Page 50 of Pulse
“It makes much more sense to me that it’s Freddy,” I say. “I don’t know why no one believes that. He’s angry with me. He’s … unhinged. He had access to my house because I’d given him a key.”
Troy’s lips form a tight line. “What’s his motive?”
“I don’t know. That he thought I’d get scared and run back to him? That if he can’t have me, no one else will? He’s not made sense for a while, which only backs up my point.”
“When did he start not making sense?”
I think about it. “I’m not sure. Maybe … six months ago?”
“What has he been weird about? How did his behavior change?”
“He became erratic. Paranoid. He started buying things he couldn’t afford.” I look at Troy over my shoulder. “But now I know he was doing cocaine, so that fits the narrative.”
“You were never scared of him?”
I laugh. “Uh, no. I could probably take him in a fight. And, besides, I think he knew my dad would come for him if he hurt me.”
“Freddy knows about your dad?”
“Yeah, a few people do. It was hard keeping it from him when we practically lived together when I found out.” I think back to that time. “He didn’t love the idea that Joseph Dallo was my father. He thought he was a rich prick who’d walk away from me again.”
Troy hums. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“I notice you never call JosephDad. You saymy dadormy father. But neverDad.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why. I’ve let it slip a time or two, but it’s just … he didn’t play catch with me in the yard. He didn’t pick me up from school or tuck me in at night. I didn’t grow up thinking he was the biggest, strongest man in the world. So maybe I want to preserve that title for someone who embodies it.” I shrug. “I imagine hearing my children call my husbandDadsomeday, and it feels so special. I want it to feel special. Itshouldfeel special.”
He considers this as we stop and look across the ocean. Birds dip into the water, looking for fish. A boat sails in the distance. I don’t know if it’s the salt in the air or if my defenses are whittled down, but sharing this with Troy allows me to breathe a little easier.
“What about your parents?” I ask, taking the focus off me. “What are they like?”
Troy’s entire demeanor changes. His hands come out of his pockets. Shadows fall across his face. He looks at the ground as we walk, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “We don’t have to talk about them.”
He forces a swallow and heaves a breath. Finally, he speaks. “Parent is such a loaded word.”
I nod but stay quiet.
“Let’s just say that my parents were the opposite of yours,” he says. “They weren’t in love. They didn’t stick to their word. And they sure as hell didn’t sacrifice anything for Travis and me.”
My heart twists in my chest at the emotion—an angry, painful, resolved display visible on Troy’s face. I want to hug him, wrap my arms around his waist, and wipe the loneliness away from his features. But he’s already told me that’s not going to happen. And he’s probably right.
So I don’t.
“I’m sorry you experienced that,” I say softly.
“It made me who I am, I guess.”
“Well, if it matters at all, I think you’re a pretty great guy. You’re highly annoying a lot of the time, and you can besodemanding and bossy.” I wink at him. “But you’re a good man.”
His pace slows as he watches me.
“What?” I ask, laughing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Slowly, a smile inches across his cheeks. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”
