Page 104 of If You Claim Me
DRED
Brunch was an excellent idea, even if it meant I didn’t get to ogle a mostly naked Connor for more than a handful of seconds. I feel much more human after coffee, water, carbs, and time with just friends. By the time Connor and I finish eating, the car is already waiting, and all our things have been packed up and loaded. I hug everyone and climb into the passenger seat.
Connor and I leave the city and head north, leaving the highway after about half an hour, for less-traveled roads. We pass a town I lived in briefly. The location was cute, but the family wasn’t a good fit. The farther we get from civilization, the more anxious I become until I finally crack. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” Connor says airily.
I run my hands up and down my thighs. I would love a hair tie. But mine is packed in my bag in the trunk, so the only way to assuage my anxiety is to be truthful. “So…I, uh, I don’t really like surprises.”
“I promise you’ll love it,” he assures me.
Irrational panic takes hold. Normally I’d find a quiet place to disappear and give myself the time I need to feel all the feelings,but I have nowhere to go. “I’m sure I will, but my anxiety is at about a four thousand out of ten right now.”
“You don’t trust me to keep you safe?” Connor frowns, glancing at me. “You realize it’s always in my best interest to keep you happy.”
There’s so much to that statement to unpack, but I’m not capable of digging into it in my current state. “It’s not a you thing, Connor.” I swallow past the massive rock clogging my throat. If I’m honest, maybe he’ll understand. But he’ll also have another broken piece of me to play with. Exposing my weaknesses to him is tricky. I’ve spent my entire life hiding the parts that bleed.
We’re married, though. We’re living together for an undetermined amount of time. Him using my vulnerabilities against me isn’t in his best interests. He can’t avoid my triggers if he doesn’t know what they are.
“Every time there was a surprise growing up, it usually resulted in something bad.”
“Bad how?”
I lower the window a little, needing fresh air. But then we drive past an orchard, and memories I’ve long kept buried explode in my head. Scents can do that—open a box I’ve forgotten existed and submerge me. My words die on a plaintive sound. All the stress of the past few weeks has weakened my defenses, and this onslaught shatters them like glass. I close my eyes and fight the wave of memories, but they’re already on me.
“Mildred?” Connor’s fingers brush mine.
Did I really think I could go an entire year without him learning these things about me? Something was bound to happen eventually. Some accidental trigger to set me off. Who knew the smell of apple blossoms would light the match and set my brain on fire? I fight to keep my voice steady.
“I was left a lot. In places I shouldn’t have been.” My thoughts are a flood, saturating my mind, sliding down my throat, choking me, making it impossible to continue.
The pretty flowers. The petals floating to the ground. The promise that my foster brother wouldn’t be long. Stay in the car. We’ll get ice cream later.
But he lied.
Waiting and waiting and waiting.
Stuffy. Too hot. Sunburn. Need the bathroom. Can’t hold it.
Stay in the car.
Wet pants. Wet pants. Wet pants.
The sun heading toward the horizon.
The car door opening. Finally.
Apple blossoms and laughter turning to screams.
Yanked out of the car so hard my shoulder pops out of the socket. A stinging slap across the face.
Bad girl. Bad girl. Bad girl.
Back to the group home.
Another foster family.
Having and losing, having and losing.
