Page 34 of Anything for You
“You wouldn’t. No one would, because I don’t talk about my family.” She swallowed, fingers knitting together in her lap. “So, you were just so lovely and honest with me, I could reciprocate, right? I mean, you’re not going to think I’m a total weirdo—well, you probably already do, so that’s no harm done. And beyond that, it’s reality. I can’t change my past, right? So maybe the way to be honest, the way to really let someone in and deal with my loneliness and everything is to, you know, just let it out there. Right?”
Those bright eyes blinked back at me, and I hoped with everything in me I could give her the right answer. I didn’t love that I’d laid out my past at her feet, but she hadn’t stomped on it. She hadn’t even sneered. If anything, she’d championed me.
I shifted forward, hands on my knees and just shy of touching hers. “I can say I’d like to know the truth about you. And I daresay it won’t change my opinion of you.”
Her eyes flashed, and for once, I thought I read what she was thinking. She wondered about those last few words—what did I think of her?
I wouldn’t dream of telling her right now.
Maybe someday.
The wariness written into the rise and fall of her chest and the tightness in her cheeks and around her eyes made me want to take her hands and press kisses along her knuckles. It made me want to hold her close and promise her she’d be okay and whatever she had to tell me wouldn’t change anything.
At this point, nothing could change the path I was on. Some part of me had accepted that the minute she rested her head on my shoulder weeks ago.
“I grew up in New Mexico for the most part. In a little community that had its quirks, you know? Women wore long skirts and after they were married, they covered their heads with bonnets or caps. From the outside, it might’ve seemed like we were Mennonite or something, except we used basic technology like cars and such. There were a few horses on the property but we had four-wheelers and dirt bikes and stuff.”
She flexed her fingers into one another, then spread them wide over the skirt of her dress and a low, bitter chuckle came out as she fingered the hem of the material resting just above her bare knee.
“Guess I wear shorter dresses sometimes just for theI’m an adult and you can’t tell me what to doflex.”
When she lifted her eyes to mine again, I settled in to listen because here it came. Whatever it was, the gravity in her face said this was the crux of what she didn’t want to say, but for some reason felt compelled to.
“It wasn’t just a community. It was a cult. I didn’t really get it because it was all I’d ever known. I thought the way they treated the girls who arrived from somewhere outside our community was normal, that they were different and had to learn to adjust to our culture, thought my mom crying all the time was normal.”
She exhaled long and slow, then continued, “That place was raided, and we moved to Idaho. I guess the cult leadership had been involved in some shady dealings and the FBI thought they’d find evidence. Someone tipped us off and we all left overnight. When we settled in Idaho, things got worse.”
This time, I did reach out, clasping her hand in mine. I couldn’t stand the thought of her living through somethinglike that—being in danger, and ultimately not escaping it even then.
She took hold of me, her grip firm and unrelenting.
“Long story short, my parents passed when I was twelve and my brother was fourteen. He had some issues, and by the time he was free, he was old enough to be on his own. The community kept me close until I finally got through to one of the younger women who notified my only remaining relative. When I was fifteen, I came to live with my grandma here, but by then, my brother had opted out. He’s been all over, and I only hear from him every so often. It’d been three years until a few hours ago when he called and told me to stop being a slut.”
I jolted at the foul word like I’d been shot, and she held on to my hand tighter.
It’d been a long time since I’d felt this kind of vicious desire to harm someone. I would only need a little information, and I could find him. I could make this, at least, a little better for her.
After a slow, calming breath in, I spoke in a low, rage-roughened voice. “What is his name? Where does he live?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dove
Well, hello, angel of darkness Dorian.
Call me a simpleton, but having a man wanting to defend my honor was more than a little hot. Especially with his large, warm hand steadying me and his general existence calling to me more and more.
“His name is Hawk, and while I love that you would ask that, I have no idea. I also don’t think it’s worth worrying about. He has clearly been drinking some new cult’s Kool-Aid and that means I won’t be able to reconnect with him.”
As much as that set my heart to aching, this had happened before.
“Sometimes, he’ll pop up like this and say horrible things. Other times, he’ll be penitent, asking for forgiveness and full of regrets. I never know which version of him I’ll get, and Nan has helped me work through it a bit. I guess I’ve accepted I can’t change him, at least for the most part.”
I still hoped he would change. I couldn’t imagine ever giving up on that hope.
“Nan is your grandmother? Was she involved in the cult?”
His posture had relaxed, and Bear, whose head had popped up to surveil the situation when Dorian’s low rumble had come out asking for Hawk’s name, had snuggled back down to rest on his paws.
