Page 42 of Ghost's Obsession

“You’re a really nice, decent man. You know that?”

Ignoring her question, I tell her quietly, “I like waking up to you.”

She looks at me for a long second, searching, like she’s testing the weight of the words. Then she smiles.

“I like waking up here.”

And damn if that doesn’t make my chest ache in a way I don’t see coming.

I smile at her, genuinely enamored with everything about her. “Want to cuddle up on the sofa and talk?”

“Absolutely.” Heather follows me to the living room and curls up on the couch beside me. She brings her coffee cup and takes a sip as she gazes at me, smiling.

We just enjoy a quiet moment together as I wait for her to pick a conversation. I don’t rush her because it feels like it would be rude. Instead, I let the silence stretch. And eventually, she starts talking.

Clearing her throat, she says softly, “I didn’t tell the whole story about Jerry and what he did to me. He didn’t hit me. Not always.”

I set my empty coffee cup down. “He shouldn’t have been hitting you at all.”

“He never had to get physical. He used intimidation to make sure I thought he would.”

I try not to let my fury show. “That’s a kind of violence too. Terrifying people is mental abuse.”

She swallows another mouthful of coffee before continuing. “When we were in public, he always stood too close. Talked low so no one else could hear. When I said no, he made it sound like I didn’t mean it. Like I was just being cute or dramatic.”

I clench my jaw, but I don’t speak. This asshole truly deserves every fucking thing I plan to give him.

Her voice sounds fragile when she speaks. “He figured out what I was afraid of and used it against me. For instance, when he found out I was afraid of the dark. He started turning off the lights when we argued,” she whispers. “Told me to find my way out if I was going to walk away. Said if I wanted to leave, I had to do it blind.”

My fists curl in my lap and I lock my jaw because this sweet woman needs to talk about what she’s been through. She doesn’t need to deal with my anger on top of her own trauma.

“I realized somewhere along the way that he tried to keep me scared, lost, and disoriented. It was his way of ensuring I didn’thave the courage to leave. He was good at figuring out ways to make me stay put. It worked for far too long.”

She pulls her knees tighter, staring at the couch cushion as her mind drifts back to her former abuse. When she doesn’t say anything, I do.

“But you left,” I point out. “You got yourself out.”

“Because I was worried that he’d be the last man I ever dated. That things would escalate to the point that he crossed that last boundary into physical abuse. Jerry is obsessive about everything, and I knew he’d be obsessing about hurting me if and when he got comfortable with it.”

“Thank God you didn’t give him the chance.”

She gives a broken laugh.

“I didn’t tell Siege and Rigs everything. I was too embarrassed.”

I nod again. “You don’t have to share anything with them that you don’t want to.”

Her eyes flick up to mine. “Do you mind if I tell you? I’m comfortable with you, and I feel like if I don’t tell someone, it’s going to eat me up inside.”

“Yeah. You know you can tell me anything. I won’t ever judge you.”

She studies me like she’s trying to decide if I’m really safe. Then she says something I’m not ready for.

“I never told anyone about the photos.”

I go still. At first, I think he’s taken nude pictures of her—then I learn it’s much worse than that.

She licks her lips. “Sometimes when I left the house, even for a short period of time, I’d come home and things would be off. Nothing was missing, so I knew it wasn’t a break-in. Things werejust touched, moved slightly. Who breaks in just to reposition objects in someone’s home? It didn’t make any sense. I started marking the edges of drawers with sticky notes to check. He was coming inside.”

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