Page 78 of Piece By Piece

“Oh,” is all I can think to say to that.He was worried. He cares.I think it’s nice to know that after missing the same reminders from my own parents, but I can’t feel it right now. I can’t feel much of anything other than this oppressive exhaustion.

“Yeah. So, where are you? Are you okay?” From the urgency in his tone, I can tell that he’s dying to get an answer to the latter question. Since he wouldn’t like the true answer to that, I lie.

“Yes, my dad just held me up and I missed the last bus. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“It’s no big deal. I was up anyway. I’m leaving right now.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon.” And so I wait on my front porch, alone with my thoughts and freezing likea beaten dog.

When Seb’s car pulls up, I quickly jump into the passenger seat, barely looking at him to say hello before I turn my face away. I checked my reflection in my phone earlier to see my split lip and a purple bruise already forming around it. If I can get home before Sebastian sees it, he’ll never know.

The longer we just stand still in my driveway, the more my hope that I’ll get away with it dwindles. Finally, gentle fingers cup my chin and turn my face, confirming that my plan has already failed.

Sebastian’s worried eyes flick between my eyes, then drop back to my lip. He grits his teeth, though his touch on me is achingly gentle.

“What happened?” he asks, trying his best to hide his anger.

“I slipped,” I try half-heartedly, not meeting his eyes again.

“Aliena, don’t lie to me. Or I’ll have to go in there and find the answer myself,” Sebastian threatens. Still, I don’t flinch at his gruff tone. There’s not a nerve in my body that’s on alert. Not with him. I know he’d never hurt me.

“My dad lost it a little. It’s not so bad, though. It was just a little slap. Please, don’t make a big deal out of this. I just want to go home,” I plead with him, too tired for a charade.

After a silent second, something changes in his eyes. Like he’s realizing something... Frowning, he mutters, “Nothing new,” under his breath.

“What?” I ask, and his eyes snap back to focus.

“Nothing new. That’s what you said when you called me from the telephone booth. You told me your attacker punched you, but that it was nothing new,” he explains, hisvoice getting clearer with every word, and I can see him piece the whole story together.

I curse myself for slipping. Now and back in November. Especially when Sebastian’s eyes meet mine, a deadly inferno of rage hidden in his. He lets go of my chin as if it’d burned him.

“He hits you?” he bursts incredulously. I have to suppress a flinch, not because I’m scared but because the words hurt to hear.My father hurt me.

“No. Not anymore. Not in many years, Sebastian. Today was an accident,” I try to reason with him, the denial useless in the face of his palpable outrage.

“How do you accidentally hit your daughter?” he demands, nearly screaming now. “And what do you mean, not in many years?”

Sensing that this isn’t the time for games or lies, I say, “When my mother succumbed to addiction the first time around, my dad was under a lot of pressure, working and raising me. Sometimes, just when I’d mess up something or upset mom, he’d lash out. But it was never bad and he didn’t mean any harm.”

Sebastian bites his tongue, blows out a breath, and rubs his hands down his face. I can tell he wants to keep screaming. Hell, he probably wants to go inside my house and yell at my dad. I won’t let him, though. That sort of stress is the last thing my father needs.

Finally, Sebastian sighs and slumps in his seat. His hands drop from his face to cup my cheeks with utmost care. “I wish you’d told me earlier. I don’t care if you say today was a slip-up. I’d have accompanied you on your visits if I knew that he was dangerous,” he tells me.

“He’s not dangerous,” I protest. “He’s just under a lot of pressure.”

Sebastian’s brows dip slightly as he shakes his head.” Don’t make excuses for him, Sweetheart. He doesn’t deserve it.” He sighs, studying me for a long moment.

I’m glad when the pity finally bleeds from his gaze, his expression changing as he searches my face. “Thank you for telling me,” he finally says.

“It’s not exactly a pretty bedtime story,” I mumble, unsure why he’d be happy about my being a debbie downer.

“I don’t care. I’m happy about every piece you reveal about yourself. I want to know you, Aly. The good and the bad, and most of all the hidden pieces you keep so close to your chest. I want you to trust me enough to confide in me.”

“You do know me,” I tell him hoarsely. He probably knows me better than anyone at the moment.

Nodding slightly, he brings my hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Then, he says “ Let’s go home.”

So we do. Sebastian doesn’t push me to talk more about tonight, and I appreciate it, using the silence to figure out my feelings.

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