“Your father had gotten drunk and you stepped in between him and your mother when things got physical,” I say quietly.
He nods. “I limped all the way to your house, and you hugged me. It was your first reaction. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t press me to spill everything. You didn’t do anything but soothe me with your presence. Then… Then you got angry when you learned what happened.”
“Once upon a time, I didn’t think it was possible for a parent to be so cruel to a child. I thought Clyde had a demon in him,” I mumble, then sigh. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“You demanded Milton go do something, and he did. He sent the cops over there like any normal citizen would. Cops were on my mother’s list of freebies, so as long as she didn’t press the issue, they let it go. Despite all her drug use and alcohol abuse, she was beautiful and had power over any man who walked in. Nothing got done about it,” he goes on.
My heart aches in my chest.
“I’m aware. Again, why are we discussing this?”
My body jerks when his hand is suddenly on my cheek, surprising me. I try to turn away, but he invades my space, sliding his hand down to cup my chin and tilt my face up.
With the way we’ve turned now, the angle allows the moonlight to touch his face, revealing the soft eyes and hope there. No pity.
“It was the first time anyone ever tried to stand up for me,” he goes on. “It was the first time anyone had ever cared about me to the point they were furious on my behalf. I was sure then that I’d be with you one day. I knew I’d never be the same after that day. I felt like I was worth something for once. You tended to every cut and checked every bruise like you knew what you were doing. We were kids, and you were fierce.”
“I was pissed,” I correct. “At him. At them. At everything you had to go through. But you don’t owe me anything for the past, Chase. Stop bringing it up. What I did was done because I cared about you. I’m not looking for reimbursement now that the tide has changed.”
He snorts derisively.
“I’m well aware. You’d be too prideful to ever let someone pay you back, Mika. You know that’s not what I’m suggesting.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask bitterly, watching as his lips tense.
“It’s not,” he says with so much conviction that I believe him. “I understand now, Mika. I’ve gotten all the sordid details, and I’m not the least bit concerned. I can—”
“You don’t know me anymore,” I interrupt, choking back the onslaught of emotions I just got under control. “I’m not that fierce, sexy, fun vixen, Chase. I’m a whole lot of crazy and a strong dose of psycho stuck inside a body that enjoys self-mutilation when something small goes wrong.”
He flinches, but my pride isn’t worth much in this moment, so it’s time to lay out all the ugly truth. He needs to leave. They all need to go. It’s just going to make it worse.
“I feel non-existent bugs crawling on me when things go wrong. I feel a phantom pressure build inside my core. My body longs for release. The more emotionally attached to something I am, the worse the reaction. I have to get better, and I can’t do that with emotional attachments all around me.”
“You can’t get better without emotional attachments there to force you to get better,” he counters.
“Suddenly an expert?” I ask through clenched teeth. “My brother has no friends other than Hunter. He’s never had a serious relationship. I’ve never met a single girl he’s been with—other than Whit. Hunter is the same way. I’m like poison and fire at once—killing everything around me and burning it to ashes.”
Several long, painful moments of silence hang between us before he finally steps back and releases me.
“I’m sorry your opinion of yourself is so low,” he says at last. “It’s too late to argue, so we’ll continue this in the morning. Don’t bother looking for your keys. I’ve already hidden them.”
He smirks and winks as he walks by me, and I hold my breath as he disappears inside my house. “We’ll continue this in the morning,” he says without looking back as I turn to stare at his retreating figure. “I’ll have backup then.”
Damn it.
Chapter 50
CHASE
Mika’s two-bedroom home is too small for four people, but I slept on the floor in the living room without complaint.
The sun was barely up when I heard the shouting. Four hours later, Aidan is still arguing with Mika, who is adamantly refusing to allow him to be tethered to her. Hunter is arguing just as fervently, but I’m just listening. And biting the fuck out of my tongue.
It’s hard not to lose my cool and punch out the both of them. The problem is, they’re not getting through to her because they’re only pissing her off.
She’s spent two months closing herself off—two months detaching herself with tools of psychiatry that I don’t even want to think about. That first shrink did a number on her and made her believe she could never have a life.