I suck at this game.
“I escaped to Robyn’s house. Her family actually was like a TV family. They laughed so much. And they always made me feel like I was welcome there. It was…wonderful.”
“Do you still talk to Robyn?”
I shake my head. “We kept in touch through college. She went across the country, but that didn’t matter. We still connected. But when I left school and married Brent…I couldn’t.” It’s still one of the biggest regrets of my life, the way I just let her go, the way I gave up.
“Why?” He asks, sliding a little closer.
“When you’re spending your day just trying to survive, it’s hard to always put on a happy face, you know?” I pick up one of the little game pegs, rolling it between my fingers. “Robyn would be telling me about a party she’d gone to, or how awful her finals were. She was living this big life. And I…well, what could I say when she asked how I was?”
“You didn’t want to tell her the truth?”He asks, frowning.“Why?”
How on earth do I explain my weakness to a man who can bench press four of me? “Because I felt stupid! I made a really stupid choice, and then I was stuck. I felt like I was living on a different planet than everyone else.”
He’s quiet, studying me with kind eyes. “Did you tell anyone about Brent?”
I shift uncomfortably. “I told my parents. It was a few years after we got married. I asked them to let me stay with them. They told me I made my bed, and that it was my job to submit to my husband. I didn’t try again after that.”
Micah’s lips are curled in disgust, and I feel smaller. Less.
It’s not my fault, I remind myself. But when someone looks at me like that, I can’t help but internalize the disgust. Because it was me that stayed.
“Fuckers,” he says fiercely, reaching up to rub my arm. It’s hypnotic, watching those scarred, tanned fingers brush my pale skin. “How…get…away?” He’s still stroking me, touching me. Distracting me from my story.
“Um…it was Evie.” His fingers are creating little ripples of electricity, traveling up my arm, into my shoulder. Tingling into the back of my neck. All of it from a simple touch on my arm. In all the years of my marriage, I never once felt anything near this powerful.
“Evie,” he prompts, eyebrows raised.
“Evie right…she was a nurse at the hospital I volunteered at. We were close, I mean as close as I let anybody get.” My lips curl remembering her bright smile. “She had the best laugh. It was so big, it would draw you in. I loved being around her and her energy. She was everything I wished I could be.”
“Holly,” he says, drawing my eyes. I like how he does that, just says my name, and waits patiently. He would be well within his rights to get frustrated with me. Looking away from him takes away his option to communicate. It’s a rude thing to do.
“She sounds great. I’m glad you had her. How did she help you get away?”
I drift in the memories of my old life. Of the woman who saved me.“She’s so smart. She worked with the babies in the NICU, so we’d talk while I rocked them. Some of them were so fragile, but it helped, you know?”
He tilts his head. “What helped?”
“Some of the babies were born addicted. They would have to detox, and often the mothers either couldn’t or wouldn’t be there. I used to tuck them right against my chest.” I cup my hands, pressing them just above my breasts, remembering the slight warm weight of the babies I held. “The nurses always said it helped them, that their scores got better.”
Micah’s eyes are locked on my hands. I slowly lower them to my lap. His eyes don’t follow them like I expected. No, his eyes are glazed as he stares right at my breasts. He seems frozen. I carefully reach over, using my forefinger to tip his chin up. His sheepish gaze meets mine. “You can’t blame me for looking. I can’t help it.”
“Brent used to stare, but…it never felt like this.”
His eyes sharpen. “How….feels?”
“Ah…warm.” I cover my red cheeks. Micah’s gleeful chuckle makes me smile despite my embarrassment.
“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat. “Evie invited me to grab coffee in the cafeteria after a shift, and I said yes. Brent was working late that day, but if he found out I didn’t go straight home, I had a cover story ready.”
“What was the cover story?”
“Another volunteer was late for their shift, and I had to stay a bit longer.” Best to keep things simple. I learned quickly that if the lie got too complicated, Brent would pick it apart in seconds. Apparently I have tells, since Brent could always spot when I was lying.
He nods approvingly. “Simple. Clean. Smart.”
“That’s what I thought. Anyway, when we sat down, she laid it all out…she had been recording every bruise she saw, every time I acted stiff or sore, and wrote it all down in a little notebook.” I swallow thickly, the panic of that day still fresh in my memory. “I was terrified that she’d tell someone, that she would force me to make a report.”
