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“I know I have to do the work for myself. But you being there helps. That’s the point, Mick. Growing, getting better, moving beyond our pasts so that we’re at our best together. It’s about being each other’s safe space.”
“I’ve always wanted to make you feel safe,” he says quietly. “I know your parents never gave you the security you needed. I wanted to do that for you. And it kills me that I haven’t.”
His admission scrapes my soul raw. “I do feel safe with you. I love that you are strong and protective. But sometimes you’re too strong, too protective.”
“I make you feel fragile.” He remembered. He listened. He cares. He just doesn’t know how to deal with it.
“You challenge me to be sure of myself, to be more confident, but then you won’t let me face the tough things with you.”
“I know you’re not fragile, Dee. But Malcolm is outside of the realm of tough things. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“He can’t hurt me, Mick. And he can’t hurt our family either. Not if we don’t let him.”
“I’m not going to let him.”
“You think more money is going to fix this?” When he doesn’t respond, I continue. “It won’t. It might afford you more time as he strings you along, playing his sick games. But it will still chain you to him and to your past. You have to tell the family. You have to let us help you.”
I can feel the tension coursing through him; every muscle in his body deflecting my words. “That’s never going to happen.” He releases me and steps away. “I won’t risk you. And I won’t have Mama T and Victor blaming themselves.”
I ache for him that his own experience makes him believe that. “You don’t have to keep protecting them, Mick. Mama T and Victor will put the blame where it belongs. On Malcolm.”
“And take plenty for themselves.”
“What about Dwayde then?” It’s fighting dirty, but I’m desperate. “Have you considered what this could mean to him?”
“This has nothing to do with Dwayde.”
“He respects and admires you. Can you imagine how inspiring it would be for him to hear how you survived your abuse too and grew up to be this amazing man? It’s even possible that you telling the family your long-kept secrets could be the catalyst Dwayde needs to tell us his.”
“You don’t know when to quit.” He stalks away.
“Mick.” I follow.
“Let it go, Dee. Stop pushing me.”
But I stand my ground. After a lifetime of doubting myself, of never truly feeling planted or rooted, it finally feels firm beneath my feet. Because I’m changing. Because I know that facing my demons is the only way to conquer them. Mick needs to do the same, even if he isn’t ready to acknowledge that yet.
“You’re not that nineteen-year-old boy anymore.” I put my hand over his heart. Feel it thumping hard and fast against my palm. “You may not have thought you had a choice when Malcolm gave you that ultimatum then. But you do now. You can choose not to be shackled to him anymore. You have the key to free yourself, Mick. You only have to use it.”
ChapterTwenty-Two
Micah
After running for ten miles,I return to the house. Dee has left for work, which saves me from another unwanted argument. I power wash and seal the patio stones out back. She had made her point. Knocked me over the head with it. But how do I make this need to protect her from everything bad just go away? I know it’s unrealistic. Just as I know she’s right that it all comes back to failing my mother. I see that—I’m not blind to my issues—but guilt isn’t a light switch I can just turn off.
I guzzle down a glass of water. My thoughts won’t stop. I pull out my phone. Malcolm’s text is still there. Obnoxious and mocking. I could call Nolan and have the money ready by tomorrow. I could add on another $10 million, but it still wouldn’t be enough. No amount is ever going to satisfy him. Not when what he really wants is to cut Dee out of my life, to make me bleed, to make me suffer. That has me wanting to punch the fucking wall. Instead, I put the phone away and finish securing the fence boards.
When I’m done, I come inside the house to shower. As I go to get my clothes from the drawer, I notice a book on top of the dresser. I haven’t seen it before. The cover is off-white and made of some kind of crinkly aged or vintage-looking paper with dried flowers.
Curious, I pick it up. There’s nothing written on the front. Nothing to indicate what it is or what it’s for. I flip open the cover. Across the top of the first page is a title penned in Dee’s flowy cursive:Dee’s Personal Aspirations Journey.
Realizing I have stumbled onto something private, I should stop. Dee hadn’t given me permission to read this. But neither had she hidden it. She’d left it right here in plain sight, unless she’d left it out by accident. Either way, I really shouldn’t, even though I know there’s nothing that I’m telling myself that’s going to stop me.
Deflecting a stab of conscience, I let my gaze slide down to read what she’s written.
Emotion crowds my throat. This is what Dee must have meant aboutdoing the work. Bravely taking on her fears and insecurities, shedding her baggage. I skim my fingers over the words. Feel her blossoming in each one.
That’s the point, Mick. Growing…getting better…so that we can be at our best together.
