“I was at a bar for a friend’s birthday. He got a little worse for wear, so the other guys bundled him into a cab and took him home. I lived in the opposite direction, so I planned to head home by myself. I did it all the time. I was a young man. A strong, fit one. If I was worried about anything happening when I was alone, it was being mugged for my wallet, not…”
I look up as he pauses, and I kiss his jaw gently. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
His brow furrows, deep lines coursing through it. Never did I imagine having this conversation with him. It’s the last thing I ever expected him to tell me. The last thing in the world I thought I would hear from his lips.
Yet here we are.
I settle my head back down and angle it up so I can watch him as he speaks, my heart heavy in my chest.
“I want to tell you, Harley. Of all the people in the world, you are the only one I’ve everwantedto tell.”
“Okay,” I whisper, waiting for him to continue. The knowledge that he’s choosing to share this with me is bittersweet. Him telling me I’m the only person in the world he wants to share something with makes my heart swell with happiness. But at the same time, what he’s about to tell me is the sharp needle that will inevitably pop it before shredding it into a million pieces.
“I stayed to finish my drink, and this woman sitting next to me at the bar started chatting. She was older than me by at least ten years. She was flirty, made it obvious she found me attractive. I was twenty-one and fueled by hormones, so of course, I was flattered, and… I flirted back.” Reed’s jaw tenses, and his mouth flattens into a grim line.
“She bought me another drink, and that’s the last clear memory I have of the night. The rest is just pieces, fragments. Flashbacks here and there… dreams. Blonde hair. A woman’s voice talking, saying words I don’t remember. Being completely out of it, lying on my back, my head spinning, as someone moved on top of me.”
Blonde hair. Someone on top of me.
“She was blonde?” I search Reed’s eyes, nausea clawing its way up my windpipe.
“Yes.” He reaches up and fingers a wisp of my hair.
I swallow down the solid, scratchy lump in my throat as I remember all the times Maria heard Reed through her old apartment wall. She would hear him having sex with different women all the time. Rough, wild, hard sex. They were always blonde, and they would always leave shortly after. No one ever stayed. Reed always ended the night just as he started it.
Alone.
“Is that why…? All those blonde women?” I hold my breath; not sure I want to hear his answer. I just thought he was a man-whore who thought with his dick. How I wish that was the truth now.
He looks at me with such self-loathing in his eyes that my heart cracks right down the center.
“I’ve been an idiot, Harley. All those women I barely knew. It was something so deep-rooted, I didn’t even recognize it at first. At least, that’s how it started. I saw blonde hair, and I needed to be the one taking back control. I hated it.Despisedit. I couldn’t see a woman with blonde hair without wanting to take her, use her, and discard her. Like what was done to me. Then it became a habit. I didn’t need to do it anymore. I didn’t even think about it like that as time went on. But I couldn’t stop.”
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“Then I met you. And blonde wasn’t the color of the devil anymore. It was the color of an angel. Everything about you, Harley, it’s so good, bright, and pure. I curse myself for touching you with my stained hands.” The arm Reed has around me tightens, pulling me closer to him. “But I can’t fucking control myself. I want you. All. The. Time. And it has nothing to do with my past or the color of your hair.”
I stare at him, letting his words sink in, letting the pieces fall into place.
“That’s why the other night when—”
“Yes.” He draws me closer and looks into my eyes. “Another habit. A reflex left over from a faded memory. I don’t think about it anymore. I swear to you, I’ve left it in the past. And what we just did, watching you on top of me. God… I’m glad I never did that with anyone else until now. That memory, Harls. It belongs to you now. All I will ever see from now on isyou. You’re so fucking sexy. I could look at you all day.”
“A new memory,” I repeat, as Reed dusts his lips over mine.
“I need new memories, Angel. The others are shit,” he says, so matter-of-factly that I laugh unexpectedly.
He pulls me to him for a kiss, his lips curling into a small smile against mine.
“They’re really spectacularly shit,” he adds, before falling serious again.
I know there’s more. So much more. And I steel myself to hear it. I need to listen to everything no matter how hard it is to hear because it must be a million times harder for Reed to say it.
But he is. And he’s tellingme.
Knowing he trusts me enough to share it has me scared I will cry again. But I must hold it together. This is his story.
“Go on,” I urge gently.