Page 133 of Morally Gray Daddies

He didn’t grab for it though, instead sitting gingerly beside me on the edge of the bed. “I just want to know one thing, babygirl.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you even miss me? Did you even think about me? Because I thought about you. Every day. Every minute of every day, at first. Because I kept thinking you’d come see me. Then I thought maybe you’d send a letter. But nothing. Ever. Not once. Fuck, you didn’t even send me a “Dear John” letter. You just went on with your life like I didn’t fucking exist. Like I’d never fucking existed. Like I didn’t matter.”

I swallowed hard. He was hitting me right in the guilt. But I’d had my reasons. “How long did you expect me to wait, Damon? You were sentenced to eight years. I had to get out of here. If I didn’t my father would have killed me. You know that. I couldn’t stick around to give him the chance.”

“That explains why you left, why you didn’t come visit. It doesn’t explain why you couldn’t send a fucking letter.”

It didn’t. I knew that. I had my reasons, but they weren’t any he’d understand, so I kept quiet.

That made him madder. Rearing up, he smacked my face hard. “I asked you a fucking question I’ve waited six years to hear the answer to. At least have the fucking decency to tell me now, when we’re face to face.”

“Okay.” I shuddered out a shaky breath, inwardly cursing when I started to cry and felt the wet, hot tears falling down my cheek. I was pissed because this wasn’t the Damon I knew, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of this power over me. “Okay… I just… I was so mad at you. I was mad at you for getting caught, okay? And I was mad at you for doing it in the first place.”

“For you. I was doing it for you. To get money to get you out of here, so we could start our new life. That’s all it was. It wasn’t like I was doing them. I was just selling them.”

“But you didn’t have to, Damon. You didn’t have to; that’s the thing. We had a plan and that wasn’t part of it.”

“Our plan sucked. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t good enough. It was too dangerous. We only had a few hundred bucks between us. It would have lasted a week tops. All I was trying to do was make a quick couple thou, and give us a fighting chance.” He shook his head and his eyes narrowed into slits. “Dammit! It was all for you. Why can’t you see that?”

“I can… I could… kind of… I just… I was mad, Damon. I felt abandoned. I felt betrayed. Why can’t you see that? Why are you so mad?”

It was the wrong thing to say. I realized that the second the words left my lips.

“Why am I mad? Why am I mad? I gave up everything for you. I would have done anything. I wasn’t selling drugs for the fucking fun of it. I was doing it so we’d have a fucking shot of surviving on our own. So we could have a fucking shot at a life together. So you could get away from your POS dad forever. And I went to jail for it. And that’s on me. But all I fucking asked of you was one thing. One fucking thing. That you would wait for me. That you would keep your promise. I was fucking miserable in jail. And fucking lonely. And scared. I was a fucking kid.” He stood up, pacing around the room in a rage while he screamed. He kicked my desk, then grabbed his duffel and rummaged around in it until he pulled out a beer.

I took a deep breath, relieved, hoping the beer would calm him down a bit.

I kept my eyes locked on his pacing form while he popped the bottle open, lifted it to his mouth, and drained it in less than a minute. I couldn’t have anticipated what came next.

I wasn’t prepared for him to stop and come to the side of the bed, where he looked down, towering over my prone form. His lips curled into a sneer, like he hated the sight of me. “You said forever. You said it, but you didn’t mean it, not even for a second, did you?”

Before I could even think to formulate a response, he slapped me again, leaving a matching mark on the opposite cheek this time.

“Lying little bitch. Forever and always. You didn’t even wait until the cell door was locked, did you?”

I choked on a sob. Did he know about Fin? I was pretty sure he didn’t, or he would be much madder, but the direction of his current rant had me second-guessing myself.

“Damon, I’m sorry,” I whispered. What else could I say?

My apology didn’t appease him. He didn’t want to hear it. That much was obvious when he slapped me again, sending my head reeling. I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood.

“Damon!” I cried out. “Please. Please stop. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll make it up to you. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be so angry.”

His eyes were daggers as he looked down at me. “Shut up! Just shut up! You can’t fucking make it up to me now. It’s too late. Why can’t you get that?”

I absolutely did get that and might have told him as much if his next move hadn’t been to rip off a piece of duct tape and secure it over my mouth.

Oh well. At least I couldn’t say the wrong thing now and risk making him angrier. I was helpless, restrained and unable to talk. What was going to happen next?

I didn’t have to wait long for the answer.

A shiver ran down my spine as I watched with wide eyes as he looked from me to the bottle in his hand and back again.

“You can’t say anything now,” he growled. “The way it should have been all along. You can’t open your mouth and make me madder. Why do you have to make me so mad, baby?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside me again, then climbed on top until he was straddling my thighs.

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