Page 80 of Past Due

I wasn’t sure I wanted that, but he didn’t give me a chance to argue. He ducked into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving me to snuggle back down into the bed. The longer he was gone, the more I wanted him close to me.

When he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, I made my decision. Holding out my hand, I said, “Come to bed.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” I wiggled my fingers, and he grasped my hand and interlaced our fingers. I tugged him closer. “Hold me.”

He blew out a relieved breath and cast aside his towel. He crawled into bed with me and curled up against my back. He slipped both arms around me and hauled me in close. He pressed his cheek to mine, and I inhaled a cleansing breath, feeling finally complete after a night and morning apart.

We stayed that way for a while, quiet and pensive. It felt so good to share his body heat, to have his skin pressed against mine. Steady. Secure. Safe.

“My mother hated me,” Besian confessed unexpectedly. “She hated all of us, but me the most.”

Unsure how to answer that or if he even wanted me to, I stayed quiet. Very tenderly, I stroked his arm, letting him know I was listening if he wanted to keep talking.

“Our father was an absolute bastard. He and his family had a longstanding feud with our mother’s family. It all came to a head, and he demanded their youngest daughter as payment for a truce. She was only seventeen, and he was almost forty.”

I couldn’t even imagine being forced to marry my enemy, but marrying a man old enough to be my father? I suppressed a shudder at the thought.

“I was the youngest,” he said, his voice rough. “Luka and Rina’s father was the oldest. Ben’s father was born next. I came last—but I wasn’t alone.”

“You were a twin?” I asked softly.

“I had a sister, but she died inside my mother. My cord strangled her, and my mother never forgave me. She made sure to tell me every single day what a monster I was. She never missed a chance to hit me or lock me in my closet or find ways to humiliate me.”

I could hear his teeth grinding together at the terrible memories, and my heart broke for him.

“When our father died, our uncles wouldn’t let her take all of us with her. She decided to leave my brothers behind, but she took me with her. I was so stupid. I thought she wanted me because she loved me, but she took me along because she wanted me to suffer.” He shuddered and inhaled a fractured breath. “Her family had fallen into poverty. My grandparents were both old and sick. She wouldn’t let me go to school. I had to stay in that awful house and take care of my grandparents. Washing them, feeding them, taking them to the bathroom.”

I could hear the turmoil in his voice. A young child shouldn’t have ever been left to those kinds of tasks. He must have been torn between love for his grandparents and disgust at having to handle such intensely personal things.

“She would make me come with her at night, stand outside the room she rented and take money from the men who paid her for sex.” He gulped audibly, and his arms tightened around me. I held my breath, terrified of what he would say next. “One time...,” he started and stopped. “One time, she let a man pay for me instead. He wanted—” Besian halted. “He tried to—” He stopped again. “He couldn’t, and he got angry. He beat me until my eyes were so swollen I couldn’t see. My mother laughed when she found me. I’d never heard her laugh like that. It was gleeful. Joyful. She told me the only thing that would have made her happier was if he had killed me the way I killed her daughter.”

Horrified, I turned in his arms and made sure we were eye to eye atop the pillow. Cupping his jaw, I whispered, “That wasn’t your fault, Besian.”

“I know that now, but when I was little?” He shook his head. “I carried that stain with me everywhere. She cursed me as a murderer the day I was born. She constantly told me how useless I was. Told me no woman would ever want me or love me.”

Fury raged inside me at the thought of his mother treating him so terribly for something he couldn’t control. “You were just a little boy.” I stroked his face. “A sweet little boy who didn’t deserve any of that. She was a monster!”

His mouth twitched with amusement. “You look like you want to punch her in the face.”

“Tell me her address, and I will.”

His gaze softened, and he kissed my palm. “She’s been dead for more than twenty years, but you’re welcome to go stomp on her grave if you’d like.”

“I’ll do more than stomp on it,” I threatened. Stroking his face, I said, “You are not useless, Besian.” I chastely kissed him. “And you are wanted.” I kissed him again. “And loved.”

Besian let loose a broken sigh. He began to cry, and it stunned me. He tried to turn away, to hide his face and his emotional outburst, but I wouldn’t let him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “Come here. It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry about what happened to you.” He buried his face in the curve of my neck and shoulder. “I’m so ashamed of how I acted last night. I saw you with Andres, and it was like everything my mother had ever told me came crashing down on my head. How could a woman like you ever love me?”

“Easily,” I answered, kissing his cheek. “It’s the easiest thing in the world to love you, B.”

“I don’t deserve your love.”

“Hush,” I whispered forcefully. “Yes, you do.”

“I let you down last night. I disappointed you. I proved I’m not a man you can count on,” he continued, letting all his fears pour out in a raw wave of emotion.

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