AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lindy bends her head, but not before her eyes flash with something hard—something close to regret or even shame—which makes my chest hurt more than anything.
“No, it’s nothing like that. It was…most people would think it was nothing…just a guy who used to stare at me. But it made me uncomfortable, and it made me feel like I’d done something to warrant being stared at like that. Like it was my fault. It only happened when no one else was around, which I hardly ever let happen, but it…the guy was my adopted dad. I told my sister about it, but she didn’t want to risk getting kicked out of their house. I…I grew up…uh, god, this is all wrong. This is so wrong. I…I didn’t want you to know any of this.”
Her adopted dad? Her adopted dad stared at her? He made her feel horrible and frightened her? He is someone who should have kept her safe, not looked at her like he wanted to consume her. He should not have made her uncertain of her own self, scared to be in the same house, and afraid to sleep at night because the fucking bastard was some kind of predator.
She scrambles off the counter, grabs her jeans, and jams them on. Then, she looks around frantically for her shoes and lets out a groan when she spots the one in the middle of the cake. Her slight hesitation gives me time to catch up with her, sweep her into my arms, and hold her tight against my chest. Her cheek hits my pec, and her breath comes out hard against my skin, but she doesn’t pull away. She lets me hold her.
“Hey,” I whisper, caressing her hair. “It’s fine that I know. I’m not going to see you any differently. Well, maybe yes, I will, but not in a bad way at all. You’re brilliant, talented, and beautiful, especially now that I know you’re a survivor too. I’m sorry for how you grew up because I can tell from your expression that it wasn’t good and safe, and you weren’t loved or properly cared for. I can’t imagine being a kid raised that way. My dad left when I was young, and it hurt, but I always had my mom, my brother, my cousins, and my granny. We stuck together. Did you have anyone?” I continue to run my hand over her hair in small circles before trailing it down her back and tracing calming little circles there too.
“My sister,” she whispers. “We only ever had each other. My mom was…she was on and off drugs ever since we were little. I don’t remember much about it, but she got arrested for possession. It was the third time, so she went to prison. I was three, whereas Lisa was five. We were in the system after that, bouncing around in foster care. Some of the places we ended up at…” She shudders, which gets rage flowing through me all over again.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say, even though it’s not nearly enough. Nothing would be. There aren’t words for finding out that someone suffered for years as a child.
She pulls back a little, rubs her hands over her eyes, and blinks at me. She tries to smile, but she can’t, and I hate that. I hate that she can’t smile. I’d do anything to make her happy at this moment. And the next moment from now and the one after that. Anything. I’d give just about anything to see her smile, to kiss her smile, and to hear her laugh.
“Anyway, it’s over and done with, and I don’t think about it a lot anymore. I’ve done a few years of online therapy, so I think I’m pretty well adjusted, all things considered. My sister and I turned out quite normal. We always had each other, and we were fortunate that way because a lot of siblings get split up. We got adopted when we were quite a bit older. Joan was a good woman, but she was always kind of…I don’t know…detached in a way. She was nice, but she was more like a friend than a mom. And Phil…well, he used to stare at me. I don’t think he would ever have been brave enough to do anything, but it was just…I was young, and it weirded me out.
“I moved out when I was eighteen since I wasn’t scared of being on my own. I do miss my sister, but we hardly talk, even now. I’ve been gone for six years, and when I left Seattle for good, it was…I don’t know. I don’t know if we’ll ever get our relationship back. I do hope we will, though, one day. I…” She drops her gaze to the floor. “I did therapy for the sexual harassment too, not just for my childhood stuff. Phil never did anything, but whenever I tried to date someone or tried to be with someone, even just a kiss, I’d see Phil in my mind, and I’d always feel dirty. Like I was wrong and didn’t deserve to feel good or be happy that way. And I felt like if I did anything other than innocent things, it was wrong and bad. That I was a pervert or a deviant, and the world would just fall in on me.”
