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“Marilyn is so reserved,” Tatum said later that night as she lay next to me, her fingers drawing patterns on my chest. “I couldn’t work out whether she liked me or not.”
I tightened my arm around her. “She liked you.”
She pushed up so she was resting on her elbow. “Really? How could you tell?”
I took in Tatum’s questions, her tone and the expression on her face. Smoothing her hair, I said, “You really want her to like you, don’t you?”
She hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”
“Why?”
Her eyes darted away from mine, and I saw the vulnerability in her that she didn’t often show the world.
I tilted her chin so she looked at me again. “Don’t hide from me, Vegas.”
She watched me silently. Always thinking. Always trying to figure out if she could trust me with shit. I didn’t blame her, though. Trust was one of the most sacred things you could give another person. “I like your family. Like, a lot. They’re funny and kind, and they make me feel welcome. I always wanted a home filled with laughter and fun, but we never had that. Even when Chris and I were older, the two of us never had that. I was always running around after him, making sure he was still alive and okay. And he was looking out for me, too, but there wasn’t a lot of fun times.”
“What did you have growing up?” She’d not mentioned her parents much, so I wondered how bad it was.
She settled back against me, curled in close, arm draped over my chest. “My mum was an unhappy woman. She was bored and unfulfilled in her life and never really did fun stuff with us as kids. When she was nine, we came home from school one day and she was gone. No note, no nothing. She’d just packed a bag and disappeared. My father was devastated because she was the love of his life and he’d always gone above and beyond to try and make her happy. Nothing he did was ever good enough, though.”
Jesus, even my early childhood had been better than hers. “But she came back?” I recalled that Tatum had mentioned her mother so I figured she’d been in her life later on.
“Yeah, a year after she left, she returned. It was one of the happiest days of my childhood, but I quickly realised happiness doesn’t always last. Our home only grew quieter and sadder as we all tiptoed around trying to keep Mum happy so she never left us again.”
“Your parents stayed together?”
“Yep, until the day Dad died. And Mum was just as unhappy without him, so I hope she figured out it was her all along who’d failed, not him.” She sounded so harsh towards her mother, but I couldn’t blame her.
“You two weren’t close?”
“I tried, I really did. But when someone doesn’t want to do anything to help their own happiness, it’s hard to be around them. That dark place they’re in will eventually crush your joy. I was already running low on that so I decided I had to stay away as much as I could. I probably saw more of her last year while she was dying than I did for years.” She twisted her head to look up at me. “Guilt makes you do shit like that.”
“It doesn’t sound like you had much to feel guilty over.”
“Guilt is a woman’s cross to bear, Nitro. We’re suckers when it comes to feeling guilty over every damn thing. Hell, we’ll even take everyone else’s shit and feel guilty for that, too.”
She laid her head back on my chest and we fell silent. And then I remembered her earlier question about how I knew that Marilyn liked her. “I know Lynny liked you because she asked you how we met. She never asks people stuff if she doesn’t like them. She can’t be bothered to engage if she doesn’t see a point to it. And when she was leaving, she made a point to say goodbye to you. Again, if she wasn’t interested in getting to know you, my sister wouldn’t say goodbye. She doesn’t use manners like most people do.”
“What happened to her, Nitro?”
“As in just recently or are you asking why she’s so withdrawn in general?”
She moved so she sat cross-legged next to me. “Both.”
I sat up with my back to the headboard of the bed. Talking about Marilyn wasn’t something I did, except with Renee, Dustin, and Marilyn’s doctor. And as much as we annoyed the fuck out of each other sometimes, I’d go to my grave to protect her. But I’d come to the realisation that Marilyn needed more people in her corner, in her life, and if Tatum wanted to get to know her better, she’d need help to do that because Marilyn wouldn’t open up easily.
“Lynny was the kid who didn’t make friends easily. She was withdrawn and sad a lot. Possibly depressed as a teen, but there was never a diagnosis, so I can’t be sure. Our parents died in a car crash when I was twelve. Lynny was six and Dustin was nine. We went to live with our Uncle Joseph in Melbourne. He’s not a good man and living with him was not good for her. Joseph didn’t allow us to leave the house except to go to school. He treated us like slaves around his house.” I took a breath. Dragging this shit up was something I hated to do. Hated to remember what he put us through. “Joseph was involved deeply in organised crime and is now one of the top dogs in Australia. He deals in guns, drugs, and prostitutes. Back then, though, he was building his business up. The day I turned thirteen, he started teaching me how to shoot a gun. By the time I turned fifteen, I knew how to shoot any gun given to me, kill with a knife, and torture someone to get information. Dustin was slow developmentally so Joseph had no interest in him. And Lynny was a girl so she was only good for stuff around the house. Even when she was young, like seven, he put her to work. Most of the time, though, she spent in her bedroom by herself.”
Tatum stared at me in shock. “Oh my God, Nitro, that’s awful.”
“Yeah, and it fucked us all up. Joseph trained me as a soldier. It was regimented and brutal. Some of the shit he put me through…. It’s deeply ingrained in me, Tatum. I’m violent because of him and no matter how hard I might want to change that, I can’t. You need to know this about me because sometimes I can’t switch it off.”
Fuck, she needed to take this in. I didn’t want to hurt her, but fuck knew what was down the track. I couldn’t predict the future and I sure as hell couldn’t always predict my own behaviour. The wiring in my brain had been screwed with, and my reactions to situations and people weren't always what I thought they would be. Sometimes the rage blinded me and I was helpless to react in any way but with violence.
Tatum pushed up so she was kneeling and then she straddled me. Bringing her hands to my face, she cupped my cheeks and kissed me. It was unlike any of our other kisses. There was no wild energy to it, just an intimacy that was new. When she ended the kiss, she said, “I know you have that violence and darkness in you, Nitro, but I’ve seen so much more than that. You saved my life when you could have easily chosen a different path. Even when I begged you to end my life, you didn’t. And yes, I’ve seen your inner struggle with your actions, but I feel safe with you. I know you get pissed off with me, but you always protect me. And that’s more than I can say for most of the people who have been in my life.”
I ran my hands over the bare skin of her back. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Vegas. You hardly know me.”
