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Then again, who wanted to remember trauma?
I cleared my throat and told Brad the story.
“You really don’t remember?”
“I don’t. Sometimes I wish I could, but other times I’m glad I can’t.”
“Why would anyone bully you?”
“Why does anyone bully anyone? I have no idea.”
“Usually because they’re weak or jealous,” he said. “In your case, it was probably both. They were weak, and they were jealous of you.”
“Why would anyone be jealous of me?”
“Because you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
I smiled. His words made me feel warm and cozy inside. Special. Protected. His words were like a suit of armor that would conceal and protect me so no one could ever hurt me again.
“You didn’t have any problem when you went back to school?”
“No. Those girls were gone, and everyone else was nice, though most were distant.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I’d been gone for a year. My few friends and I had grown apart, and my best friend had moved. It was different. Not great, but I made it through.”
Brad stared at me, his eyes meeting mine as if he were searching for something.
Something I couldn’t put my finger on.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Brad
I should drive her back to campus. See her safely to her dorm room and never set eyes on her again.
But that wouldn’t happen. She was inside me now, a part of me, almost as if I’d grown a new limb. It sounded crazy even to me, but I couldn’t deny the truth.
Daphne Wade was like a beautiful castle fashioned out of sand. One tide could come in and topple everything. She was fragile. So fragile yet so strong. Not everyone could get through such a year and come out swinging, ready for college.
Daphne was the ultimate paradox—and she was mine.
From the first time I laid eyes on her, I’d wanted to protect her. I didn’t know why then, but I knew now. She needed me.
And I needed her.
I needed something sweet and good in my life.
But could I in good conscience bring this fragile woman into my fucked-up universe? I’d done things I could never take back, things that could have consequences far into the future. I could mitigate the fallout. Indeed, I had and would continue to. But some things were beyond my control.
I had to believe. I had to believe in the goodness of humankind. I deserved happiness, and so did Daphne. We could find it together.
She needed me, and I needed her.
A life with her would never be easy or simple, but then a life with me wouldn’t be either.
I reached forward and touched her silken cheek.
She smiled into my hand. “You didn’t run away screaming.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I just told you I spent time in a mental hospital.”
I smiled. “You’re not the first person I’ve known who spent time in a mental hospital.”
“Oh?”
“My mother was hospitalized while I was in high school.”
“I’m so sorry. Why?”
“It’s a long story. Her relationship with my dad has been strained since the accident. My dad… Well, he’s not the best husband in the world.” I didn’t want to lay all the details on Daphne yet.
“Is she okay now?”
“She is. She has things in her life that make her happy.”
Daphne smiled. “I bet you’re one of them.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t adore her more. “Let’s go back to the ranch,” I said. “It’s nearly dinnertime, and then I want to take you someplace special tonight.”
My mother’s greenhouse was about a mile away from the main ranch house. She kept her favorite flower, the tulip, in bloom all year long. I cut a bright-yellow bloom from one of the bulbs and handed it to Daphne.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a tulip in the fall.”
“To say my mom has a green thumb is an understatement. She has a way with all plants, but she especially loves spring flowers.”
“Your mother must be an amazing woman.”
“She is. She’s strong. Getting help doesn’t make you weak, Daphne. It makes you strong.”
She nodded. “This is a beautiful place.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“Is that why you brought me here?”
“Yeah, but also because it reminds me of you. The way you said you love the sunrise. This place, where flowers bloom all year round, is like a constant sunrise.”
“It is. It’s wonderful.” She walked toward another cluster of tulips, the palest green. “These look sad.”
“Those are my mother’s favorite.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. What do you mean when you say they look sad?”
“It’s almost like nature forgot to finish their color.”
“I never thought about it like that.” I cut a bloom and handed it to her. It did look pale and sad against the bright yellow of the first flower.
“Night and day,” she said, holding them both. “One is the moon, the other the sun. The light drives out the dark.”
“You have a way with words,” I said. “Have you thought about majoring in English? Maybe doing some writing?”
