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He nodded. “Yes. It was my mamma’s.”
“Was?” I frowned. “Is she…” The way his face closed up told the tale without me saying the rest. “Oh, God, Gio, I’m so sorry.”
I knew all too well what it was like to lose your mother too young. And your father. And the happy homelife you’d had for what felt like way too short a time, only to watch it end in a fingersnap.
“Thank you. It was six years ago, but it doesn’t feel that way. Not here.” He held my hand to his heart and the beat was uneven and wild.
Just like it had been for us when we were locked together, except for a whole different reason.
“No. Me either.” I swallowed hard and studied his darker fingers curled around my lighter ones. “I was eight when mine passed.”
“The blood.”
I lifted my head. “What?”
“Mia said something about the blood earlier, and your mother. That it was why you didn’t do well with the sight of it.”
“Oh. Guess I was passed out then. Or on the way.” I sighed. “She had an aneurysm. It’s an awful way to go. I found her, and by then, it was…too late. I blocked it out for a while after. Kinda my way of dealing. Mia fights in reaction to stress, and I go into denial.” I swallowed again and found that the lump in my throat hadn’t budged. “I so don’t want to be like this about sex every time. If sex is my new blood, that would really suck.”
He smiled down at me, and though I knew he was probably laughing at me in his head, at least a little, there was no mocking in his expression. “We’ll have to make sure that’s not the case.”
I linked my arms around his neck, grateful that they were steady once again. He’d helped just by being there. By talking me through it. By listening to whatever wacked out thing popped out of my mouth. “Someday, maybe I can tell you about Mia. My side of it, like you said. I guess I never realized I had a part of the story. It was hers, and I was a bystander.”
“You’re never a bystander when someone you love gets hurt.” He brushed my hair out of my eyes. “She’s lucky to have someone so loyal in her corner.”
“If you only knew the thoughts I’ve had now and then, you wouldn’t say that. I’m no angel.”
“Neither am I, so you’ll find no judgment here.”
Looking into his deep, dark eyes, I saw the truth in his words. Nothing I could say to him
would shock him, the guy with the attempted murder rap on his record and who knows what else. He’d lived a life far worse than my small crimes of sometimes thinking mean thoughts about my sister’s overprotectiveness. Or my warped sense of jealousy at all the attention she’d gotten over the years once anyone discovered what she’d lived through.
I’d lived through something too. I’d lost my parents, and for three months, my big sister. My rock. She’d come back, but she wasn’t the same. And because she wasn’t, I wasn’t either.
And even I knew how fucking pathetic and petty that sounded, even just echoing in my own head.
For all these years, we’d both been broken. Her for real, and me by proxy. Last week had opened up the fissures I’d denied were inside me, turning them into big, gaping cracks.
“I love her so much.” Shame heated my face. “I swear I do.”
“I know. Anyone can see that.”
“She doesn’t understand how I can be so free with my body, and for good reason, considering. But it was a power trip for me. I liked being a tease. I know that isn’t right—”
“Did you ever lie to a man about what you intended to happen?”
“No,” I replied quickly, hotly. “Never. I just flirted. Too much sometimes.”
“You’re allowed to flirt and set boundaries wherever you choose. It’s the man’s job to respect them. To respect you, and himself.” He caressed my lower lip with the tip of his thumb. “You’ll never know how sorry I am that I was part of something that made you judge yourself harshly. You don’t deserve it. The things they said weren’t true, or right. It’s your body. You can dance or do whatever you want, and if someone has a problem with that, it’s theirs. Not yours.”
I pressed my face into his chest, closing my eyes before the heat in them spilled over. “Thank you for saying that. For being here.”
“I wish I could erase that night.” He pressed his cheek to the top of my head, and for a second, I wondered if the thickness I heard in his voice symbolized more. If his eyes would be damp too. “I’m so sorry.”
I reeled back, lifting my head. “No, don’t say that. I don’t want to erase it.”
He only stared at me.
