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I walk into the bathroom and Faith is at the sink now, splashing water on her face. There’s a small cup and an open bottle of mouthwash there too. Clearly I took way too long looking at the shit Brad sent. I should have been in here, seeing to her.
“You okay, Faith?”
Her eyes come to mine in the mirror and I see the circles under them that makeup hid before. She’s not been sleeping. That much is clear. Another gut punch. I feel like I’m missing a huge piece to the puzzle, but one thing is crystal clear. Faith has not been taking care of herself. She needs someone to watch over her and clearly, I’ve been dragging my feet when I should have just taken control from the beginning. There’s a time to take things slow and I thought that was how to deal with Faith.
I was wrong. I thought I was wrong after the doctor visit and now I know I was.
“Titan… I—”
“Who’s Brad?” I ask before she can finish.
That troubled look moves through her face again and I can feel the tension from her body tighten.
“A mistake,” she says softly, almost so softly I can’t hear.
“Come here, Faith,” I order her, but I do it gently. She needs gentle from me right now and because of that I tap down any of the jealousy and anger I didn’t get a handle on before. Surprisingly, she walks to me. I take her into my arms and she buries her face into my chest. I feel a shudder go through her and I hold her tighter, letting my fingers drift through her hair. “Talk to me,” I tell her quietly.
Her body pushes deeper into mine, her nails bite into my back and again her body trembles. Without thought, I pick her up and carry her into the bedroom. I sit on the bed and lean back against the headboard, bringing her against my chest and holding her.
She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. She hasn’t shed them, but the moisture is gathered—I can see them, and I do not like them. Whatever she’s about to tell me, I already know that I’m not going to like this Brad.
Not at all.
forty-four
faith
I don’t know how long I’ve been in Titan’s arms. I don’t know and I don’t care. It feels like heaven and it’s something I’ve wanted since I left him in Colorado. As stupid as it sounds, it feels like coming home. He doesn’t question me further, he just holds me, his fingers sifting through my hair and his heartbeat vibrating in my ear. I want to stay like this, but I know I need to explain why I got upset. I need to tell him about Brad, if only because Brad seems to be intent on making sure I don’t forget him. So I take a deep, shuddering breath and pull my head from Titan’s chest to look up at him.
“Brad was my boyfriend,” I tell him and Titan’s face goes tight. I don’t know how I know what he’s thinking, but I do, and I reach up to move my thumb along the side of his chin. “I left him months before I ever met you in Vegas. He’s part of the reason I knew relationships and marriage weren’t ever going to be a part of my plan.”
“That ugly?” he asks, his voice so quiet that I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him talk that soft. “You seemed happy in that picture,” he adds and I know he didn’t mean it to sound like an accusation, but that’s how it feels. I’m just sensitive right now. As always, when dealing with anything related to Brad, I feel stupid.
“That picture wasn’t long after I met him and it was our first real date. I had stars in my eyes. Brad was the first man who ever acted like he cared about me. Hell, except for my dad, sisters, and my dad’s family, he was the only person. Which I guess, thinking on it, made me an easy mark.”
“How long were you with him?”
“Two years.”
“That’s a long time,” Titan says and he’s not wrong, but he’s also not right.
“I would have left him—should have left him way before I did. It hadn’t been good for over a year.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I’m not sure. At first I thought it would get better, just a rough patch and all couples go through it… You know?” I ask, looking up at him. He nods slightly, but doesn’t speak, so I keep going. “But then, the arguments got louder, darker, and every time I started to leave Brad would do something to show me he loved me and was willing to start over. It began this cycle I never seemed to break free of. We’d fight, he’d break stuff and scare me, but he always apologized and promised to do better. He had a way of twisting words that made me feel like the fight—like our problems—were all my fault. He made me feel like I didn’t work hard enough to understand him—that I somehow failed him.”
