Page 90 of Crave Me

Until the same damn thing happened to me, and I realized how hard it is to let even the bad things in your life go.

I don’t tell Evan this. I can’t. Bryant doesn’t belong here with us, especially not in bed.

“I can’t imagine how much that hurt you,” Evan says, his fingers threading along my scalp. “I would never betray you.”

He thinks we’re only talking about my father, so I take a breath and leave all traces of Bryant behind, focusing on the root of my pain. Daddy issues are real, and they can really screw a gal up. I’m living proof.

“It didn’t hurt,” I admit, causing him to frown. “At least not in the way that you think. I hurt for my mother, and brothers. Like with your mother, they needed him to be more than he was. God, they needed it so bad, it tore them apart when he died.” I push up on my elbow. “But I knew who he was. So when he died, I didn’t cry. That man who just left the earth had left us a long time ago, long before he had a heart attack in his mistress’s bed.”

“Jesus, Wren.”

“Yeah. That’s how he went. And everyone in the old neighborhood knew it.” It didn’t matter that my father left my mother his military and post office pensions, and every last dime he had in his will. No amount of money could erase the humiliation he caused her and us, which is why I say what I do. “I was glad he was gone. I could handle hearing my mother crying in her bedroom at night for the man she believed she loved. It sucked, but I could handle it. What I couldn’t handle was her crying over the man she needed him to be, but who couldn’t be bothered to try.”

“I can relate,” he says.

“I know you can,” I tell him. It’s such a shit topic. That doesn’t stop me from smiling when I realize how much he understands, and how good it feels to have him beside me.

“My brothers never had a real father,” I say, well aware how soft my voice becomes. “But I was lucky. As much as they make me crazy, I had six boys who grew into men I can count on. And because of my mother’s love, they became better than anything my father ever was.”

“They did,” he agrees. “And better husbands because of it.”

“Yeah,” I say, realizing how true that is.

In the quiet that flows between us, I think we’re done. But when something shifts in Evan’s gaze, I know there’s more he needs to share.

“My father, like your mother, always stood by me. Instead of teaching me to throw a ball, he taught me chess and helped me build my first robot. He’d play old movies in his den when he was too weak to take me to the cinema, and read to me every night.” His voice trails as his mind appears to wander. “He was a gifted storyteller, captivating me with books like The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and To Kill a Mockingbird.” He adjusts his hold, to better see me. “I didn’t have siblings to lean on or guide me. And as you know, I didn’t have a mother I could depend on. Yet my father looked after me and protected me. In spite of his ill health and age, he was always there for me.”

“He sounds like a sweetie,” I say, reaching out to stroke his face. “What was his name?”

A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Alfred.”

My hand hovers over his skin, the pure love in his tone freezing me in place. “Alfred,” I whisper, a lump building in my throat.

I didn’t cry when I told him about my father and how badly he hurt my mother and brothers. Crying . . . it’s not something I let myself do. It takes too much out me, exposing every stitch of vulnerability I try to hide.

But I want to now. Around Evan, I am vulnerable. I’m that woman who lets everything out rather than tuck it away where it’s safe. I’m the person who falls into his arms, worried he’ll one day let go. And I’m that innocent little girl who once believed men can be loving, good, and honorable, regardless of all the wrong she sees them doing around her.

Evan could have been “ruined” like he claimed. He could have spent years fucking over women instead of creating technology that can save them. He could have sailed through life living off his inheritance, rather than depleting it to save his father’s legacy. And he could have run for the hills when my family found him half-naked in my kitchen. But he didn’t. All because his father loved him like a real daddy should, and made him into the man beside me.

“I love you,” I say before I can stop myself.

Evan doesn’t move. Hell, neither do I. I’ve been naked with him more times than I can count, and have given him more than I thought that I could ever give, but I’ve never felt as naked as I do now.

“Wren . . .” he says, appearing at a loss.

“I’m not saying this because I feel sorry for you because of the way you were treated.” I bite back a curse and momentarily avert my gaze, wishing this shit wasn’t so hard to say—not to him. For once, I finally have what I’ve dreamed of, and I need him to know.

“I love you,” I say again. “This thing between you and me, it’s what I’ve looked for my whole life.”

He smiles, his grin widening until I think he’s ready to laugh at me. He doesn’t. What he does do is lift me to him and kiss me, his tongue flicking generously over mine. I pull away, only for his head to dip against my neck and for him to nuzzle me with kisses.

I laugh because he’s tickling me, and being so damn sexy, even though—son of a bitch—

I’m actually saying something that means something, for once. He chuckles against my throat and finds that ticklish spot on my backside, making me jerk. He finds it again, this time making me jump and bust out laughing.

“Evan, for fuck’s sake. I’m trying to be serious.”

“I know,” he says, pulling us into a sitting position.

---