Page 53 of Can You Take It?

I can’t stop thinking what will happen when the truth finally comes to light, when the secrets can no longer be contained, and when I’ll have to face the demons of my past head-on.

Richard suddenly pulls me close. It’s unexpected, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine. For a moment, I forget about everything that haunts me, everything that I thought I hated about him. He has this way of making me forget, of making me feel something other than the disgust that usually consumes me.

I raise an eyebrow, my usual defenses kicking in, but he doesn’t let go. His grip is possessive, and a bit dominating.

“Where do we stand, Izel?”

“Well, you’ve held me captive,” I say with a sass, “and right now, I want to break free of this damn house.”

He doesn’t let go, and his grip tightens a little. “Not happening,” he says. “Make a conversation.”

“What do you want to talk about, Agent?”

His eyes bore into mine. “How about you start with how you got that scar?”

The question hits like a punch, and I break free from his grip, turning away and heading towards my room. My heart races as I put distance between us, the walls of the house suddenly feeling too close, too confining. His footsteps follow me.

“Izel,” he calls after me. “Talk to me.”

I want to push him away, but there’s a part of me that’s tired of running, tired of being alone with my secrets.

I stop at the threshold of my room with my back to him. “I can’t have kids.”

Richard’s silence is deafening, and I can feel his presence behind me, closer than before. I turn to face him and he stepscloser. His hand reaches out to trace the scar through my clothes. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid of hurting me more. “How did it happen?”

“A knife,” I mutter, at least that’s the truth.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for more. I swallow hard, forming the lie on my lips.

“I was a kid. I... I did this to myself.”

His eyes narrow slightly, not convinced. “You did this to yourself?”

I nod, the lie bitter on my tongue. “Yes. I was playing with knives. I sneaked into the kitchen, opened the drawer, and took out the biggest knife I could find. I started waving it around, pretending I was a pirate or a hero from one of my storybooks. But then, I slipped. The floor was wet from the rain I’d tracked in, and I lost my balance. I tried to catch myself, but the knife was still in my hand. It sliced through the air and caught my stomach.”

Richard frowns, his hand still tracing the length of the scar. “Izel, that doesn’t make sense. How could a kid do something like this to herself?”

I pull away. “This is why we can’t have a conversation, Richard! Your nature of interrogating gets in the way. You don’t know when to stop.”

He looks taken aback, but he doesn’t back down. “I just want to understand. I want to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” I snap, turning away. “I don’t need you to fix me.”

“Maybe not,” he says softly. “But I want to be here for you. I want to know what happened so I can support you.”

I feel the tears welling up, but I know they won't fall. “You can’t support me if you don’t trust what I’m telling you.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just... I know there’s more. I care about you, Izel. I really do. I just need to understand what you’ve been through.”

“Why do you care?”

He hesitates, his gaze softening. “Because I lo... like you.”

Was he just about to say what I thought he was about to? I shake my head, refusing to believe it. There is no way he can love me. But he did say he likes me. Nobody has ever said that to me before.

“You... you like me?”

He nods, his eyes full of sincerity. “Yes. I like you. A lot. More than I probably should. I care about you. And I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”

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