Page 197 of Unexpected Hero

Her head pops back off my chest. “That’s why you canceled? I thought it was because work was so busy for you.”

“Well, it’s always hectic there, and that won’t change anytime soon. But I would’ve tried to make the demos if that was the only factor.”

Her chin wobbles, and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. “You told her no because of me?”

“Yeah.” I cup her cheek. “I couldn’t stand the idea of upsetting you or touching another woman like that — even if it wouldn’t be sexual — and I know you aren’t ready to bottom for me.”

“Oh my goodness. That’s so... sweet,” she quavers. “It means so much to me, James. So damn much.”

That fucking name is a poison-tipped dagger to my heart. Especially now, when I’m so close to confessing my feelings for her. But as hermouth presses against mine, her kiss becomes the antidote.

I allow her lips to soothe me, foolishly pretending that we have a future that doesn’t end with a pair of broken hearts, ripped in pieces by the deceit that’s already trying to bury me alive.

Although I know it’s not possible to be happy with Lettie forever, I can imagine what life would be like if it were.

What if I really were James Harris and not Tomer Stillman? Could an average man who works in some corporate IT gig find forever with someone as remarkable as her?

As I pull back from the kiss and study her perfect face, breathtakingly beautiful as always, I realize no version of me would ever be deserving of Violet’s love. Not even the carefully curated persona I choose to show her could capture her heart for very long.

It’ll end soon. She’ll get tired of me, or I’ll fuck up one too many times.

My father was right. No one could ever tolerate me for long. Not even someone as kind and accepting as her.

So what’s the harm in living inside the fantasy a little while longer?

I press her cheek back to my chest, tucking her head under my chin, and resign myself to make the most of this while it lasts.

After a few more minutes of blissful silence, with only the muted music from the club drowning out the sound of our breathing, she clears her throat. “The reason I clammed up is the same reason I cried that night at the hotel.”

A jarring memory of her calling me trash attempts to yank me from the stolen peacefulness of this moment, but I force it away. Given how she’s treated me ever since then, she didn’t mean it that night.

“What’s the reason, sweetness?”

“You know how I mentioned before that I was raised by a very religious family?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it was mostly my mama,err, grandmama, I should say.”

What does her grandmother have to do with her crying the first time I made her come? Rather than rush her to answer, I’ll let her guide the conversation.

She doesn’t make me wait long. “So she was much more than merely strict with me because of her evangelical religious beliefs. I didn’t see it at the time since it was all I knew, but as an adult, I realize the way she treated me crossed over into abuse territory.”

My mind reels as I think about what she might mean by that. What type of abuse? Was it sexual? Physical? Emotional?

What the fuck happened to her?

I inhale sharply, trying to rein in my initial reaction — which is to pelt her with questions until I know enough to exact revenge on her behalf. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

“The way I was raised probably wouldn’t be considered abusive by most people, so I’ll understand if you don’t agree with me when I’m done explaining. Aside from my best friend, I don’t talk about it with anyone because I know they’ll think I’m being overdramatic or a snowflake.”

I can’t let her continue that train of thought a second more. “Lettie, it’s not for me to judge whether it’s abuse or not. If you saw it as abuse, I’ll see it that way too. And if anyone ever challenged you on that, they were wrong.”

Like earlier, her hold around my waist tightens. It reassures me that I said the right thing.

“It boils down to this. Misguided and extreme religious beliefs were used as a tool to exert total control over me. And in response, they formed a type of heightened state of anxiety in me. Always. I lived in constant fear. Everything I did could potentially jeopardize my eternal soul or bring shame to me and my entire family. I could lose my way with just one errant thought. One action could set me on a course to loneliness and suffering. And this pressure wasn’t only from Mama, but from the rest of the church, community, and the institution as a whole.”

Unable to form words, I stroke her shoulder and kiss the top of her head.

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