Page 37 of Second Shot

“I see.” Sounded familiar. I’d been the king of that shit. It still haunted me, and I’d have given anything to change the past.

“Were you ever bullied?” he asks softly, his blue eyes glittering.

My throat’s tight as I hold his gaze. “Not the way you were,” I say gruffly.

He wrinkles his brow. “What does that mean?”

I take a long drink off of my beer, stalling. He’s pushing for info more than I thought he would. Usually Gabe doesn’t ask a lot of personal questions. I’m not sure if I should tell him a little bit about my past, or just keep quiet. I need him tonight. I need to be with him. If I say the wrong thing, this night could implode.

When I don’t speak, he says, “Sorry, am I being too nosey? I just wanted to get to know you better. I mean, if we can fuck, we should be able to talk, right?”

I nod, still uncertain of what to say.

He sighs. “Okay, let’s change the subject. Are close with your parents?”

A harsh laugh escapes me, but I don’t respond directly to the question. This subject is no better than the bullying one. I don’t want him to pity me, but if I tell him what my dad was like, he might.

He watches me for a few moments, then says quietly, “I guess sharing isn’t your thing. Do you not trust me or something?”

I grimace. “It’s not that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can see I’m stressing you out.” He turns back to the stove. “Dinner is almost ready.”

He’s disappointed in me. That’s obvious. He’s not saying it flat out, but I can see it on his face. He told me some of his painful memories, and I shut him out. I let him down by being too cowardly to share anything personal about my life. I hate the feeling of shame and cowardice washing through me. I hate disappointing Gabe so much, I can’t stand it.

I take a shaky breath and force myself to say, “I do trust you, Gabe. It’s not that. Not at all. The problem is, it’s… it’s hard to answer your questions about bullying and family.” I clench my jaw and force myself to continue. “Because, believe it or not, m… my father was the worst bully I ever had to deal with.”

Chapter Nine

Gabe

Shocked by his words, I gape at him. His face is red and it’s obvious talking is a struggle for him. He drops his head, and his hands are clenched on top of the counter. There’s so much anger and shame in the tilt of his head, I set down the spoon I’m holding and I go to him. I put my arm around his shoulders, hoping to comfort him.

“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling sick because I’m pretty fucking sure I know what he means.

“My old man was and still is an asshole.” His voice is hushed and his eyes dark with embarrassment. I suspect it took a lot for him to admit that to me.

“What did he do to you?”

He winces. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not that helpless kid anymore.”

I hesitate, gently rubbing my hands up and down his arm. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But anything he did to you wasn’t your fault. I hope you know that.”

“Maybe it was.”

“No. That’s bullshit.”

His eyes are red-rimmed. “I’m not a good person, Gabe,” he croaks and his voice breaks.

I’m the weird position of knowing some of what he’s guilty about. But he doesn’t know that I know. I either have to admit the truth, or tread lightly and guard my words. I chose the latter. “Why do you say that?”

He clenches his teeth, avoiding my gaze. “I did stuff when I was a kid. Stuff I’m really sorry for and embarrassed about. If I could change it, I would. But, you know, I… I can’t.”

It makes my heart ache to hear the regret in his voice, even as his admission soothes something inside of me. It’s cathartic hearing that he’s sorry for how he was. How many people get to hear their childhood bully say they regret their behavior? But at the same time, I feel guilty because it’s like I’m reading his diary.

“What kind of stuff did you do?” I ask.

He groans and turns his face away. “The same shit that happened to you. I was just like that bully you had to put up with.”

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