Page 71 of Tempting Irish

“Answer me, Bree.” I place a palm on her cheek and force her to look atme.

She rubs her hand again, the one that seized up when she was playing the piano, and I know I already have myanswer.

“He was more of a control freak.” She shrugs, her eyes going distant. “But when my mom left,he…”

“He what?” The weight of whatever she’s been carrying around with her feels like it’s crushing my ribs. I know I should stop prodding. I feel the turmoil warring inside her. But I need to know her secrets. Not just because I want to know, but so that I can protecther.

Her voice is cold, detached, when she continues. “He took a bat to my piano.” She lifts up her hand. “And I got in hisway.”

Anger splinters through me. And a sense of guilt. I know there’s nothing I could have done to protect her, but I wish I couldhave.

“He’s the one that broke yerhand?”

Another smallnod.

Pain twists me in two, and a violence rose up inside me, wanting to hurt the man who’d hurther.

“Was hecharged?”

“He didn’t meanto-”

“Doesn’tmatter.”

She lets out a sigh. “No. Itdoesn’t.”

“Did yer momknow?”

She shrugs. “If she did, she didn’tcare.”

“And ye stayed withhim?”

“I was fifteen. Had nowhere else togo.”

Fuck.

“But when Ileft…”

A heavy silence stretches between us, and I know she’s struggling with whether or not to trust me with whatever secret she’s been holding onto.

I take her hand, and brush my lips across her knuckles. “Tellme.”

“I was angry,” she says softly. “I wanted to make a point. Hurt him, like he hurtme.”

“What did yedo?”

She shakes her head, her eyes filling with memories, the storm beneath them collecting speed. “He had this car. A blue ‘57 Chevy. It was the only thing he really loved. Mom and I weren’t allowed near it.” Her lips tug up slightly. “So, I tookit.”

“Ye tookit?”

“Got two states away before I realized he’d called the police on me,” The confession breaks in her throat. “So, I dumped it, but not before I made sure he’d never drive itagain.”

I drag my hand through my hair and let out a breath, wondering what else she’s not telling me, but grateful for this small break in herarmor.

“And this Frank guy, is he still aproblem?”

“No.”

She’s lying. But I’ve already pushed enoughtonight.

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