Page 89 of Brick

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

Liv

Liv gave up her attempts to marshal her thoughts into lesson plans as a knock came at her door. When she opened it up, Brick stood outside, his expression a blank mask.

“Can I come in?” His voice was stilted, formal.

She ushered him in and led him to the sofa. “I’ve been so worried. I was afraid to call you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to face you. I’m still not, but here I am.” He didn’t so much as glance at her while he spoke. His gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.

His dead stare looked so much like the one she’d seen at the beginning—and later—the end of the video. It was like he’d sealed himself off to what was happening; he’d resigned himself to his fate.

“I guess you know I’ve seen the videos.”

He nodded his head.

“You know what was on them?”

“Some of it. I’ve got a pretty good idea about the rest.” His fingers dug into the coarse denim covering his thighs. “I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was.” He never turned his gaze from the wall.

It only made the pressure on her lungs intensify. It hurt to breathe. “Look at me,” she whispered. When he ignored her, she spoke in a louder voice. “Look at me.”

“I can’t!” he roared, but his actions betrayed his words. His wide, frantic eyes swung to her face. “How can I look at you when you’ve seen—when you know?” There was so much anguish in his question. The blank expression replaced by something twisted and broken.

She fought the threatening tears. “I already knew what you did for him. The business parts.” Though nothing could have prepared her for seeing it. “You’ve been up front with me about the violence from day one.”

“But not the sex. I never told you I—” His big body shuddered.

She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

With a deep sigh, Brick drew to his feet, then pushed his shoulders back. “I’ll go.”

No. Everything inside of her cried out in protest. If he walked out the door, he might never come back. “Wait.” She leapt off the sofa and grabbed his arm. Pain gripped her chest. She couldn’t shake the image of him in the bed with those women…and that man.

But he hadn’t wanted it—any sign of pleasure on his face in the video evaporated the moment Sucre touched him. Only the mask remained. He may not have let his misery show, but she had no doubt about what she’d seen. The idea of this breaking him, of it breaking them…

Not going to happen.

She shoved it all down. “Do you want to be with me?” Her voice sounded surprisingly level to her own ears.

He finally looked at her. His eyes were haunted. “More than anything. The worst part is I have no idea what kind of shit he’ll put me through next. I can’t ask you to live with that. I can barely live with it myself.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to give up on this.” Her hand slid down his arm to grip his palm. “I don’t want to give up on us.”

“I’m not worth it,” he whispered. His hopelessness strengthened her resolve.

“You’re wrong. Would you blame me if someone forced me into sex?”

His voice hardened. “It’s not the same.”

She tugged on his hand. “The hell it’s not. You don’t need my forgiveness, or my acceptance. You need to forgive yourself. He raped you.”

“Did you see a gun to my head?” he shouted. “I’m bigger. I’m stronger—”

“And he’s controlled you since you were a kid. He. Raped. You.” She stepped toward him, and he stepped back.

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