“Your mother?”
“She died in a car accident when I was five. Steve, my father, knew about me, but didn’t want anything to do with me. When she died, he was listed as my guardian. I don’t think she ever meant for me to go with him, but her own parents were dead, and she had no other family. I’d never met him before that day.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. It was always hard to talk about my father, a man who held so much contempt for me. “He was married by then, and his wife had a son of her own. They all hated me for disrupting their family. It was the talk of the town because he was prominent in the community, so he couldn’t ditch me once word got out. I wish he had, but they had to think he was the kind of man that did the right thing. So, he took me home and ignored me. He refused to soothe me when I was upset; he would yell and scream instead. He put on his proud father face when out, but when at home, I was left to fend for myself. Child protective services would be all over his ass these days.”
Nathan’s voice was strained, every muscle in his body tense. “How did you survive?”
I snorted. “He taught me independence through neglect. That was probably his downfall.”
His hand reached across the desk to mine. “You did nothing to deserve it. You know that, right?” His thumb was making soothing circles across my fingers.
I knew he wanted to do more, but we couldn’t in the office. It would have to wait.
I nodded as best I could. Words would fail me because I couldn’t agree, not fully, and then he would see through me.
We returned to our work, Nathan peering over at me from time to time to make sure I was all right, and I knew he could see I wasn’t. I felt out of sorts for the remainder of the day; my mind kept wandering back to those awful times in that house. I couldn’t even eat lunch, still bombarded with the memories.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. It was long, but without drama or encore performances from the Boob-Squad. Which was good. I still couldn’t shake the memories and they were dragging me down.
It was several hours later when we returned to my condo. He could sense my sullen mood and wordlessly helped me out of my suit while he stripped out of his own. He made us a simple dinner, because he couldn’t cook much, but it was appreciated all the same. I sat on the couch flipping through channels. Once we were done and the dishes were washed, he pulled me into the bedroom and laid me on the bed.
That night, he paid great attention to me, worshipping my body. And like that morning in the shower, he used his touch to bring me back to myself, back to him. It was softer, but still intense, passion flowing from him into me. His presence overpowered everything else. With each thrust, he was pulling on the rope that tied us together, pulling me back to him. His arms were wrapped around my body, holding me to him. When he pushed me over the edge, I felt my heart spring open.
I was home.
We were one in that moment, together again, bound to each other in a way neither of us understood, but were beginning to accept.
I was in love with him. I loved Nathan Thorne.
Everything solidified, and I knew the truth behind those words. I finally found my home, the place where I belonged.
CHAPTER 22
Nathan was always stiff and sore in the mornings; some symptoms showed more than others. That day fell into the latter category. He literally rolled out of bed, and the limp in his leg was very pronounced.
A few hours later, I watched as Nathan popped more pills into his mouth, his hands moving to his temples, rubbing them in a counter-clock-wise motion.