Page 84 of King of Pain
I haul in a deep breath of fresh sea air. “I don’t know what it is about you, Chance Sullivan, but yeah, I do.” I pause, glancing out toward the ocean. “Can we walk along the water? I think it’ll make it easier.”
He cups my face, then trails his thumb down to my lower lip, brushing over it lightly.
I forget how to breathe.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s a great idea.”
We trek down to the shoreline, slide off our shoes and socks to carry, then cuff our jeans. We start walking along the shore, the sand cool beneath our feet as the waves roll in and retreat. I keep my eyes on the horizon, letting the vastness of the ocean anchor me as I search for the words.
I clear my throat, then hesitate.
“Just… tell me whatever you’re comfortable with right now,” Chance says, his voice offering the steadiness I need. “You don’t have to lay it all out at once.”
I nod, swallowing over the lump in my throat.
I can do this. I need to do this.
“Well,” I begin, shaky but determined, “it’s not a unique story. Boy raised in a strict Catholic family. Boy sent to a Catholic school run by nuns and priests. Boy catches the eye of a priest.”
I force myself to meet his gaze.
“You know the rest.”
Chance nods but stays silent, giving me space to continue.
“Except, in my case,” I choke out, “it wasn’t just one priest. It was a whole… operation they had going. Sometimes it was one of them. Other times, it was several. I don’t know how many other boys they were doing this to, but I know I was their favorite.” I force out an awkward laugh, bitter and dry. “The nightmaresalways center around the times it wasseveralof them taking turns.”
Chance inhales sharply, his jaw flexing. Even from the corner of my eye, I can see the way he’s struggling to hold back his reaction.
My breathing picks up, and my chest constricts as the memories creep closer, threatening to choke me. “It went on for three years,” I murmur. “Three years of hell. And it wasn’t just the abuse.It was the threats. The constant fear. They told me if I ever said anything, they’d kill me. Kill my family. And they did things to make sure Ibelievedthem.”
I pause, my throat fighting to close as my body resists the words clawing their way out. “They even made a violent attempt to prove a point. That’s why my leg—”
A sudden noise behind us makes me tense. My body locks up, and I spin around just in time to see the culprit—a seagull—flap its wings and fly off.
I let out a small, shaky laugh, turning back to Chance. My hand grips his arm, seeking something—stability, safety…him.
That’s when I see them.
The tears.
They’re spilling silently down his face, his bright blue eyes filled with something raw, something devastating.
I stare, stunned into silence. No one has ever seen me before. Not like this. Not the parts I keep locked away, hidden behind walls—walls built by necessity with bricks of pain and shame.
He sees it all.
And he’s crying. For me.
“Chance,” I breathe, shaking my head as my grip on his arm tightens. “What are you—”
“I’m so sorry, Beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you. And that I wasn’t there to—”
I don’t even think about it… I just pull him in.
My arms wrap around his shoulders, and I press my face into the crook of his neck. For the first time between us, I’m the one offering comfort. I welcome it.
“Hey,” I murmur, squeezing him tight. “You need to stop feeling guilty for things out of your control. You’re a good man, Chance. And we’re all lucky to have you in our lives.”
