My self-congratulatory thoughts falter when she asks, “Will you tell me about what it was like for you growing up? Since we’re doing the sharing thing?”
My heart stutters as pangs of loss and grief stab through it. I swallow against the pain of old wounds never fully healed. Because do you ever fully recover from the loss of your parents? Especially when they’re ripped from your life without warning?
I pause for the length of a few breaths before finally speaking. “Up until the age of ten, my childhood was simple. My parents were dedicated to serving others. They were missionaries. When I was six, we moved to Papua New Guinea. We lived there for four years. I don’t remember a lot before that, to be honest. Everything there was so vivid and alive. Simple. Amazing. I ran wild with the other missionaries’ kids, and the mothers took turns homeschooling us. It was basically the best childhood a kid could ask for. My sister was born there, about a year before . . . everything changed.”
Holly’s palm begins stroking up and down my chest, and I wonder if she knows she’s soothing me. It’s a very wifely gesture, and it gives me a shot of steadiness to continue. I haven’t told this story in years, not since I told Cannon. Like I did then, I just have to recite the facts or I’ll never get through it.
“Sometimes I feel bad that Greer was too young to remember any of those good days, but then again, she also doesn’t remember any of the bad. Including the day trip I took with another missionary family, because my best friend James and I were dead set on seeing the tree kangaroos. His dad promised us that he’d find them for us, and he did. We came back late in the evening to the village, and found that fifteen people were slaughtered by a vigilante mob, including my parents, who tried to stop them. The mob was hunting down people accused of witchcraft. It seems insane in this day and age, like something out of the Salem witch trials, but it still happens there, even today.”
“Oh my God,” Holly said softly. “How did I not know about this? The press—how do they not—?” She left her question hanging, but I knew what she was asking.
“My uncle paid a lot of money early on to cover it up. It wasn’t hard. News doesn’t travel very quickly or efficiently from Papua New Guinea. I certainly don’t tell people, and my aunt and uncle didn’t want the notoriety. They were put out enough having to become responsible for two children they never wanted. They were the guardians my parents named in their will. I overheard James’s father telling his mother that my uncle asked if the church could find someone else to take us.”
“Oh my God.”
My face twists into a grimace. “It’s always good to know that you’re not wanted.”
Something wet hits my chest, and I glance down. Tears have gathered at the corners of Holly’s eyes, and a few more splash onto my skin. I catch them on my thumbs.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry. It’s not worth it. Not at all.”
“But you were only ten. And—”
“And you were only fourteen. If you think about it, we’re not all that different. You got dropped off on your gran’s front porch, and I got shipped off to boarding school. I’m just happy as hell that you had a grandmother who loved you, and my aunt fell in love with my little sister. Greer became the daughter she never knew she wanted.”
Holly’s smile is wobbly and utterly adorable, so I pull her up my chest so I can reach her lips with mine.
“I don’t want you to cry for me. Neither of us can change our pasts, but somehow, all of these things happened in a way that made it possible for our paths to cross. No tears are necessary; I’ve got you in my arms, and I’ve never been happier in my life than I am right now.”
She blinks, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Damn it, Crey. You can’t say things like that if you don’t want me to cry.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because it’s not fair. And if you’re trying to make sure I have no chance of holding on to any piece of my heart where you’re concerned, you’re doing a damn good job of that too.”
My frown smooths into a small smile. “Under any other circumstances, I’d say I don’t fight fair to get what I want. But when it comes to this, I want you to give it to me of your own free will. I’m not taking it by strategy, power play, or seduction. I want it because you want me to have it. Freely given. Earned. And that will be the most valuable thing I’ve ever received.”
Her tears fall freely, dotting my face as she leans to kiss me. “Shut up and kiss me before I drown you with happy tears.”
So I do. And then we do something else I’ve never done before.
We make love.
Dress warm, he said. We’re going to be outside for a while. That was it; no other explanation. And then he left the room.