Page 31 of Rock On

“Oh, I’m broken,” I said gruffly. “There’s no doubt about that.”

“We’re all broken in our own way,” she said gently. “There isn’t a single soul in this universe who doesn’t have some broken pieces. I promise you that. The trick is making sure the cracks don’t get so deep we fall apart.”

“That makes sense. The problem is that I don’t know where the cracks are or how to fix them.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“I’m here because I have to rehab the knee and I skipped out on therapy when Carter died, so it felt like I’d be able to kill two birds with one stone.”

“You have to be willing to do the work, Tommy—may I call you Tommy?”

“Can I call you Allisha?”

“Sure.” She smiled. “We don’t have to be formal here.”

“Great. So tell me more.”

“The only way this works is if you open up, but I can see it’s going to take a little time to build that trust, which is absolutely fair. But we’ve only got two weeks, so we’re both going to have to compromise.”

“Tell me how.”

“Tell me something personal and intimate. Something you’ve never admitted out loud. Something I can use my fancy degree to tear apart.”

I grinned. “You really want to go there, huh?”

“Why not?”

I liked this woman, and somehow, I was already starting to trust her, but I was also going to test her. Her reaction to what I was about to tell her would give me a better feel for how the rest of the week would go.

“Well, in for a penny, I guess…” I took a deep breath. “The reason I was driving like a lunatic the other day was because the day before would have been Carter’s thirtieth birthday. The cemetery was really busy during the day, so I went up there late that night, around midnight.”

She didn’t say anything, merely watched my face as I continued.

“When I got there, I ran into my ex-wife, who apparently had the same idea I did. We briefly argued about which one of us should leave, then she fell off the tree branch she was sitting on and I broke her fall. The minute we touched it was like sparks ignited, and the next thing I knew, I was fucking her against a tree.”

“Oh. Well, that didn’t go the way I expected it to.” She didn’t appear shocked or horrified, more curious than anything else. “I’m assuming it was consensual.”

“Of course. I would never hurt anyone like that.” I paused. “Well, I guess I need to explain that part. Because it’s convoluted.”

“Go on.”

I gave her a brief explanation of our sexual history before telling her about the bruises on Harley’s wrists and the brutality of our lovemaking.

“It never occurred to me I hurt her,” I admitted. “And while part of me feels like shit, another part of me feels like…” I stopped talking, reluctant to voice what I was thinking.

“Like she deserves it for hurting you when she left.” Allisha finished my sentence.

“So you do read minds,” I said quietly.

“I read body language and I’ve been doing this for a while. I had a feeling I knew where this was going the moment you told me about your sexual history with her.”

“Was I trying to hurt her?” I asked. “Am I turning into some kind of monster?”

“I can’t answer that for sure, but my gut response is no. She always enjoyed the roughness and there was no indication she didn’t enjoy it this time. The real question is, why did you—and I’m talking about both of you—want to have sex in the first place? It’s been three years since the divorce, it didn’t end amicably, and you haven’t really spoken since. What do you think made you want to reconnect that way instead of by continuing to argue?”

I frowned. “Because I’ve never stopped loving her. I’ll never walk away from an excuse to be with her that way.”

“Okay. What’s her excuse?”

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