Page 30 of My Masked Savior
“Okay, Cole. Spill.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then I tell her about Marco.
“There’s a man in my past. A monster. It started normal,” I say, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. “Perfect, even. He was charming. Funny. He made me feel seen in a way no one else ever had.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I’d finally found someone who got me.”
Basia stays quiet, eyes soft but alert.
“At first, he was protective,” I continue. “Would walk me to my car, text to make sure I got home safe. Little things that felt... sweet. Thoughtful. Then it started to feel like he was keeping tabs. He’d get upset if I didn’t answer fast enough, or if I went out with friends and forgot to check in. He said it was because he worried about me.”
I trace a line on the condensation of my glass, watching the droplet trail down. “And I believed him. I told myself it was love. That he just cared more than most people did.”
Basia’s hand finds mine across the table, grounding me.
“Then it got worse,” I whisper. “The criticism started small... How I dressed, who I talked to, the way I laughed too loud. Then it turned into shouting. Accusations. Apologies that felt real until they didn’t.” I pause, swallowing hard. “The first time he grabbed me, I told myself he didn’t mean to. That he was just angry. He cried afterward, swore it would never happen again. And I believed him. Because the alternative—” My voice cracks. “The alternative meantI’d have to admit I’d chosen someone capable of hurting me.”
Basia’s eyes shine, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“I started hiding things from everyone. The bruises, the excuses, the panic attacks. I became so good at pretending, I almost convinced myself it wasn’t happening. Until it got bad enough that I couldn’t hide it anymore.” My throat tightens. “One night, he—” I stop, shaking my head. “I got away. I packed a bag and left while he was asleep. Moved two states over. Changed my number. My job. Everything.”
The silence between us hums with unspoken words.
Basia squeezes my hand, firm but gentle. “You don’t owe me the details,” she says quietly. “But you do need to hear this—you didn’t deserve any of that, Morgan. None of it.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I manage a small, shaky smile. “I know that now. I think.”
“Good.” She leans back, exhaling slowly. “Because the woman sitting in front of me? She’s strong as hell. And if that asshole ever shows his face again, I’ll make sure he regrets it.”
A small laugh escapes me, half a sob. “You and Damien would get along.”
Basia tilts her head. “Damien?”
“My EMT,” I say softly. “The one who helped me after—after everything.”
Basia’s brows lift, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Ohhh. That Damien. You’ve mentioned him before, right? The one from the Christmas party?”
I nod, staring into my drink like it might explain things better than I can. “Yeah. Him.”
Her voice softens, but there’s that protective edge she can never quite hide. “What about him?”
I swallow, trying to find words that make sense. “He’s… different. I don’t even know how to describe it. I mean, he met me when I was having a panic attack, and I should’ve been mortified, but I wasn’t. He made me feel—safe. Grounded.”
Basia studies me for a long beat. “And now you’re blushing like you’re about to confess to something that’s either really cute or really stupid.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Both, maybe.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh my God. You slept with him, didn’t you?”
I groan, covering my face with my hands. “Can we not do this here?”
Basia leans forward, whispering but grinning. “So that’s a yes.”
“Basia…”
“Hey, I’m not judging! I’m just surprised. You haven’t even been on a date in, what, five years?”
“Longer,” I mutter.
She whistles low. “And you picked an EMT. Nice. Rescuer fantasy, much?”
