He stares at me for a long time before speaking. “He loved you before he knew you were Jackson’s mother. He loved you even more after.”
“I never intended to imprison his heart, Dirk.”
“But you did.” He straightens and walks toward the front door.
Suddenly feeling nauseous, I stumble to the bathroom. This day has been so emotional, and I haven’t slept well since Brodyshowed up outside my gate. I don’t know why Rachel thought any of this would be a good idea.
The room spins as I fall to the floor in front of the toilet just in time to be sick.
So much for thinking I’d healed myself by talking to a tree. Raffe yelling from the other room as I was being held down by the man I’d met at the mall plays over and over again in my mind.
A muffled cursing comes from behind me, and my hair is suddenly being pulled into a gentle fist. Dirk rubs my back as I empty my stomach. One minute he’s looking at me like I’m scum on the bottom of his shoe, and the next he’s holding my hair as I lose my guts.
I don’t deserve it. I know he’s right. I’ve been lying to myself. Yes, I gave Raffe my son because I was confident that he and Rachel would do what was best for him. However, there is a part of me that did it because I knew it would connect me to Raffe forever. Even if he didn’t know it. Even ifIwas gone and wouldn’t know anything past that moment. It would still be woven into the universe.
If I’m honest, there was this thing inside of me that yearned to be linked to him, something other than our last moments together.
“Jenny! Jenny, I’ll kill him. I promise you I’ll kill him someday. Don’t give up. Just please don’t give up. I’ll find you. I’ll find you!”
I tried to be quiet, because I could hear how much the sound of my pain was torturing him. But it hurt so bad, and I was so scared.
The toilet flushes, and Dirk pushes me back to wash my face. I shove him away and go back for another violent round of being sick.
I threw up every day for two whole months after they took me. They told me it was because I was fighting them. Miraculously, it went away the first time I gave in freely. I got the message loud and clear. They controlled me. I didn’t like being drugged or sick, so I just gave up and did as I was told from then on out.
When I’m finished, I lean against the side of the tub, struggling to catch my breath. “Please tell me they didn’t do to him what they did to me.”
He calmly flushes the toilet and then sits on the floor beside me. I try to scoot away from him, but he stops me by wrapping his hand around the side of my neck and pulling me to face him. He begins to run the washcloth over my eyes before moving on to the rest of my face … just like my mother used to do.
“I’m not a child,” I say, trying to pull out of his grip.
“Fourteen-year-old Jenny didn’t have anyone to wipe her face. She does now.”
I can’t tell what I’m feeling. I’ve never talked to anyone about this … ever. It makes no sense that it’s happening here with him. The same man who saved Raffe.
When he’s finished wiping my face, he looks me in the eye. “One thing you’ll learn about me is that I’m not as soft as my sister. I won’t lie to you.”
My heart breaks into a thousand pieces because I see it in his eyes. Raffe has shared his deepest and darkest secrets with this man, and they are terrible. That is why he came here. He’s worried I’ll hurt his friend.
“Is he … okay?” I whisper.
“You know how it is. It will never leave him, but he has allowed himself to be happy.”
It’s strange sitting here on the floor with Dirk. He doesn’t seem like someone who sits on the bathroom floor very often.
“I’m sorry I triggered you. That was not my intention coming here,” he says.
I know he means it, because he said so himself. He doesn’t lie.
“It’s not your fault. It happens. Sometimes it’s as simple as a dragonfly landing nearby.”
His face softens, and he reaches out and tugs a piece of my hair. “Jackson’s little one looks just like you.”
I dip my head and smile. “I loved meeting her today. She’s the sweetest.”
He nods and looks away. I see the struggle on his face. He came here wanting to be mad at me. It’s hard for him to let that go, but I see he’s trying.
“How often do you think of him?” he asks.
