She wanted to beg him to promise he wouldn’t leave her, but he’d already confirmed “that wasn’t their reality.”
“Zeke,” she murmured. “Can you tell me about your parents? Did you have siblings?”
He grew very still and she felt a distance that she didn’t like.
“You don’t have to. I just want to know everything about you.”
“I can understand. But everything about you is incredible. Me … not so much.” The lamps were still on so she could see his eyes were gray right now. Stormy and gray.
“I think everything about you is incredible,” she insisted. She arched up and kissed him.
He returned it. Fiercely. Wow. The kiss was intense and scorching and even if one of them died tomorrow, she’d never forget how perfect Zeke’s kisses were.
He pulled back and stared at her.
“I had to teach you how to tolerate my touch, but you needed no instruction on kissing, Rambo.”
He chuckled and stared at her face as if memorizing every detail. “Kissing you is instinctive. And truthfully, there was no learning to tolerate your touch. From the first time you slid your hand against mine to shake my hand, I was stunned and knew that your touch was different for me than anyone else’s in the world.”
“Oh, Zeke.”
He captured her mouth again.
Much, much later, she cuddled into him and was afraid she would fall asleep and in the morning it would all be gone like Cinderella’s magical dress, carriage, and entourage.
She felt her eyes closing and tried to pry them back open.
“I have a sister,” he said softly.
“You do?” Not only was that a surprise, but she was thrilled he was opening up.
“Mary. She’s a few years older than me. My parents weren’t as awful to her. My dad even seemed to say nice things to her, and neither of them hurt her physically. I have hope that she turned out okay.”
“I hope so too.” She waited but couldn’t stop herself from saying, “They hit you?”
“No. They liked to squeeze me until I bruised or broke. My hand or my upper arms, right above my knee. Mostly they liked to come up behind me and wrap their arms around my chest and squeeze until sometimes my ribs cracked.”
“No,” she gasped out.
He nodded. She felt it against her hair. “It was all about control. If I wasn’t ‘perfect’ in some aspect they belittled me, squeezed until they couldn’t squeeze any longer, made me work every hour I wasn’t asleep or at school. Even as a small child, I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of me crying out or submitting to them. Which made them hate me more and get meaner.”
“Oh, Zeke.” She was so sick for him.
“Surprisingly, they let me play football. That was a great time. I was incredible at it, so they got a lot of praise from the community. Which was their deepest desire. Everybody thought my parents were the ‘best people’.” The disgust in his voice was thick. “I heard a sick story about an SS guard who could kill innocent people during the day, but never once raised his voice and was ‘the best dad’ to his own children. My parents were the opposite.”
“How did you survive?”
He shrugged. “I always knew they couldn’t control my mind, and I told myself every time I didn’t cry out or didn’t give in, I was growing stronger.”
“No wonder you’re so strong.” What an awful way to gain strength, but how impressive that he conquered pain with his own self-control.
“I also could hide in the pond. My mom hated that nasty pond, so she wouldn’t come after me. Plus, I could hold my breath for a long time so sometimes she wouldn’t even see me.” He smiled at that. “No wonder I’m a Frogman, eh?”
“Oh, Zeke.” She had no idea what to say.
“I don’t want you to feel bad for me.” His voice turned stiff again.
“I know you don’t.” She touched his chin and directed his gaze down to hers. “But it’s me, Zeke. You could tell me anything and it wouldn’t change how I fancy you.”