Page 35 of Since Day One

“Then you had a few hook-ups?”

“Nope.”

“Let me get this straight. The first and last time you had a boyfriend, you were a teenager,” he said. His fingers continued to brush tenderly up and down my arm. I didn’t want that to stop. I didn’t want the calming goosebumps that erupted from his touch to disappear, and they would if I told him everything.

“Correct,” I said, keeping my answer short.

“How’d you meet him?”

“Marissa was dating his younger brother.”

“His younger brother? Isn’t she older than you?” His hand slowed.

“Yes.”

“How old was he?” he continued, and I shook my head.

“Doesn’t really matter,” I muttered.

“Why not?”

“He had money.” I bit back the threatening tears, hiding my face away.

“Okay,” he said, accepting the answer as his hand returned to its leisurely and relaxed pace. “So, how many guys have you kissed?”

“One.”

He rocked his head backward. “You never kissed anyone before that one boyfriend or after?”

I forced a chuckle. “I didn’t care about boys or dating. I was doing everything I could to prove to my parents that I would make it in the Western world.”

“So, why this guy? You’ve only kissed one guy and dated this one guy, so he’s got to be special,” Gunnar pressured. There it was. He hadn’t accepted my answer.

“He was rich, Gunnar. He gave my parents money and me all the gifts in the world.” I answered, edging toward frustration. Couldn’t he just let this go? “He bought me three cars in the span of a year, in cash, and paid off my parents’ mortgage, so naturally they loved him. And I was expected to comply because I owed him.”

Gunnar didn’t answer—not right away, at least—as his fingers came to a screeching halt. There it was, the shock I’d been avoiding. His fingertips remained against my arm, and he didn’t move me or back away, but clearly something was spinning in his head.

“How old was he, Willow?” Gunnar suddenly grabbed my shoulders, spinning me to face him.

“Why do you care?” I asked, shrinking away.

“Because what teenager can afford to pay off a mortgage and buy cars? He would’ve needed his parent’s permission unless…” His voice trailed off as shame and embarrassment washed over me. Gunnar knew. He knew, and I was about to become worthless, used goods to him.

“Can we please talk about something else?” I whispered, my voice trembling, and Gunnar shook his head.

“Why were your parents okay with it?” He looked at me, anger hardening his features. I shrugged, wanting to fade away, unable to find the strength to answer. “Money?”

“Gunnar, please.” Tears blurred my vision.

“He was an adult. You were a teenager. The only boyfriend you’ve ever had was someone practically forced on you for money,“ he stated harshly, and I flinched. His head was somewhere else. Wrapped up in everything that had once consumed me.

His eyes focused back on mine, with a softness I hadn’t anticipated replacing the anger. “You didn’t move to Texas after a lot of careful consideration, did you? You said you dated until you were seventeen, and you also moved ten years ago at seventeen.”

I shook my head again, waiting for him to push me away like something disgusting, but instead, he wrapped me in tighter. “Did he do what I think he did?” he murmured, his lips resting against my hair.

I closed my eyes, tears slipping past the barricade that I’d built for ten years. My body quivered as the flood burst forth from the dam that had been so crudely fashioned.

“I still remember the wall I stared at… I couldn’t move, scream…” My voice broke as he pulled me tighter into his chest. “It was like… I knew I was conscious, I was aware of it happening, but my body wasn’t. I laid there for hours afterward, waiting for whatever drug he gave me to wear off.”

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