a chance to run away. Eventually I probably would have gotten it since the guy was stupid enough to think I was into him. But I hadn’t gotten an opportunity yet, and then I didn’t need one. Del and Cole found me first.”

It feels strange talking about all this with Aidan. With anyone. It’s always been something I keep locked up tight inside me, only very rarely cracking the door enough for me to even think about.

Life is about enduring. I feel like I’ve done a pretty good job of it so far. But the only way I can keep going is to not brood or stew on everything I’ve had to walk through to get to where I am right now.

So it feels dangerous. Like I’m nakedly exposed. But it’s somehow easier—more inevitable—that I tell someone who doesn’t care for me personally. Telling Del would break her. Even telling Cole would be dumping on him a burden he doesn’t deserve.

But all this won’t be a burden to Aidan. At least not one he’ll ever choose to carry.

But he’s listening. We’re in this weird little bubble right now—surrounded by an impenetrable snowstorm. He’s hearing me. And for some reason it feels better, needed, to have someone else acknowledge what life has required me to endure.

He’s silent for a long time. Until he finally asks, “Have you ever been with a man because you wanted it?”

I work my jaw, trying to land on an answer. “It depends on what you mean. Two of the guys I was with by choice—because fucking them was better than the alternative. And it sometimes felt like I wanted it. I would literally beg for that second guy to touch me, to make me come. Like I said, he liked to work me up. If you’d asked me at certain times, on certain days, I would have said I wanted to be with him.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His voice is rougher now. I’m staring up at the vaulted ceiling so I can’t see his expression.

“I know,” I say with a resigned sigh. “I know that’s not what you meant.”

“So maybe you can answer the question for real.”

Something rebellious inside me rises up in resistance at the demand in his tone. But I could have ended this conversation any time I wanted. I could have never let it get started. I’m admitting the truth of my experiences to him on purpose. Because maybe finally they need to be spoken.

And I’m not finished yet.

“No,” I blurt out over a tense lump in my throat. “No. I’ve never been with a man because I freely wanted to be.”

The raw words linger in the air of the sanctuary. Shuddering silently before they dissipate. Fade into nothing.

Aidan doesn’t reply. He’s still stretched out on his makeshift bed, and his presence feels tense, although I’m still not looking in his direction, so I can read no details in his expression or posture.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. “But I’m not some sort of victim. I made choices at every step of the way. I took control of anything I could and used every resource I had at hand, including my own body. Everyone has had to do hard things to survive. You don’t get to start thinking about me like a victim.”

“I’m not thinking about you like a victim,” he says, his tone soft and mild again. “I’m impressed.”

“Right.”

“I am. I wouldn’t have managed nearly as well in your position.”

“Oh.” I swallow, my indignation dying as quickly as it rose. “Well, I don’t think any of us really knows what we’ll do until we’re in the situations.”

“That’s true.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I told you all about me, so what about you? What’s the story of your life?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, but I feel better at the turn of the conversation. At not being the sole focus of attention.

“Did your sister not tell you?”

“She told me only what you told her. That you were a marketing executive living in Richmond at Impact.”

“That’s true.

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