Page 72 of Crash

After they leave, Luke walks me to the bedroom and sits me down on the bed.

“I’m going to draw you a hot bath. You relax while I make dinner.” He helps me take off my boots and clothes. I can see the desire in his eyes as he looks at my breasts.

“Bathe with me. Dinner can wait.” He licks his lips as he looks at my naked body. I grab his sweater and pull him to me. “The bath can wait too,” I whisper as I kiss his lips. “Bathing is overrated.”

“This is the life,” I whisper as I sit between his legs in the massive bathtub. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, planting a soft kiss on the side of my neck.

My body is still tingling from our lovemaking. The kiss started out frenzied, but when he laid me down on the bed, something in him shifted. He became gentle, and he kissed every inch of me, bringing me to the edge of orgasm with his mouth, but he didn’t let me come with his mouth. He climbed back on top of me, holding my gaze as he slid all the way inside of me.

“I love you,” he said as we both came at the same time. Too overcome, I couldn’t speak. It was minutes later, as he held me in his arms, that I was finally able to tell him that I loved him too.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks me. I lean back into him. I know he’s not asking me about being sore or the bruises from my falls.

“I’m here with you in post-orgasmic bliss. I’m great.”

I know he’s unsatisfied with my answer when he says, “You don’t have to pretend, Vivi.”

“I don’t know how I feel other than it’s too little, too late. I don’t want anything to do with either of my parents. If she’s getting help, great. She should focus on herself because I’m going to be okay.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re a fighter. Did she really tell your father you suggested she get therapy?”

I lean back into him as I ponder my next words.

“It was during the end of my freshman year in college. The counselor I was seeing thought my mother has deep-seated issues she needs to work through and it’s possible she’s been suffering from depression for a long time. I was relieved to hear that because I finally had an answer for why she was the way she was. I went home and told her she should get help and there’s medication out there. My father walked in during our talk. Well, it wasn’t an actual talk. It was me talking while she sat there like a mute. As soon as he came in, I stopped talking and went to my room. I don’t know what happened, but a few hours later he confronted me.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I know his thinking of what I just told him. He takes his time washing my body and massaging my shoulders.

“A few hours later?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Mmhmm,” I say, enjoying his hands on me.

“So, did she tell him, or did he browbeat her into telling him what you two were talking about? Is it possible he overheard and confronted her first, and made you believe she betrayed you?”

I mull his words over. “At the time, I was so angry and hurt, I never considered any other scenario,” I admit. “But it doesn’t matter. That was one incident in twenty-one years of incidents. The control, the verbal abuse, making me feel like I was nothing, that I was unwanted; she stood there and let it all happen. Would your mother have let your father treat you or your brothers that way?” I ask him.

CHAPTER 42

LUKE

“Never,” I admit.

“Exactly. Mine was there and never did a thing.”

“Hmm,” is all I say as I continue to rub. “Did your mother ever verbally abuse you herself?

“No, she never did. She just stood by and let it happen.”

“What about other things when you were growing up? Who helped you with your homework, or helped get you ready for school? Gave you a bath? Bought your school clothes? Packed your lunch? Made your dinner? Things like that?” I ask as gently as possible.

“First off, Lucas, I never needed help with my homework, okay?” she teases. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding at her playful tone. “And my mother did those things, I guess.”

“And she did those things consistently?”

She tenses at the last question, and I hold my breath again as I lower my hands and caress her breasts. I’m rewarded with a moan and the loosening of her body.

“Yes,” she admits.

“Listen, Vivi. I’m sorry you grew up that way, but I’m so glad you’re sharing with me. I agree with you that she stood by and did nothing about your asshole father. I’d be angry too, but it sounds like she’s as much of a victim as you are.” This time she bristles and tries to move away from me, but I hold on to her.

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