“Tell me about Mark?” Her voice was soft with the appeal, asking for more.
Wasn’t prepared for her to ask something so out of the blue, and her request squeezed at my ribs, because God, that wound was forever raw. I swallowed around it and rolled to lie on my side. Like she was drawn, she did the same, and in that second, the world felt small, like the two of us were side-by-side. Like she was right here with me, and those slender arms were wrapped around me. And there was no sound—nothing vocalized—but I could hear her whisper those same words that terrified me.
I love you.
But she was saying it with her care, with her concern for me. Because she saw me. The real me. The girl didn’t give a fuck who the world thought I was or the way other people saw me. I’d been so fearful of her knowing, of it changing what we were…how we were.
But no.
Shea reached in to touch beneath it.
“He was my best friend.” The admission came on a pained murmur, my mind spinning back to that time.
“My life was so fucked up when I was a teenager, Shea. So much fucking bad that it makes me cringe to start giving you the details, but I don’t want to hide any of that from you anymore, either.”
I hesitated before I continued. “All of us…me and the guys…” Nostalgia wrapped around me like a dense fog. “We’ve been friends forever, grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same school. But Mark? He and I were always closest. Just seemed to get each other. By the time our teenage years hit, his life was as messed up as mine. Maybe there was some kind of solace in that, knowing we both hated it at home, knowing we had little brothers there we had to take care of.”
Shea flinched as if me saying it caused her pain. “What was home like?”
Desperation filled her tone, and she leaned in closer, as if she were reaching deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper.
I had nowhere left to hide.
But I found I didn’t want to be doing that anymore, anyway. Giving vague explanations and bullshit answers. Even though I’d never directly lied to Shea, I’d always skirted around my truths. Keeping her in the dark. I didn’t want any more secrets between us.
“Everything fell apart when Julian died.” Grief grabbed me by the throat, and the words came abraded as they ripped from me. God, I wished I was in Shea’s bed, in her embrace. “My mom…she was the fucking best. Filled up with so much love. But when she lost him? She never came out of it. She got lost somewhere inside herself and the memories. My dad was always kind of a prick. Drank too much. Said shit he shouldn’t say to us when he was pissed off. But without my mom there to intervene…” Too many memories came pressing to the forefront, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Baz,” she whispered.
I opened them to all that concern staring back at me. Affection. Sorrow. Care.
“Let’s just say our house turned into a war zone and I was on the front lines battling our father to keep him away from Austin.”
A whimper slipped from her.
Real.
Real.
Real.
“Needing to protect Austin should have been enough to keep me out of trouble,” I continued with a shake of my head, “but it was like I was drawn to it. Like it gave me relief from all the bullshit at home. When Austin got a little older, instead of staying at home and protecting him, I started dragging him along with the guys and me. Letting him hang out and witness all the shit a little kid shouldn’t see.”
A regretful smile tweaked my mouth. “Playing…that’s really where all of us connected. We’d hide out in Ash’s garage for hours, getting high, writing songs, dreaming of making it big and getting the hell out of our neighborhood.”
I realized then I was sharing things with Shea I’d never shared with anyone before. All the guys? They’d been there. Been through it.