“What do you mean?”
The more I healed, the more I remembered. I’d done some research, finding a book on suppressed traumatic memories at work in the fall. I needed something to explain the dreams.
I looked up, finding Grayson leaning forward on his elbows, his plate moved to the side, his attention on me. His hands were folded in front of him, his brow furrowed. “Carrie, what do you mean you were bli—”
“Robert was mean to me,” I confessed suddenly.
A shadow fell over Grayson’s features, and I couldn’t handle it. I looked back down to my lap. “After you left six months ago, I started having dreams, but they didn’t seem like dreams, because they felt familiar. They were all about Robert and me—not the big moments in our life that everyone saw. No, these dreams were about the little moments, the ones that happened behind closed doors.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me?” Grayson asked, an edge to his voice.
“Because what I’m about to tell you will make you wish you were the one who chopped my husband into pieces,” I rasped, looking at him.
His nostrils flared, but he said nothing. I dropped my eyes again. “You’ve seen my file, my old pictures. It’s no secret I used to be smaller—thinner. As a kid, I was always bigger than the rest of my friends, and I didn’t think anything about it. That all changed when I turned ten years old. My father hired dietitians to monitor my weight. I lost the weight and my father was satisfied. When I hit puberty two years later, my hormones took control, and I gained the weight back. I gained curves. My breasts came in, then my hips and butt widened. I couldn’t stop it. There was nothing I could do.”
I raised my head again to find him in the same position, rage burning in his eyes. “He starved me,” I whispered.
Grayson’s eyes sliced to look out the window.
“I was allowed a small lunch and an even smaller dinner. I don’t even think I was eating a thousand calories a day. My father locked the fridge and the cabinets,” I explained, my voice shaking. “When I got to high school, I was thin as a twig, and everyone called me ‘Tiny Carrie.’ Then, the years passed, and I got used to the hunger—to the pain in my stomach. My body adapted, and in college, my father introduced me to Robert, who was one of his colleague’s sons. Robert was charming; we had the perfect love story.”
Those dark eyes collided with mine as a muscle jumped in his cheek. He sighed through his nose and tipped his head, urging me to continue.
I swallowed. “I think I was so use to the abuse from my father that when Robert started repeating the same patterns, I didn’t recognize it. That book discusses the many different ways suppressed memories can pop back up in your life. The dreams—the memories—were never about him starving me, but he made all my meals. He picked all my outfits. He made sure I was working out in the morning for at least two hours. I was his doll, not his wife. He also yelled at me. A lot. More so towards the end. I was never good enough for him, and I was so blind, I figured that was how a man was supposed to love a woman. It was all I ever knew.”
A single tear slipped down my cheek, and Grayson’s face twisted. I quickly wiped it away before moving on. “After his death, I was so overwhelmed with pain and grief. My mind was lost—I was lost. I thought that it was—that was the only kind of love the world had to offer me. After my...attempt, I was sent to the rehabilitation facility, where they pumped me full of medication but also gave me a decent amount of food. The weight came back naturally, and by the time I escaped, I’d never felt healthier.”
Grayson bit off a curse, shaking his head. “Jesus.”
“What I told you months ago during that first night about me being in pain was the truth. I was in pain, but not from love. The longer I’ve been gone, the more I get to know myself, the more I realize what Robert and I had wasn’t love. That man didn’t love me, Grayson. I was nothing more than an asset to him.”
He bent his head, inhaling a deep breath, but I didn’t wait. I kept going, needing to get all of it out.
“The first time you looked at me, I’d never felt more beautiful in my entire life,” I croaked, my voice thick. “The first time you kissed me, I’d never felt more alive—more wanted. When you didn’t come back, I mourned the fairytale I thought you could give me. I was so hopeful, Grayson, and I didn’t even know your name. After months of waiting, I wanted to feel that again, and I’d looked at the life I’d built for myself and the people in it…” I looked out the window, watching the snow starting to fall. “I took a chance on Leo because I had to move on from you.”
“Carrie…”
My head snapped back to him. “I need to apologize.”
He shook his head. “There is nothing you need to apologize for, Sunshine.”
“I hope to God I didn’t hurt you,” I breathed, my chest aching. “I would never be able to forgive myself if I hurt you, Grayson.”
Suddenly, he was on his feet, the chair slamming into the wall behind him as I jumped. He stalked around the table and yanked my chair out before grabbing my face in both his hands. His lips brushed against mine softly as he promised, “You didn’t hurt me.”
Relief washed over me. “You don’t think—”
“No,” he cut me off, answering the question before it left my lips. “The only thing I think is how goddamn lucky I am to have found you.”
Present.
After that, he gave me a kiss and got to his side of the conversation.
Leo’s death.
Grayson went on to tell me that his team took care of the body, making it look like Leo went back out to sea, where they dumped his body into the icy water and abandoned his boat. After this news was delivered, I waited for the shock to come, but it never did. These men had done this before, that much was clear, and I knew this would never come back on me.
Now, there was just the matter of the town, and Sarah and Michael.