Page 58 of The Vines Between Us
"What do you feel?"
"Terrified," I whispered. "All my life, I've made decisions based on his threats, his violence, his voice in my head telling me I was worthless, that love would destroy me, that I'd destroy anyone I loved." I looked up at the stars, the same ones Hugo had been watching. "What if that voice was the only thing keeping me from becoming him?"
Hugo's eyes softened, but he didn't move from his perch on the wall.
"You're nothing like him."
"How do you know?"
"Because he would never have asked that question." Hugo's gaze was steady. "Because you've spent fourteen years running from love to protect the people you care about, not to hurt them."
"I've hurt you."
"Yes," he agreed simply. "But not like he hurt your mother. Not like he hurt you. You've hurt me by leaving, not by staying."
I took a deep breath. "The last time you saw me with him, that last summer... when we were eighteen. He saw us behind the wine press, I thought he'd left but he was still there watching."
Hugo nodded. "You disappeared for days after that, Henri told me you were sick in bed."
"He beat me until I couldn't stand," I said quietly. "Then he told me if I ever touched you again, he'd kill my mother. That it would be my fault when he finally went too far with her."
Hugo's breath caught. "Alexandre... why didn't Henri do something? Protect you both?"
I laughed bitterly. "Henri tried, once. When I was ten. My father put my mother in the hospital, and Henri came to Lyon, threatened to take her away. My father convinced her to tell the doctors she fell down stairs, then told Henri if he ever interferedagain, he'd never see either of us again." I swallowed hard. "My father knew exactly how to manipulate everyone. He told Henri that the only way I could visit the vineyard was if Henri stayed out of their marriage. So Henri made a devil's bargain—he couldn't save her, but he could give his grandson three months of safety every year."
"That's why you came every summer," Hugo whispered.
I nodded. "It was the only time we could breathe. Henri knew what was happening, but he also knew if he pushed too hard, my father would cut off all contact. So he gave me what sanctuary he could and prayed it would be enough." My voice cracked. "It wasn't. But he tried the only way he knew how."
Hugo's eyes were wet. "And when your father caught us..."
"I made Henri promise not to interfere. I told him I'd handle it, that I didn't want him getting hurt too. But my father knew. He always knew how to hurt me the most. He said if I ever saw you again, he'd know, and my mother would pay the price." I closed my eyes against the memory. "So that final week of us being together once my father had actually gone back to Lyon, I risked everything just to have those last days with you. I knew I was saying goodbye forever, but I couldn't bear to leave without... without having that one last perfect week." My voice broke. "And then I left. And I never came back, not even for Henri. I couldn't risk it."
Hugo's breath caught. "Alexandre..."
"I believed him. For fourteen years, I believed him. Every time I thought about coming back, about calling you, about finding out if there was still something between us, I heard his voice. I saw my mother's bruises." My voice broke. "And then when I came back and found you still here, still so—so you—I panicked. I thought somehow he'd know. That he'd hurt her."
Hugo slid down from the wall, standing on his side of the property line.
"That night, after we were together, that's why you ran."
I nodded, unable to speak through the tightness in my throat.
"You should have told me, I could have helped you," Hugo said softly.
"I know. I was ashamed. Terrified. I thought I was protecting you and Henri by staying away."
"And now?"
"Now he's gone. And I'm standing here, looking at you, wondering if I've lost my chance at the only thing that's ever made me feel whole."
Hugo was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he took a single step forward, crossing the invisible boundary between our properties.
"I can't promise I won't be afraid that you'll run again," he said. "But I understand better now. And I'm willing to try, if you are."
"I want to learn how to stay," I whispered. "How to love without fear. But I need you to know that I might mess up. That I've never known how to do this. I'm not perfect, but I want to be for you."
"Neither do I," Hugo said. He reached out slowly, his hand hovering in the space between us. "But maybe we can figure it out together."
