Her words had the same effect as if she had slapped me, and I jolted back. “What?”
With a contemptuous snort, she turned away from me. “You heard me just fine, AJ.”
“Jesus, Mia, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” When she didn’t respond, I asked, “How old were you?”
“Young and stupid,” she spat.
“Just how young?”
“Twenty-one.”
We fell into an uncomfortable silence. Reaching out, I gently trailed my hand down her arm. I was surprised when she didn’t jerk away. I drew in a deep breath. “I know it might seem like I have the perfect life. And yeah, I’m blessed to not have any real skeletons in my past. But when someone I care about is hurting, I’m there for them. So if you want to talk about what happened, I’d like to hear it.”
Her incredulous gaze snapped back to mine. “Seriously?”
I gave a quick nod of my head. “I really mean it, Mia.”
She exhaled a long, agonized sigh, like one who held the weight of the world on her shoulders. Chewing her bottom lip, I could tell at any minute she was either going to come clean with me or bolt again. I extended my hand. “Come on. You can tell me about it down by the river.”
Almost skittishly, Mia reached out for my hand, grasping it like it was an anchor holding her sanity together. We started making our way through the high grass back down to the riverbank. When we reached the edge, I still didn’t press her for more information. Instead, I remained uncharacteristically silent, waiting for her to take the lead.
After what felt like a small eternity, she turned to me. “Even all these years later and with time spent in therapy, I still can’t understand why I ever stayed with him. I wasn’t the girl so desperate for her father’s attention that she’d let a man abuse her. No man was, or is, a better father than Duke Martinelli.” Mia shook her head. “And even though my mother bailed, I was raised by one of the strongest women I’ve ever known—one who taught me not to take any shit from men.” A smile tugged at Mia’s lips. “Trust me, when you’re surrounded by Italian men, that’s no easy feat.”
“I think they’re kinda as pig headed as Hispanic men, right?”
“You could say that,” she replied. She stooped down to gather up a few pebbles along the bank. “Regardless of those two factors, there has to be some reason I completely lost my mind for eighteen months, right?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think you need to blame yourself. Shit happens.”
“I wish it was as easy as that.” Mia chucked one of the pebbles into the stream, sending ripples along the surface. “His name is Jason. He was the second real boyfriend I ever had—the first guy I really loved….or thought I did. At first, I thought him being possessive was sweet, even sexy. He called me constantly during the day to see what I was doing, he referred to me as his, and he wanted to spend every waking minute with me.”