Page 25 of Bad Luck, Hard Love
I nod, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. There is an undeniable connection between us, an intensity that cannot be denied. In this moment, I trust him completely.
Thor’s strong arms hold me securely as he steps closer to the ledge, his eyes never leaving mine. The lights of the city twinkle below us, the sounds of laughter and music fading into the background.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. Do you know that, Charlotte?” His lips crash into mine again. His hungry lips devour mine. My dress rides up to my hips with the motion.
His lips trail from mine down my jawline, his breath hot against my skin. His hand draws upward. I freeze when I feelhis fingers graze my skin. My body stiffens as memories of Terrance’s abuse flutter into my mind. “Stop,” I order.
His hand falls away from my neck immediately. He shifts backward, helping me back to my feet, and adds some distance between us. Distance I don’t want, but need right now.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I do something? If I moved too fast, Charlotte, I apologize.”
I take a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts. “It’s not you.” His piercing gaze never leaves mine as I choke back a sob. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then what is it?”
My heart races as I take a shaky breath, steeling myself to reveal my darkest secret. “I just got out of an abusive relationship,” I confess.
“How long?” he demands in a low, serious tone.
“Seven years,” I choke out, tears threatening to spill as I relive the nightmare all over again. “I divorced him six months ago.” The memory of our divorce rushes back to me. The sneer on Terrance’s face as he blamed me for everything. Arrogance dripping from him while he claimed that the beatings I’d endured were my fault.
“Tell me what happened,” he growls.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “He wasn’t always a monster. Not at first. But that’s how they get you. They charm you, wear you down with sweetness until you don’t realize you’re in a cage.”
Thor doesn’t interrupt. He just stills, every muscle in his body tightening like a loaded weapon.
“It started with little things—comments that chipped away at me. Said I was too sensitive. Too emotional. That no one else would ever love me like he did. Then it was my friends. He didn’t trust them. Said they turned me against him. Eventually, I stopped hearing from them at all.”
His fingers curl around the edge of the table, the tendons in his forearm standing out like ropes.
“He made me dye my hair blonde. Every month. Said brunettes didn’t catch attention. Told me how to dress, what to wear, what to say in public. I wasn’t a person to him—I was a brand. And if I didn’t play the part, there were consequences.”
My throat tightens. “He forced me into surgeries. Said my nose was too wide. My chest too small. He picked me apart piece by piece until the woman in the mirror didn’t even look like me anymore.”
Thor shifts in his seat, jaw clenched so tightly I can see the strain in his neck.
“And when things didn’t go perfectly? When dinner wasn’t hot enough, or I dared to talk back?” I force myself to meet his eyes. “He’d hit me. Shove me. Drag me by the hair. Once, he broke three ribs because I forgot to pick up his dry cleaning.”
His breathing is heavier now, controlled but ragged. Like he’s barely holding something back.
“But the worst—” I stop, fighting through the lump in my throat. “I got pregnant. I lost the baby. And instead of grieving with me, he called it a ‘close call.’ Said I was too broken to be a mother. That I’d only mess up a kid like I messed up everything else. Then he pressured me into a hysterectomy.” I swallow the tears burning at the corners of my eyes. “Said it was for the best. So we wouldn’t have any more ‘accidents.’”
Thor’s entire frame goes rigid. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. The only sound between us is his slow, simmering exhale—like a fuse burning low.
“I survived it,” I whisper. “But I didn’t walk away whole.”
For a long moment, he says nothing. But the violence in him isn’t directed at me. It’s out there—aimed at a man who’ll never deserve to breathe the same air again. And for once, I don’t feel ashamed for telling the truth. I feel seen.
“Where does this motherfucker live?”
“He doesn’t matter anymore.”
“The fuck he doesn’t,” Thor fires back. He begins to pace in front of me. Anger wafting off him in thick waves. “Tell me, Charlotte.”
“Thor,” I mutter, stepping forward and pressing my hand to his chest. It rises and falls rapidly under my touch. “He doesn’t matter. He’s not worth whatever you’re thinking right now.”
“I can’t help the way I feel, Charlotte. Knowing that had I not stepped in last night, the cycle of abuse in your life would have continued.”
