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“I did it to survive,” I admit with a defeated sigh.
In front of me, Coen’s hazel-colored eyes flash between sympathy and hurt, but I can’t bring myself to look away. “Was he the only one?”
“No,” I squeak. “I don’t know who the others were… VIPs, but I don’t know them or what they looked like.”
Coen continues to scrutinize me as he asks if I’ve ever done it before, and when I say no, he finally lets go of my face. “I get it, and to me, you didn’t cheat. I can’t speak for my brothers, that’s up to them.” Then he leans in and kisses my forehead. “You need to tell us everything, though. What you had to survive and how you did it. Otherwise, you can’t ask us to make a decision.”
I know the last part is added for Kas and Alec’s benefit. Coen is a master at reading people, and with his line of profession, I have no doubt he’s guessed what they haven’t, and I don’t quite know how I feel about that.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I croak, and Alec barely manages to point in the direction I need before I get up and run there. I barely have time to lower myself over the bowl before I’m dry-heaving and retching into the porcelain.
I can still hear the guys murmuring, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Honestly, I’m glad to be away from them for a few minutes. I feel I can breathe easier without their intense gazes on me, without having to answer their questions.
Once I can breathe normally again, I hoist myself back up and fumble for the handle to flush the toilet, even though I didn’t bring anything back up. I barely manage to rinse my mouth with ice-cold water before Coen knocks on the door. “I’m coming in.” Without waiting for my answer, he opens the door and switches the light on, which I didn’t think about in my haste.
“Alec and Kas went to the gas station to get you a toothbrush, and I need you to tell me everything before they come back.” As my shoulders rise to my ears on their own, he adds, “I know it sucks, but I can’t help you if you don’t come clean with me.”
Knowing I have little choice if I want the guys—I let myself slide down to the floor and move, so my back is resting against the wall—and since I love them, I’m not willing to let go without doing everything I can to keep them.
“He would call me into his office and make me crawl for him, always insisting I didn’t wear underwear or cover myself up.” A tremor runs through my body, but I force myself to continue. “He jerked himself off looking at my body.” My voice stays steady throughout the facts I’m sharing.
Even though it happened to me, I refuse to feel that.
Coen nods and asks, “And what did you mean you did it to survive?”
“I-I… It wasn’t me, it was Amanda.” I immediately slap a hand over my mouth, wishing I could unspeak the words. “I mean—”
Sitting down next to me, Coen says, “I think I know what you mean, but I think you should tell me, anyway.”
So I do. I explain about the helplessness, the loss, the lack of power, the frustration, the anger, and the overwhelming feeling of fear and longing for what I couldn’t have. But through it all, I feel as though I’m an observer.
“I didn’t mean to do it, but she—I—needed to feel in charge.” My shoulders droop, and I’m too fearful to meet Coen’s eyes. “I didn’t get any pleasure from it, and I didn’t want them like that. I only wanted the feeling they gave me, and—”
“What else, Mia?” Coen asks in a soft tone before brushing some of my hair away from my face.
Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath before letting out a shuddering exhale. “I don’t know… A part of me felt that was all I was good for.” My voice cracks, and I hide my face in my hands as I let go of my emotions.
Coen pulls me closer to him and holds me while whispering soothing words.
He keeps holding me until we hear a door open and the sound of Alec’s and Kas’ voices.
“Do you still want us? Them? Me?” Coen asks, and when I nod, he offers to tell them for me, but I decline.
On a sigh, I allow myself to ask the question I’ve kept to myself, the very one that scares me like nothing ever has before. “What if I’m too broken?”
“We’re all broken,” Coen assures me with zero hesitation. Then he pulls his sleeve up and points to different parts of his tattoo. “Although some of us are better at putting the pieces back together and hiding our scars behind a mask that society will accept, that doesn’t mean we’re less broken or flawed.”
I roll my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on the tender skin as I let his words flow through me. “I guess you’re right,” I say in a voice that holds evidence of how exhausted and scared I am.
“Do you want me to talk to them?” Coen reiterates his question from before.
The gentle look in his eyes lets me know he won’t judge me if I decide to take the easy way out, and I can’t deny I’m tempted.
“No, I can’t let you do that,” I say in a weak voice. “I need to do it.”
Even though Coen sounds sympathetic and acts like I did nothing wrong, he’s still tense. Afraid he’s about to change his mind, I cling to him and whisper another useless apology.
“Stop apologizing, Mia. You have done nothing wrong.” Coen takes a deep breath before adding, “This is all my fault. I’m the reason any of this happened, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
I’m confused when his voice wavers, and I feel his body trembling against mine.
“This isn’t your fault, Coen. I did this,” I insist, even as I feel him shake his head.
