Page 64 of Fast Kill

She hesitated only a moment before continuing. “They weren’t bad people. They just made poor choices and then their addictions took over.”

His fingers stroked lazily up the length of her spine. “Were you close to them when you were little?”

“I think so. My mom especially. I remember her making birthday cakes for me and turning off all the lights before she lit the candles and carried them to the kitchen table while she sang happy birthday. And the three of us liked going to movies together. Dad and I would always share some popcorn. On Saturdays, he and I would get up early in the morning and watch cartoons so my mom could sleep in longer.” The thought brought a bittersweet smile to her face. It had been so long since she’d thought about them, or those times.

“I’m glad you’ve got some good memories of them.”

“Me too. I missed them for a long time, but I think rather than mourning the loss of my parents, I mourned the loss of what could have been if they hadn’t been addicts. You know?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

A few beats passed while he waited for her to continue. Taylor hesitated about whether to keep talking. The next admission was hard for her. Other than Dillon and a few other people who’d worked on her case, no one knew what had led to her being taken into foster care. She’d made sure of it.

In all these years, she’d never told a soul about what had happened to her, not even Charlie. That inability—or unwillingness—to open up to anyone about it was part of the reason she’d never thought she could have a relationship with a man. At least, not a healthy one, due to her trust issues.

Logan had changed all that. She wanted him enough to exorcise her demons once and for all and lay herself completely bare to him. Even though it scared her to death.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine,” he murmured.

“No, I…want to.” And that said it all, didn’t it? She trusted Logan. And she had carried this burden for far too long as it was. This shameful, dirty secret that had stained her soul and all but obliterated her self-worth.

She swallowed before continuing, feeling exposed and vulnerable. “After my mom died of an overdose, my dad started using more and more. He went into a sharp downward spiral. At some point it got so bad that he stopped going into work. He would stay in bed with his door locked and I barely saw him. Eventually he ran out of money. Sometimes I went a full day or two without anything to eat.”

Logan made a gruff sound and wrapped both arms around her, strong and secure. “How old were you?”

“Eleven.” She cleared her throat, the protectiveness of his embrace giving her the strength to keep going. Now that she’d started telling him, she wanted to get the rest of it out. “He started bringing people home with him. They’d shoot up together in the living room or kitchen. He’d make me go to my room first, so I wouldn’t see it, but I snuck out a few times and saw him. Sometimes various dealers would show up at our place.”

The shame started to close in on her again, thick and suffocating. She shook it off.I am worthy.

Her past did not define her. She’d been a child. She wasn’t to blame for what had happened. And she trusted Logan. Trusted that he cared about her and wouldn’t judge her.

“Then one night, my father couldn’t pay for his next hit. He was desperate. He’d sold nearly everything we had that could be pawned to support his habit. The dealer came that time, and there was nothing. Nothing except me.”

Logan sucked in a harsh breath, his entire body going rigid.

She squeezed her eyes shut, kept her cheek against his chest and just said it, wanting to just say it and get it over with. “The dealer asked if he could have half an hour alone with me in my room in exchange for the heroin. My father said yes.” Drawing in a bolstering breath, she ran her fingertips over the center of Logan’s wide chest.

“So while he was getting his next fix, the dealer came into my room. At first, I didn’t realize what was going on. But the way he looked at me was wrong. He came over to the bed and grabbed me.” The memories bombarded her like a string of flashbulbs bursting in her mind. Vivid. Terrifying. “I started screaming and fought him. He pinned me down but I bit and scratched and kicked. I knocked over my dresser. It hit the wall and my lamp broke on the floor. Thank God the walls in that building were thin, because my elderly neighbor who happened to be the superintendent heard me. He came over and broke the door down, dragged the guy off me and carried me out of there.”

Logan didn’t say anything, but the tension in his muscles told her exactly how upset he was.

She was silent a moment, letting the horror of the memory fade under the comforting warmth of Logan’s embrace. “The police came with a social worker to take me away. The last time I saw my father, he was in cuffs being loaded into the back of a patrol car. He looked right at me, but he was so high I don’t think he recognized me or realized what he’d done. I heard he died in jail a few months later. Got his hands on some potent heroin inside, and OD’d.”

A resounding silence filled the room as she finished, pressing in on her. She couldn’t look Logan in the face, not wanting to see the pity or the anger that had to be written on his face.

But he didn’t say anything. He just rolled to his back and took her with him so that she was lying flush against his body, and wrapped his arms snug around her. Then he pressed his face into her hair and held her that way in the quiet.

A lump formed in her throat and her eyes stung. The sheer relief of his acceptance and support after what she’d just told him meant the world to her. She felt lighter inside now that she’d finally opened up to someone about her past.

“You sorry you asked?” she said quietly a minute later.

“No. But it kills me to think of you going through that. You were just a kid.”

She nodded. “It sucked. I wouldn’t go back and live through that again for all the money in the world.”

“No kidding.”

She was quiet a moment, collecting her thoughts. “For a long time I felt like they’d both abandoned me. That they must not have really wanted or loved me if the heroin was more important to them. It made me believe I was unlovable.”

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