Page 50 of Rescuing Mary

“What?” Truck asked.

She should’ve known he’d figure out she was remembering something. “I’ve heard you say that before. Do you remember what happened when you got hurt?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

“No. When I woke up, I thought we were in the Middle East.”

“Must have been a surprise to find out you were in Africa, huh?” Mary knew that’s where they’d been because Rayne had told her. She’d heard the basics from Ghost. She didn’t know exactly where or why, but knowing Africa was where he’d been hurt was enough.

“Yeah. I pulled a gun on one of the other Deltas.”

“One of your team?” Mary gasped.

“No. The other one that was with us.”

“Seriously?” Mary asked. When Truck nodded, she said, “Holy shit.”

Truck chuckled. “It was tense there for a minute or two. I pulled a gun. He didn’t pull out his own weapon, but his teammates sure did. Then Coach, Beatle, and Blade reciprocated. Ghost stood between me and the other team, trying to calm me down. There we were, in the middle of an op, all ready to blow each other away.”

Mary couldn’t help but smile at the image he’d put in her mind.

“Of course, calmer heads prevailed, and here I am,” Truck said wryly.

“I’m glad,” Mary told him honestly.

Truck rested his head on his hand and stared at her.

“What?” she asked after a moment, uncomfortable.

“I’m trying to figure out how in the hell I could’ve forgotten you,” Truck said.

That was probably the nicest thing anyone had said to her in a long time, and Mary tried to blow it off. “Probably because I’m a bitch and hold people at arm’s length.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah. Why?”

This was it. The start of the new them. Mary knew she could either deflect his question, or she could take the opportunity to let him know why she was the way she was.

Taking a deep breath, she felt the shield she’d kept wrapped around her for so long crack the slightest bit. “I didn’t have a good childhood.” That was the understatement of the year, but he didn’t say anything, just kept watching her with his intense brown eyes. His quiet contemplation, and the fact he didn’t immediately start asking questions, gave her the courage to continue.

“My mama was a whore. And I don’t mean that in the general name-calling sense. She was literally a whore. She didn’t stand out on street corners or anything, but she went after men who she knew were vulnerable and had money. She’d seduce them, move them in so they could pay her bills, and she milked them for all they were worth. In return for them buying groceries, paying the phone and cable bill and electricity, she slept with them. One of my earliest memories is of Mama fighting with one of my ‘uncles’—that’s what she told me to call them—and when he got fed up and left, she lectured me for hours about how awful men were and how all they wanted was sex. She said that as long as I didn’t expect them to love me, it was okay to spread my legs for them, especially if I got as much out of them as I could. I didn’t know what that meant, I was only four or five, but eventually I understood, because the lecture remained the same for years.”

“That’s awful,” Truck said in a tone that showed no pity, only compassion.

“Yeah. My entire childhood, she pounded into me that men were no good. That they were only useful for money and they only wanted sex. She told me over and over, and showed me by her actions, that they weren’t capable of loving women. I didn’t want to believe her. I mean, I knew she wasn’t the nicest mama in the world, she sure didn’t take care of me, I had to do that on my own. I thought she was full of shit.”

Mary stopped talking. She hadn’t ever told anyone this. Not even Rayne. Oh, her best friend knew her mama was a whore and that she wasn’t very nice, but Mary had never gotten into the details. And now here she was, basically telling a stranger her life history. But somehow that made it easier. He didn’t know anything about her. Had no preconceived ideas about her.

Truck reached out and put his hand on one of her knees. “Go on,” he urged. “Get it all out.”

“This is crazy,” Mary murmured. “We should be talking about our favorite foods or some shit.”

“We’re past that,” Truck said.

Mary rolled her eyes. “You didn’t know I existed an hour ago.”

“But I know you exist now,” Truck countered. “And I can’t explain it, but I think a part of me remembers you. It’s not a memory, per se, but a feeling. Now, what happened?”