Page 69 of Break for Me

“Why?” I asked.

“Because fuck you, that’s why,” he said quickly. “I asked because I want to know. So just tell me.”

The fuck?

The absolute nerve of this man. Everything about him made my head hurt.

“Thirteen years was long enough to live with what he was doing to me. So, it was either me or him,” I said. “I was too afraid to do it to myself. That meant it had to be him.”

“Where was your mother during this thirteen year timespan?” He asked.

“She never believed me. Nate kept drugs flowing her way, made sure she didn’t have to go back to work, made sure she never had to worry about money again. We had everything we could ever need. That was really all it took for her to decide that I didn’t matter as much.”

His hand tightened on my leg again.

“And your biological dad?” He asked.

“Heart attack when I was six. My mom gave up on life when that happened. I don’t remember it clearly, but looking back at it now, that’s when she started using. She started working at a strip club that Nate owned. That was the end of that.”

His hand left my leg long enough to run through his hair while he sighed hard.

“Can I ask you something?”

He smirked. “Sure.”

“Which tattoo is your favorite?”

He laughed. “Anything to get back away from in-depth conversation about yourself, huh? Alright then. I won’t make you uncomfortable by calling you out on it.”

“You’re a dick. Now, which one?” I asked again.

He unbuttoned the sleeve of his left arm and rolled it up past his elbow. He turned that arm so I could see the inside of his forearm, near the bend of his elbow.

“Tigger,” he said.

I leaned across the center console to look closer at a small orange and yellow cartoon tiger that was bouncing on a scrunched tail with his arms spread wide to either side. It was the only splash of color in an otherwise sea of grays and blacks across his skin.

“Like Winnie the Pooh?” I asked.

“Like Winnie the Pooh,” he repeated with a nod. “The most wonderful thing about Tiggers is I’m the only one.”

“You got a Tigger tattoo to remind yourself that you’re one of a kind?” I asked and couldn’t stifle any part of the laugh that came out of me. “You’re a weird guy, J.”

He smirked while he looked at Tigger once more. “So I’ve been told.”

“Are you actually from New Jersey? Or is that just the state you picked?” I asked.

“Can’t we just play the license plate game?” He asked and groaned.

“With all this traffic out here,” I said and motioned to the very barren road. We literally fucked on and in a car in the middle of the road without seeing a single vehicle.

“I spy?” He asked.

“I spy an asshole.”

“Jersey?” He asked with a smile. Then that motherfucker winked at me and my brain shorted out.

“How smart are you?” He asked.

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