Page 106 of Heart Sick Hate

“I know.”

“No.” It comes out snappier than I mean, so I try to reel it back. “Sorry, it’s just you don’t know.”

I fidget my fingers in the hem of his T-shirt, wishing any reminder of my past didn’t make me feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.

“Until my dad came along, I’d never had a home. Mom bounced between friend’s houses—hopping around from one couch to another. Sometimes we stayed in a shelter. And those were the good days.”

I bite my bottom lip, trying to bury the choked lump that’s lodged in my throat.

“And the bad days?” Crew asks, watching me. Not a flicker of judgment in his gaze.

My past isn’t a secret, but I also don’t talk about it. And even if Crew knows I came from nothing, I’m sure he can’t picture the extent of what that really means.

“On bad days we’d find a bus stop, a park bench, or an abandoned building.” My eyes glance around his apartment, at all the clean lines and polished surfaces. “Anything that resembled a roof over our heads.”

He nods, his jaw clenched.

“I survived. That’s all that matters.” I brush my hands over my lap. “And I didn’t have to become her to do it. I figured it out without having to sell my body, so that’s got to mean something. Even when she tried to force it. I survived her.”

My forced smile hurts, and the way Crew’s teeth clench means he sees it.

“Echo, come here.” He holds out his hand, and only then do I realize I’m curled in on myself at the other end of the couch.

My safe space.

It’s easier to hold myself together when I’m closed off. And how Crew reaches out now bridges that gap I maintain between myself and everyone else. But he doesn’t drop it, he waits for me to plant my palm in his, and when I do, he pulls me to him.

I straddle his lap, but unlike any other time I’ve done this, it isn’t sexual how he holds me. His arms wrap around my waist while he draws circles with his thumbs on my lower back. His eyes meet me like a cool ocean, rocking my wicked nightmares to sleep.

“You did more than survive it, Echo,” he says, rubbing my back. “You’re so fucking strong it's incredible. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Tears burn in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like there was something wrong with you for being a virgin for so long. For all the things I’ve said. The fact that you saved yourselfbecause of what happened to you, and then for some fucked up reason decided to give yourself to me…”

I shake my head, cupping his jaw in my hands. “I’m not sorry for any of it.”

He closes his eyes, and I tip my forehead to his.

“I wanted it to be you.” I sigh. “It had to be you.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I pull back as he blinks open his eyes. “It doesn’t matter where I come from. Just like it doesn’t matter where you come from. Money, no money. Drugs, death. There are broken pieces inside both of us, Crew. And you’re the only one I’d trust with mine.”

He wraps his arms tighter around me, holding me close. My heartbeat is in my throat at the way his warmth settles me.

“I didn’t tell you this so you’d feel guilty. I told you because I want you to know. I want you to understand why I was scared for so long. But I’m not scared with you. Of all the things I fear, you aren’t one of them. That’s why I tried to tell myself I hated you, then I could try to deny the fact that you were the only person really seeing me.”

“I do see you.”

“I know.”

“And you’re perfect.”

I roll my eyes. “Not quite. Not even close.”

“You’re too good for me.”

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