Page 98 of Shattered Veil

“You were only fourteen,” I whispered, perhaps more to myself than to her.

She just nodded, continuing somberly, “I don’t think he’d be here if he stayed. After mom died, he spent more time bleeding than not. Carter was…he just didn’t stop. He wouldn’t have stopped.”

The knowledge was gut-wrenching, and she watched me carefully as her words sank in. There was no misunderstanding them—she truthfully believed that their father, Carter, would have eventually beaten Liam to the point of no return. And while I knew through context clues within memories of months past that he was abusive—and it was clear that Cassie knew that I knew that—I hadn’t fathomed the extent of it.

I don’t think I could have without the explicit explanation.

For the second time in the last week, I thought back to the moment Cassie and I had met over the summer—when I had arrived at her home with the remainder of the group in tow. Liam’s blond head was matted with red, a result of a car accident. She hadn’t known—no one had explained the turn of events—and I recalled how she stormed across her front lawn. How her long, tan legs had marched up to her brother. How anger had contorted her pretty face as she roughly examined the injuries on his scalp.

She had thought that Carter had done the damage, then.

And it wasn’t until now that I realized that it wasn’t a stretch of her imagination in the least. There was no doubt in my mind that she had seen her brother in a similarly beaten state at the hands of their father, and I felt my stomach churn at the thought. Liam’s face flashed in my mind: his smile lopsided and typically carefree, and an old, thin, white scar stretching over the left side of his lips.

I had seen it before, sure. It was just that I never considered it to be a trait that identified him. I considered what could have caused it—who could have caused it—and I knew there was no possibility that it would go unnoticed for me from here on out.

Cassie spoke once more, “He wasn’t really gone when he moved, either. He drove back to check on me constantly…once a week, for the longest time until I was older. No idea how the fuck he afforded the gas for that.”

She said the last sentence with a bittersweet chuckle, and try as I might to allow the sound to comfort me, it didn’t. My throat was tight to the point that I wondered if the anguish would spread and I would cry on her behalf—on Liam’s behalf. I didn’t. I simply blinked as I let the reality of her past wash over me, and I debated my response for a beat before hoarsely questioning:

“Where did you live?”

As if she were unsure why I would ask that, she returned, “Hmm?”

“I mean…you didn’t live with your father,” I rephrased. “Right?”

“Oh…no, I did,” she told me.

“Did he ever—”

“Hit me?” She bitterly hummed, “Mhm,” but didn’t elaborate any further. My teeth were clenched as she noted, “I steered clear of Carter if he was in a mood. It never really got bad for me. Got a lock for my door. I was fine, Jay.”

I nodded, forcing myself to swallow any further remarks because she didn’t need my sorries or my anger. I had plenty of it to give, but I knew that it was unnecessary. She also, remarkably, didn’t seem to need my comfort. The story, even when coming straight from her own mouth, didn’t cause her to crumble as it should have. Her tears from earlier were long gone, and it was just…her past. Lived so long ago that it was a simple fact rather than a sordid tale. I brushed her cheek with my thumb, she leaned into it, and I noted:

“You’re such a strong woman, Cassie.”

She smiled ever so slightly. “And yet…I feel like you could break me so easily.”

The acknowledgment of whatever soft spot she had for me warmed me through.

I moved my head softly from side to side, murmuring, “Not a chance, Darlin’,” because she was anything but breakable.

However, the walls that she naturally piled high for those who weren’t close to her weren’t symbolic of her strength. They were her defense…and that wasn’t to say that her metaphorical walls were constructed of a sturdy brick that had inevitably crumbled to the ground. I hadn’t chipped away at her, and she hadn’t been bent so roughly that rock laid in a pile at our feet. No, instead, it was clear that she had willingly lowered them for me. Any vulnerability that she shared with me wasn’t a slip-up or a crack in her armor…it was a gift. Something to be earned.

I knew this already, but the reminder made my chest ache, and I silently vowed to wear that badge with honor as I traced the edges of her cheek with my fingertips. She had broken me long, long ago…and truthfully, my body had begged for it. I needed to be disintegrated—splintered—shattered into glass pieces so tiny that I was turned to dust. I was a crystalline powder, and all of our hardships aside, it felt so goddamn good to be able to blow in the wind with her.

Cassie wouldn’t break, though. I wouldn’t allow it because she needed the control. She may have lowered her walls, but she was trusting me to keep her whole, and I would do just that.

I would keep her whole.

I pondered the thought while I should have slept. Kept the promise that I made to myself ripe in my mind as I laid beside her. Attempted to silently communicate the feeling through gently peppered kisses across her face to wake her when it was time for me to leave for work. Cassie had laid under the plush green comforter, the material pulled all the way to her cheeks. Her hair was splayed out on the pillows, tangles galore, and despite the fact that her eyes had fluttered open when I forced myself out of bed—despite the fact that she had given me a wistful smile when I kissed her good morning—despite the fact that I had murmured in her ear that I was leaving for work in approximately thirty minutes, and I had reminded her that she needed to go across the hall to her brother’s apartment so she wasn’t alone—she looked to have fallen back asleep.

“Cas,” I whispered, but she didn’t budge. I gently brushed the side of her face, and she nuzzled into my palm. I called to her again, “Cassie,” and her only reply was a sleep-filled groan. A smile pulled at my lips. “Darlin’, you gotta get up to go to Liam’s. I have to get to work.”

Eyes remaining closed, she nearly slurred, “Get back under the covers and call me Darlin’ again.”

“I would, but I have to go,” I laughed. “Up. Dressed. Across the hall.”

With a hefty grumble, she obeyed. Through heavy-lidded eyes, she haphazardly pulled on the comfortable clothing I had inevitably stripped from her the night before. I stole a last kiss from her before we opened my front door, we shared appealingly domestic adieus, and Cassie murmured that she would see me when I got home. She let herself into the apartment across the hall with the key Liam had given her long ago, I made a move for my car, and we went our separate ways.

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