He shook his head at her. “My vantage point overlooked a school. This teacher, she…reminded me of my mother. Always fussing with the kids’ hair or making sure they had enough to eat. I didn’t need to speak the language to know they all loved her.” The view from the window was still painted on his memory. “One day, she wasn’t smiling when she got there. She limped into the damn building. During recess, I saw that she had two black eyes. I just knew.” He met her gaze, but couldn’t hold it. “And it was like seeing my mother like that all over again. I couldn’t…separate it.”
As if she could sense he needed contact with her, Erin scooted closer and pressed the sides of their bodies together. “Your dad hit your mom,” she said, not asking a question.
“Yeah.” It felt hard to swallow. “He did. And then he couldn’t anymore.”
Erin seemed to process that, her face solemn. “What happened to the teacher?”
“We got orders to move that night. Just to the opposite side of the village. Our target had become paranoid and changed locations.” He closed his eyes and remembered that night how it happened. “We were on the move when I heard a man yelling. A woman crying. We all wanted to investigate, even if it countermanded orders, but I was the only one who couldn’t make a decision one way or another. I didn’t think. I just went. I saw him beating my m—the teacher, and I just reacted.”
She stroked a hand up the side of his face, into his hair. He leaned into her touch like a lifeline, comforted by the sound of her humming in her throat, her massaging fingers. “The fucker deserved to have the situation reversed, baby. You stood up for that woman when no one else would. I hope she holds on to that when things get rough. I hope she remembers her husband can be beaten just as easily.”
He felt weightless. Like he’d been carrying around sandbags on his shoulders for the last two years and she’d just slashed them open, allowing them to empty their contents onto the ground. Nothing could excuse what he’d done or how he’d gone about it, but knowing she didn’t judge him was a potent relief.
“What about your dad?”
For some reason, he felt no anxiety anymore in revealing this to her. Even though he’d never told a single soul in his life, save his mother who was there that night. At that moment, in the back of the dim, rumbling bus, they were the only two people in the world and no ugly memories could touch them. “When I was sixteen, I came home and found my mom. He’d hit her.” Connor shook his head. “He’d stopped for a while, straightened up, but…this time was bad. She needed stitches, a cast. It was like he’d decided to make up for lost time.” His hand fisted at the image of his mother bleeding on the kitchen floor. “I chased him out of the house and he got hit by a cab.”
Her breath hitched. “I’m sorry that happened to you. So sorry.”
“That’s not the worst part. I was—”
“Glad. You were glad he couldn’t hit your mother anymore.” She tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling his neck in a way that somehow healed a broken part of him. “You’re human. Sometimes advantages present themselves through death. We can’t beat ourselves up for recognizing them.” A few beats passed before she met his gaze. “You think whatever your father had inside him made its way into you. Maybe it did. But it’s no match for you, Connor. It’s an ember and you’re a beautiful house fire.”
Humbled by her vehemence, her confidence in him, he didn’t know what to say, so he just concentrated on the feel of her. Savored it.
“My mother died, too,” she mumbled into his neck. “I’ll tell you about it when I can.”
“You can’t tell me now?”
“No. But only because this was your time to tell a story. We have to let it settle.”
Unbelievable. He felt like smiling. After all the ugly shit he’d dredged up. “One more thing, then we’ll let it settle.”
She mushed her nose against his skin and inhaled. “Fire away.”
“Today was incredible, Erin. Maybe we got there because I was, am, a jealous man. And maybe it didn’t end the way we wanted.” He turned his head and kissed the corner of her lips, ordering himself not to do more. Not to sink in the way he craved. Too soon. “But you let me touch you and you’re still here. You’re fine. We’re a damn sight better than we were yesterday. We’re going to keep getting better, too. I want you to stop doubting.”
“You sound so sure,” she murmured.
“You’re damn right.” Connor released a slow breath. “Sure enough that I’m taking you to meet my mother right now.”