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“He really wants this,” I whispered.
Cap gathered me even closer, and whispered back, “Yeah.”
All right.
Here we go.
“I built a Citadel of Denial,” I told him.
“What?” he asked.
I tipped my head back to look at him again. “To deal. I built a Citadel of Denial. It has towers and a moat and drawbridge, and it’s heavily fortified. I hid there and shut it all out.”
He slid his hand up my spine so he could stroke the back of my neck before he said, “I can see that.”
“She used to shriek at him. Mom did.”
He put his forehead to mine and murmured, “Baby.”
“It was scary. Terrifying, actually. It was so not her. She was the tough nut, Dad was the pushover. But she was also lovey and cuddly, and when she had to be bossy, it wasn’t about yelling, instead, quiet disappointment. So that shift in her, especially coupled with my confusion that Macy was gone, was really scary. That was one of the things I buried so deep in my dungeon at the Citadel, I didn’t remember it, until he mentioned it last night.”
I gave it thought.
And then I shared, “I think he had a network. His best bud and his wife, definitely. Also, my friend’s parents. Mom would get like that, he’d make a call, they’d whoosh in, and I was spending the night with somebody.”
I closed my eyes tight as I allowed the next part to emerge, opened them and gave him it all.
“When he’d come get me, every time, he’d pull me in his arms and hold me so tight, sometimes, I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t get it then and never processed it enough to put it together until now. It was torture for him to send me away. He couldn’t keep an eye on me if I was somewhere else. But he was torn between protecting me from what was happening with Mom, and just overall protecting me. He couldn’t win, and one of his daughters was gone. He was in hell, Cap.”
“He was, baby, but don’t take on the guilt of not putting yourself in his shoes. You were a little kid. I’m not saying don’t have the grace to put yourself there now and explore how you two can get your family back. I’m just saying that you both had your own hells to navigate, don’t take his on too.”
Good advice.
I wondered if I could take it.
I nodded regardless so he knew I heard him.
“Last night was a lot,” I said, “but when I saw how healthy he looked, when I glimpsed the dad I used to have…”
Could I say it?
I could.
“It gave me hope.”
“Scary, hunh?”
“How’d you know?”
“In the beginning, with Shirleen, always wondered when it’d end. When me or Roam would do something to make her put us out, or something would turn and it’d all go to shit.” He moved his hand to the side of my neck so he could rub his thumb along my jaw. “It takes time, but you settle in. I know it didn’t feel like it, but you two having those big blowups last night is good. He knows what you were feeling, you know where he was at. You built the springboard on top of the shit, so now you can jump off.”
“You and me are a pair, aren’t we?” I grumbled. “Connected by trauma.”
He cupped my jaw, the haze of the gummies retreated and my focus pinpointed on him.
“That isn’t our connection, Raye. Our connection is that we’re survivors, with a healthy dose of you being gorgeous, funny, strong, dressing great, and in the end, giving phenomenal blowjobs.”
I burst out laughing.
