Page 38 of Passion Restored

She tugged at his hand, and he let her go so she could pace. “My mom was—is—an alcoholic. She was a functional one, though, so no one really caught on that she was plastered most of the day rather than sober. She freaking drove me to school with a flask of vodka tucked in her purse, but no one cared. No one noticed that her smile was always a little too bright at PTA meetings and that she never actually fulfilled her promises about bake sales and crap like that because she was too drunk to do it.”

She let out a breath, wrapping her arms around herself. Only the scent of Owen’s shirt kept her settled, and that worried her. But soon he’d be gone. Soon, he’d know what kind of person she was, what kind of people she came from, and then she wouldn’t have to worry about the way she wanted to be near him too much. She wouldn’t have to worry that she’d end up turning into the monster her mother was…wouldn’t have to worry she’d turn Owen into the shell her father had been.

She met Owen’s gaze, but he kept to his word and didn’t say anything. But she saw the fury in his eyes. The anger. Yet she couldn’t see pity. She’d expected pity. She’d have been able to fight back pity. The fury? That she had no idea what to do with.

“She always yelled at me when we were home. Or when she wasn’t yelling, it was that slurred calm voice that told me that bad things were coming. She hit me for the first time when I was six or seven. Slapped me right in the face because I needed a permission slip signed, and she hadn’t been in the mood. She never stopped hitting me until I moved out. Every time I tried to fight back, she made it worse. And no one did a fucking thing.”

When he finally spoke, it surprised her. “Where was your dad?”

She snorted; that same pain a hollow ache that never seemed to heal. She was a damn nurse, a healer, and yet she couldn’t heal herself. She didn’t want to. “Dear old Dad was there the whole time. He just didn’t care. He watched her beat the shit out of me after calling me a whore and a lazy piece of crap, and he didn’t do a single thing. He just didn’t care anymore. She’d broken him long before she got to me. And yet he should have cared. He should have done something. But he didn’t. He never fucking did. Then when I was fourteen, he just packed up everything and left. He fucking left me alone with her. Mom changed our names back to her maiden one the next year, but I still haven’t heard from him. He could be dead for all I know, but hell, it’s not like he’d have ever found a way to tell me if he’s alive or not. So, yeah, relationships end up like that, Owen. At least with my blood, they do.”

“Lizzie, that’s on them. I could kill them for what they did to you, but that’s on them.”

“But they used to be happy. Then they had me and Mom started drinking. She hated the way she looked after the C-section. Hated the fucking scar and told me that often. Her boobs sagged after breastfeeding me, though she’d only done it a week before saying it hurt too badly. I went straight to formula after that, apparently. She told me she never had any time to do anything because she’d been strapped with a little blonde leech. And then, of course, Dad apparently didn’t want her anymore after the baby, or so she said. So she would scream that she had to find men who actually wanted her since my dad was a useless piece of shit.”

“Jesus Christ,” Owen growled. “She told you all of that? How old were you?”

Liz shrugged, picking lint off his shirt. “Seven or so the first time, I think. I don’t really remember since it’s been most of my life. She was an abusive drunk who loved to throw words at Dad and me. Then when words weren’t enough, she’d throw things at Dad since he didn’t fight back. He’d been raised not to hit women, you see. But he never protected me. He just watched as she hit me with the belt, with her hand. I think the only time he stepped in was to tell her not to use the crystal glass she’d been drinking vodka out of on me. But that was probably because I’d end up in the hospital, or hell, because the crystal had been his mother’s and given to them on their wedding day. I don’t know.”

Owen stood then, coming toward her, and she held out her hands, shaking her head. “Lizzie. None of that is on you. They should have gone to jail long before they ever had the chance to hit you a second time. Your dad too, Liz.”

She pressed her lips together, her body oddly numb. “That’s not the end of it, though. I can’t be in a relationship, Owen. Things always get fucked up if I try.”

He took another step forward. She took one back. “But we’re not them. We’re not any of them.”

“But I’m my mother’s daughter. My father’s daughter. You see? When I was seventeen, I got to go to college since I worked my ass off to graduate early. I was smart, but not smart enough to get out of the city we grew up in. I found a boy who was nineteen, and I thought he liked me. Turned out he just liked my boobs or whatever. I found my mother fucking him in my dorm room two days after I gave the guy my virginity. I told the guy to get out, and my mom patted him on the cheek, telling him he was a good boy who needed to look higher for prime pussy. She was so drunk at that point, I don’t think she could even put together sentences beyond that.”

“That fucking little prick,” Owen growled. He moved toward her so quickly, she didn’t have a chance to back away. When he cupped her face, she didn’t cry, she was all out of tears it seemed. “Lizzie, that’s on pencil dick. Not you. None of this is your fault.”

She blinked, unable to really hear him, not when she was in the past with her mother. Alone, so alone. So cold. “She beat the shit out of me that day, too. I don’t even know why.” Her voice sounded hollow to her ears, but maybe that was because she was so far away. “I dropped out of college the next day and moved the meager things I owned to another city and went to school there instead. The school wasn’t as good, but without my mother’s lack of income to get me grants and financial aid, I couldn’t really afford anything better. But I met Tessa, so I guess everything worked out in the end.”

His thumb traced her cheek. “And you haven’t been with anyone since then?”

“Not in a relationship. I’ve had sex because that’s all there is for me, Owen. That’s all there can be. My mother used to be a nice, sweet girl before she met my father. My dad had apparently been a gentleman before my mother went off the rails. They broke each other, and I refuse to do that to anyone.” She stepped back. “I refuse to do that to you.”

He shook his head, his eyes sad—yet they held no pity for her. “Lizzie, that’s not how things work. We aren’t our parents.”

“Your parents were amazing, though. So you can’t really say anything.”

“My parents worked themselves to the bone for us and neglected themselves. I don’t want to be my parents.”

“Don’t compare them,” she said softly. She’d tried to snap at him, but she found herself unable to find the energy. “Just go. Please. I just need you to go.”

In the distance, she heard the front door open and knew Tessa had come home from work. Liz could talk to Tessa if she needed to, but right then, she just wanted to be alone.

Owen studied her face before slowly lowering his hands. “I’m going.” Her heart splintered. “But I’m not going for good. I’m not leaving you, Liz. I’m letting you breathe. But I’m coming back, damn it. I’m coming back.” With that, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving her in her bedroom and walking out in only his jeans.

She heard him murmur to Tessa, but Liz couldn’t hear the words. She just slowly slid to her knees, her eyes unseeing, her senses dulled. Dimly, she heard Tessa move into the room, barely felt the other woman’s hands on her shoulders.

But when her best friend held her close, Liz finally did the one thing she’d promised herself she would never do.

She wept.

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