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I turned my face up to plant a kiss into his neck, a gesture that was a bit gushy, a bit sweet for me.
Then, like the universe knew things were getting too intense for me, my belly let out a grumble and Shane chuckled beneath me, a sound I found way too appealing.
“Alright. Let me up. I’ll deal with the condom and feed you.”
On a small grumble, I did, accepting the tee when he tossed it back at me. He leaned down to grab his pants before moving into the bathroom for a minute. After that, he went to the kitchen and got us stew, coming back and handing me mine where I was sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed and moving himself to sit back against the headboard.
We ate in silence for a long while before he broke it.
“Those walls are down,” he said, his voice low. “Might be the only chance I get to ask this so…”
“Don’t,” I half-demanded, half-pleaded. “Don’t ruin it.”
He ignored me though, and went on. “Who fucked you over so bad that you can’t even give me a chance?”
I paused at that, knowing a lie wouldn’t be convincing, but not ready to go there, not ready to peel back the healing layer and expose the ugly wound underneath. “Shane…”
“Lea, fuck, baby… give me something. I’m not asking for every piece. Just… give me something.”
There was a bit of pleading in his tone and maybe that was what did it, that made my mouth open and admit something I hadn’t admitted to anyone out loud except the people at the crisis line I had called in a particularly weak, low moment right after I left.
“My last ex,” I started, squeezing my eyes tight even though it was already pitch black in the room.
When I didn’t, couldn’t, go on, Shane prompted. “What’d he do to you, Lea?” he asked, his voice a comforting tone as his free hand moved out and landed on my knee, squeezing.
I shook my head, pressing my lips together for a long minute, trying to find a way to say it without really having to say it. “He did the kind of things that makes a woman decide to leave everything and everyone she loves and not look back,” I admitted, my heart squeezing hard in my chest.
I heard Shane’s bowl slam down on the nightstand and, a second later, felt mine pulled from my hands to join his on the nightstand. Then his arm went around my shoulders, grabbing me, pulling me against him, folding me into his side. His head turned and planted a kiss to the top of my head and I had a sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry.
“Okay,” he said, his voice a little rough, but calm, accepting. There was no judgement.
That was my biggest fear in admitting the truth, even pieces of the truth- that people would think I was weak for going through it. I had felt that exact same way before it happened to me- just leave. Just fucking leave you weakass. Chop off his dick and flip off his castrated body as you hightailed it out of town.
“I stayed…” I admitted, not knowing why.
Shane exhaled hard. “Let me put this in a way that might help you put things into perspective, okay?” he asked, pausing and waiting for me to nod. “If you put a frog into a pot of boiling water, the fucker will jump right back out. It knows it’s wrong, it hurts, it will kill him. But if you put him in a pot and slowly raise it up to boiling, he’ll stay. That’s what abuse is like. You might not even notice it’s happening at first. You’d brush it off as him having a bad day, you pissing him off. But then it starts getting worse in small ways until you’re in so deep and you’re so hot and your skin is peeling and you don’t know if you even remember you can jump anymore. That doesn’t make you weak. You got out of that shit, baby. That makes you stronger, a lot stronger, I think, than you even realize.”
I closed my eyes again, trying not to get as emotional as I was starting to feel.
He got it.
He understood.
God.
God.
I didn’t think anyone would ever understand.
“You want your food back or do you want sleep?” he asked, letting it drop, and I was never more thankful for anything in my life.
“Sleep,” I admitted, not sure it would come, but it gave me an excuse to be silent.
“Okay,” he said, sliding down on the mattress, pulling me along with him, then situating me on his chest, one arm slung across my lower back, the other stroking through my messy and mostly-dry hair for a long time until his breath went deep and steady and I knew he was asleep.
