Page 19 of The Marine

“It was him! It was that boy of yours! He killed him,” Mom screamed. “Aidan Black killed him.”

What did I know?

I was eighteen.

And hehadpunched him so hard that Dad had been unconscious for over a minute.

The next day, he was dead.

Trying to get it all straight in my head even now is difficult. Back then, I was nursing swollen windpipes and a bruised neck. Compliments of the man lying dead on the floor of our living room.

My dad.

I’d been dating Aidan for months. I thought he was the one. He was everything I’d ever dreamed a man could be. More, if I’m honest.

He was everything my father wasn’t. Protective, caring, attentive, loving. More importantly, he hadn’t hurt me or shown any evidence he would be like that.

Aidan’s southern manners had him opening every damn door he could find for me. He’d bring me flowers, take me out for dinner and to the movies, and...all of it.

My father hated him.

He gave no reason. He just said he didn’t trust him, and he was too old for me. It was sort of true. Aidan was twenty-three, and I was eighteen at the time. An enormous gap at that age.

But I didn’t agree.

I’d turned eighteen the day before I met Aidan, and he had never pressured me to do anything.

Sure, we had been frustrated, but he kept sayingno, I want you to be sure.I wasn’t a virgin, and I kept telling him that, but he still saidwhen we do this, I want you to know you are mine forever, Briar Sutton.

Be still my heart.

So, we’d walked through parks, spent hours at the beach where we’d swim and play volleyball. We’d stay out late and stare up at the stars.

We even shared our dreams.

“What do you want to do when you grow up?” Aidan asked, threading his fingers through mine.

Get away from my father.

That was the only dream I had. I spent most of my life thinking of ways not to trigger him so he didn’t hurt me or Mom.

People in happy and safe homes could never understand the mental space it constantly takes up. You don’t have the luxury of dreaming much.

In other words, it’s called survival mode.

But when I did dream, I imagined working in an office being a super organized personal assistant. I wanted to be married and have two children who ran to the door to greet their daddy when he came home.

I thought that man could be Aidan.

And he’d be tall, broad, and gorgeous in his uniform, kissing me as he scooped up the kids. Then late at night we’d make love quietly and he’d hold me in his arms as I fell asleep.

I didn’t tell him all of that, of course, but I was sure we were on the same page.

I never questioned whether he was loyal or how he felt. I could see it in his eyes.

One day we were taking a long romantic drive and ended up at Venice Beach. We got ice cream and walked along the sand, the wind making my hair slide through the chocolate. Aidan kept trying to save it and in the end, the scoop fell into the sand.

“Damn it.” Aidan had grunted, and I stopped dead in my tracks. An automatic reaction.

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