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“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
I let out the breath I wasn’t aware I was holding, and then guilt burns through me. He was honest with me, told me his past, yet I’m holding on to mine.
“I can feel your heart pounding. I don’t want to bring up bad memories. I just wanted to know about the flower thing because I want to get you flowers, but I wasn’t sure if you liked them.”
Gosh, he’s sweet. I move my nose into his shirt, rubbing it as if to rub my fear away. “It’s just so much, Ciaran,” I admit as I lean back to look up at him. His blue eyes shine for me and are so welcoming, encouraging, but it’s hard to open up that part of myself. “I have been in tons of therapy to help me get past the trauma, and then the embarrassment is real.”
“Embarrassment? I’d never judge you, Lou.”
“No, I know,” I stress, holding his gaze and hating how I’m going about this. I need to be honest. Those people, that place, have no hold on me. I am me. Louisa McDavid. I got my sisters out, I survived, and they’ll never find me again. They won’t.
“It’s just…” I pause, swallowing hard. “I know I said it was like the Amish, but it was actually a billion times worse.”
“How so?”
I hesitate, longer than I intend to, but then I whisper, “It was a cult.”
If he’s shocked, his face doesn’t show it. He only stares into my eyes, rubbing my back with his finger. I can see the wheels turning in his eyes, processing what I just said. “A cult? Like a for-real cult?”
“It was very real,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Did you join, or were you born into it?”
“I was born into it, but I had to join because it wasn’t as if I was given a choice.”
He blinks. “So, you’re telling me that you escaped a cult?”
“I did.”
Much to my surprise, he blows out a breath, slowly shaking his head. “I knew you were too good for me. Escaping cults, running a business, kind, beautiful, smart.”
His words wrap around me like his arms. Strong and true. As I stare into his warm eyes, my own eyes start to burn with tears. I don’t know if it’s because we’re talking about my past or the fact that he’s being so supportive and caring. He doesn’t owe me this, but it’s who he is.
He gathers me closer, shaking his head. “Are you sure you want to be my girlfriend? I’m just a pain-in-the-ass hockey player who tried to push you away, when we both know I was dumb as hell for that. I’m nowhere near your level of awesomeness.”
I can’t help but sputter with laughter as he brings me up to my toes. “You are so my level of awesomeness.”
“Not really,” he teases, kissing my nose. “I never escaped a cult, but I can make a wicked bank shot.”
I grin. “I can’t wait to see you do it.”
His eyes shine as he grins back at me. He moves his hand up to my cheek, swiping away the tears that have fallen without my notice. Emotion chokes me as his eyes drift along my face, so kind and so sweet. “You know you’re incredible, right?”
My soul sings for this man. “When you say it, I do feel it.”
His lips quirk. “You’re incredible.” I blink back the tears. “I am in awe of you, Lou.”
I lean into him, forehead pressing to his lips. “Thank you. I really appreciate your saying that.”
“It’s the truth.”
And I know he believes that. Sometimes it’s hard to remember how much I fought, how difficult it was to get out, but it was all worth it. All that, and now I have him in my arms. I kiss his chin and nuzzle my nose against the hair on his jaw.
“Can I ask you something, Lou?”
“Of course,” I say without hesitation, which I immediately realize wasn’t the smartest thing to do. I pull back, meeting his gaze.
“Did you get your scars when you were with the cult?”
