Page 42 of Rox

“Isn’t that what matters?” I struggle to see his logic. I haven’t been anything but one hundred percent myself.

“Not when it makes me think the worst about the men you have in your life.” There’s a hint of disgust in his voice.

The tears I feel coming explode as I realize what he’s saying. Anger courses through my veins. “Don’t you dare accuse any of them of being the reason for my pain!”

“All I know is that your life was hard and that they raised you. What the hell could have been so hard? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Max, did it ever occur to you that I don’t talk about it because it hurts?”

“So does my pain, yet I shared it anyway.”

He did. He told me everything. Yes, he left afterward, but he opened up about emotions he stopped feeling years ago and didn’t know how to process them. Walking away allows him to figure himself out without causing unnecessary hurt. “You can never take back words you said in anger.”It’s what he told me before.

While I was upset, he let me know he was okay every day, and I was okay with that. I felt special when he told me the truth. When he allowed me to see the real him, I knew then that I meant something to him. I meant more to him than anyone else in his life. He’s only asking for the same feeling in return.

I take a breath and motion to the couch. Sitting down, I pull my knees up to my chest. He sits down at the other end, and while I’m sad because he’s so far away from me, I internally thank him because I don’t think I can tell this story while he holds me. Not yet.

“My mother dated a man before my dad came along. He did and said all the right things. And when you’re a teen mom, it’s easy to be blinded by the glitz and glamour put in front of you.” I squeeze my eyes shut as I remember my mother’s look when she told me how easily she fell for it all.

“He talked Mom into moving in with him before I was born. She made sure he wasn’t on any of the paperwork, though. She’d told me that while he came in and helped, he didn’t help make me and didn’t deserve to be listed on my birth certificate. It’s oneof those things that helped out later in life,” I smile weakly at the small victory.

“I grew up around him, but he was never my dad and never treated me like his kid. For the most part, he was nice to me. He’d make nice all the time and always took pictures. He’d take pictures of Mom and I, or just me. He claimed I grew too fast, and we had to document everything. Some shit about being able to look back one day,” I wave my hand dismissively. “He’d always make sure I was smiling. He’d tell me to be silly or have me dance around even if I didn’t want to.

I didn’t see it then, not really. I didn’t see anything wrong, but I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Anyway, I grew up in his house. He worked hard so my mother could stay home with me. He didn’t want to cover the cost of me going to school, so my mom had to teach me.

She tells me that she did the best she could, but considering I always tested higher than my age bracket, I think she did a damn good job.

I didn’t know that my lifestyle was unusual. When we went to the park, there were kids my age there with their parents. Nothing seemed out of place. That all changed soon, though.

The older I got, the more I noticed he would make a point to touch me on my shoulder or back. He’d play with my hair when we watched TV as a group. Mom was there, and she never said anything about it. She didn’t let me believe there was any danger being with him because she didn’t think there was. He would check on me every night and ensure I was tucked in even after Mom went to bed. I didn’t know it was bad until the night we left.”

“How old were you,” Max asks through clenched teeth.

“I was nine the night my mother learned what was happening.”

Max shoots up from the couch and starts pacing. He’s already assuming what happened to me. The worst images go through his mind, and I get it. I would, too.

“He never succeeded in raping me, if that’s what you’re thinking. The night my mom found out, that was the first time he tried to force himself on me. I was a smart kid, but there are still things a child doesn’t know, and what he was doing, I didn’t know.” I drop my knees and start playing with my fingertips, the nervous energy eating me up as I talk about the part of me I wanted to block out. Along with the guilt on Mom’s face the night we left and for weeks later. With every nightmare I had, I cried and clung to her, scared he was going to come back for me.

“Of course you didn’t. Why would you? You were around someone who was trusted. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know I didn’t. I don’t blame myself. It was all him.” I believe in myself now. Back then, it was more complicated. It took time, but my mom, dad, and Angel got me through everything. “Anyway, long story short, mom got me out. We met my dad shortly after, and he helped us. Then we moved here, and the end.” I rush the words out and look at him for the first time since starting this tale.

He stops pacing and turns to me, his face red, “The end? What the hell do you mean by the end? There’s no way that’s it. You’re hiding something. Just like your father, Angel, and Omen are hiding something.”

“Why do you say that?” I try to hide the waver in my voice when confronted with his very accurate accusation.

“Tell me why I’m not included in their discussion when we’re talking about you and how to keep you safe. You’re mine. You’re my whole fucking heart, and they all know I’ll do everything to keep you safe, yet, they were sitting there having a whole conversation with their eyes. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Why is no one letting me in on what the hell happened before? Becausewhatever it is, it’s got them worried now.” His voice is calm, and he isn’t yelling, but to me, that’s scarier than if he were still screaming.

“What?” I stand up and run my fingers through my hair. “That doesn’t make sense. That has nothing to do with anything. Why would they? What did they? Fuck.”

“What did they say? I wouldn’t fucking know, Rox.”

“Look, I can’t tell you.” The guilt’s killing me because he’s right. I’m his just as much as he’s mine. There shouldn’t be secrets in our relationship. We should be talking about all the problems of our pasts that shaped us.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He tosses his hands in the air like he is finally done with me. He turns again, and I think he is going to walk away, and I panic.

“Max,” I grab his hand, and he stops moving. I place my other hand on his face and cradle his cheek. “I can’t tell you because it’s not my story to tell. I’m only a small part of it. If I tell you everything, I tell you someone else’s secrets, and I can’t do that to her. As y’all so lovingly say, it’s club business.” I give him a small, playful smile, trying to take the edge off the fact I can’t tell him more rather than won’t tell him more.

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