Page 93 of Hidden Memories

I guess her opportunity to speak her truth puts her at ease because she wiggles up the length of the bed. She tucks her bare legs back under the covers next to me and it’s a good thing, too, because I’m struggling not to climb between them.

Kat takes a long inhale as if preparing herself. “I tried to leave when Theo was four years old after he first went off to preschool. Theo, maybe because of his home life, and the fact that Nic did often shout at me, he’s always been a reserved, quiet boy. A bit of a loner. It only became more evident when he went to school. Already boys his age were joining different Pee Wee leagues or tiny tots’ tennis. Theo just wasn’t into team sports and was introverted even back then. Nicholas said cruel things to him about not being normal. Not being areal man.He was only four, and Nic made him cry on more than one occasion. Just… making Theo feel less than. He was four, for God’s sake.”

I thread my fingers through hers, as any friend might do. But the way she squeezes mine as she speaks is taking me back to the barn.

“That was when it set in the kind of father Nicholas was going to be. I didn’t think to leave when Nic tore me away from friends, stopped me from painting, or even physically shoved me for stepping out of my place. After all, I grew up in a home not too dissimilar from the one I was in with Nic. But watching Nic with Theo? It’s weird how much we tolerate for ourselves that we never would for a loved one.”

How true that is.

“I didn’t know how I’d leave. I had no job. No skills. Shit, I dropped out of college after I got pregnant. I don’t have an education. I’m not good at math, I’m dyslexic, but I figured I could make my way. And maybe I could even ask my dad. When I finally got brave enough to talk about divorce with Nicholas,” she takes in a ragged breath, “he had me committed.”

“Committed?”

She wraps her arms around herself. “Yeah, to a mental hospital.”

The fuck?“Jesus, Kat…”

“Nic had a friend, Dr. Frazer, who issued a warrant for detention, without ever seeing me or talking to me. And I was committed. I spent two weeks with drugs pumped into me, no contact with my son… it was like a fifties horror movie.”

Holy shit…I want to stop and wrap my arms around her, lay my palm over her head… but thankfully, talking seems cathartic for her.

“When I got out, he made it clear: if I ever tried to leave again, he’d make sure I’d lose Theo. He knew I couldn’t risk it.”

The air is heavier, the weight of her story has settled into the room. I want to punch something, to rage at how fucking cruel this man was.

She laughs humorlessly. “Of course, my father believed I had mental problems. Probably because I was pretty depressed as a teenager, but what did he expect? Mom left because of his cheating, Dad worked all the time and frankly isn’t a kind person. Without my father believing me, I had nobody to turn to. All I had was Theo so I resigned myself to a sentence of eighteen years until myson might legally move out and maybe I could do it then, too.”

No wonder she’s lost all trust. Nobody ever earned it from her.

My fingers curl tightly around hers. “Whatever happens, I won’t let you down.”

I mean it… I mean it as more than a friend and I’m a fool to think I can have this goddess in my home and not worship at her feet.

Her eyes lift to mine, glistening in the sliver of moonlight coming in through the curtains. Tears sparkle on her baby blues, and the whole world slows down. Seeing her like this knocks the air out of my lungs. There’s so much in those eyes—fear, doubt, hope, our past…

Her voice is barely audible. “Why would you want someone so goddamn broken?”

“You’re not broken to me.” I tangle my fingers in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to keep her eyes locked on mine. “You’re a masterpiece,” I drop my lips closer. “Every part of you is a treasure I’d fight to claim.”

A tear traces the curve of her round cheek.

I slide my hand around the delicate curve of her neck, feeling the pound of her pulse beneath my thumb. “I wish I didn’t—goddamn, I wish I didn’t… But I need you.”

We’re so close now, our noses nearly touching. Her breath brushes my skin, warm and shaky, and my hands slide up to her waist, anchoring her to me.

“Santi,” she murmurs, her voice breaking.

Fuck it.

I close the space between us. It’s not just a kiss. It’s a slow unraveling, a quiet surrender to everything I’ve tried to bury. It’s giving in to the desire that’s been burning beneath my skin since the second I saw her again.

Her fingers twist into my shirt, yanking me down, and the second our mouths crash, it’s a fucking mess. Desperate, wet, all tongue and teeth. I fist the sheets beside her head, trying—failing—to control myself. She moans into my mouth; her hips roll against mine. I’m already so far gone.

I need to mark her. I need to hear herscreammy fucking name.

Her hands glide up my bare chest, gently clawing at my skin. I guide her down on the bed and every inch of my body is on fire, every thought about caution or consequences… gone. She’s all that exists—her warmth, her scent, the way she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her steady.

I run my hands up the length of her torso, and she lifts her arms so I can tug off her flimsy tank top. Full breasts fall to the sides. I take a mouthful of flesh, sucking in her sweet scent and soft skin. Her satisfaction purrs in my ear.

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