Page 112 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“I never realized how much childhood trauma I carried, or how it manifested until I found my current therapist.”
“What happened?”
It’s in these quiet moments, when it’s the two of us, that I know Thane’s listening and trying hard to understand a concept that’s completely foreign to him. It tugs on every heartstring I possess and makes me fall a little more for him.
“It happened gradually, but one exercise in particular that she had me do changed my life.”
His arm wraps around my shoulders, and we stare straight ahead, but he squeezes me to him, waiting for me to continue.
“When I was young, after my mother passed, I never knew when my father would come home, or what kind of father I’d get when he did arrive. I started having panic attacks when I was nine. If he said he’d be home at seven and didn’t show up, I’d run to every window in the house, waiting for headlights. I’d scream until I was sure there was no way he couldn’t hear me. I’d cry until I couldn’t breathe. I was sure this was the time he wouldn’t come home either. I’d dig my nails into my palms to ground myself, drawing blood nearly every time while also telling myself that these reactions weren’t normal. Normal people didn’t have racing hearts and dark thoughts. Normal people kept their chaos inside, but mine was so big I couldn’t contain it.”
“Jesus, sweetheart, that’s?—”
“Life. I was too young to have the skills to cope, and no one taught them to me. That’s why I’m so proud of you for putting your opinions aside and giving Kara access to those tools.”
“Why would reliving that make it any better? I spend most of my time avoiding memories. I can’t imagine actively sitting in them.”
“But that’s exactly what I did.”
He pulls back to stare at me as though I’m some form of new code he hasn’t deciphered yet.
“I sat in the middle of my therapist’s office, and I imagined myself talking to a nine-year-old me who was in the middle of one of those attacks.”
I give him a moment to absorb my words.
“What did you say?”
“I told little me that she was safe. That she was beautiful, and that none of what would happen over the next few years would be her fault. I told her that she would grow up to help little boys and girls just like herself, so she needed to be strong, and believe in herself, even when no one else did. Especially when no one else would. I told her to trust herself, and to love herself, and that no matter what happened, to teach people how she deserved to be treated by treating herself that way first. But mostly, I repeated that she was safe. Every day for months I would tell little me that she was safe. Eventually, I started to believe it.”
“Where was your brother during all of this?” The protective growl in his tone snags another heartstring.
“Elijah is older than me by quite a few years, but we were both kids. We did the best we could.”
“Apparently not enough,” he grumbles.
I shiver even though it’s still a warm summer night, and without missing a beat, Thane lifts me into the air before settling me between his thighs. Thick, muscular arms wrap around my middle, and he rests his chin on my head.
“I thought you didn’t like to cuddle.” Even my words sound as though they’re smiling.
“Everything appears to be different with you, Charlotte.”
I lean into him and tilt my head to gaze at the stars. It’s my favorite thing about this place—there’s no light pollution, and the stars are visible nearly every night.
“I would probably tell myself that I’m not broken,” he says. “I’d tell myself not to be afraid of making connections with people, even if some of them would eventually make fun of me or run away when I couldn’t make eye contact or because I would hit myself when the world felt as though it were attacking me.”
His words might as well break apart my ribs and squeeze my heart. I stop breathing, worried that any distraction might silence him.
“I’d tell myself not to lie to myself—not to make myself believe that I didn’t need anyone—or that relationships made me weak. I’d tell myself that not everyone would hurt me, and that even if I’m different, people can still love me. I’d tell myself that I would be okay, and safe, and that one day, I would even be happy.”
Tears overflow and track down my cheeks. He opened up to me, and I know how much that must have cost him.
When I wiggle my shoulders, he releases his grip on me, and I shift in place so I’m sitting on my knees between his thighs, facing him.
“I’d tell myself that someday…” His gaze dances across my features, so open and more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen them. “I’d tell myself that someday, I’d even fall in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. She’ll make me crazy with her independence, and proud of her control. I’d tell myself that even though I spent a lifetime believing I didn’t need love, love found me anyway. And I’d make damn sure I told myself to do everything possible to never let this woman get away.”
“Thane.”
“Please don’t cry, Charlotte.” He wipes my tears with his thumbs as he cradles my face. “I don’t know if you’re happy or sad. If you’re angry at me for telling you that I love you by talking to my inner fucking child, or if you’re crying because you’re overwhelmed, but I am overwhelmed. Every day with you I’m overwhelmed that you’re still here, that you haven’t run away or told me to leave, and I’ve never really known what fear felt like. But I do now, and I’m scared every single time I open my mouth that it’ll be the last words you allow me to say.”
