“Don’t make me lie to you, Violet,” Elden finally replied.
The ground swayed underneath me. My name out of his mouth was unlike anything I’d ever heard. It made my skin tingle, every single one of my nerve endings crying out for something. For him.
When I stepped forward, his body tensed, but he didn’t move.
“Then don’t lie to me, Elden,” I whispered.
He didn’t speak. Just stared at me in that blank but somehow not empty way.
The silence was too uncomfortable, and I rushed to find pieces of myself to give him so we weren’t just strangers staring at each other with an intimacy that shouldn’t exist.
“I don’t like to drive in the rain,” I blurted, unaware as to why. “I don’t tell anyone that. Because it seems so trivial, pathetic and weak. Because it doesn’t align with the story, I tell myself about how strong I am, how independent, how I will be able to live my entire adult life without needing a man.” I sucked in an unsteady breath underneath Elden’s gaze.
“But I hate it,” I whispered. “I get anxiety so strong, I feel like I’m having a heart attack. I can’t breathe. But I won’t stop, even though it’s likely even more dangerous to drive in the rain while feeling like I’m having a heart attack. I can’t give in. Won’t. So I do it.”
I swallowed roughly. He didn’t say anything, barely moved.
“I used to steal things,” I continued, my cheeks hot with shame. “Nothing important. Lip-gloss. Batteries. Whatever I could get away with. I’ve felt this pressure to be perfect my entire life. Because my mother was so perfect.” My eyes went downward. “Of course, now I understand she felt like she had to be in order to keep herself safe.” My voice was small now.
“I resented her,” I continued, still looking at the ground. “For being so buttoned up, so obedient, for not challenging the conventional gender roles my father pushed her into. Knowing what I know now, I feel ashamed for that. But I also still resent her a little. For not leaving sooner. For letting him hurt her for years. For letting me live in that house with him. Love him.” My voice shook as I fought back tears.
There it was, my deepest, darkest secret, out in the light with him.
I didn’t know he was right in front of me until I saw his motorcycle boots on the carpet where I had been looking. His fingers found my chin, lifting it upward.
His eyes were liquid aquamarine and his features were no longer hard and empty. They weren’t completely soft either. But this was an expression I hadn’t seen him use, not with anyone, and I’d been watching him pretty damn closely.
This expression was mine.
“I flew to France,” he murmured, searching my face.
Although I had suspected it, I hadn’t let myself fully believe it. Just another scenario I’d created in my head … the hot, older biker feeling so intensely for me after just one kiss, he flies across an ocean to punish the man who put hands on me.
But it happened.
He did it.
“Found the fuck who hurt you,” he continued, brushing his fingers across my jawline.
My heart was a roar in my ears.
There were a lot of questions to ask at this juncture. Like how he found Jacques when all he knew was his first name. Like why he flew to another country for a girl who shouldn’t matter to him.
“Did you kill him?” I asked, my voice thin.
“No. But I made him wish I did.”
My stomach plummeted. I was against violence. After everything in my past, I should for sure be against violence.
In principal, I was.
But right here, right now, I couldn’t find myself to feel bad for Jacques, feel anger toward Elden for avenging me in that ancient way.
The air seemed to shimmer around us. He smelled of home. Of safety. Warmth.
Elden’s eyes searched my face, lingering on my lips.
My breath caught.