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Clawing at my ribs.
Longing to soothe his pain.
“She got more and more upset.” His voice is steady, but his eyes convey his distress. “She grabbed me by my shirt and told me I was good for nothing just like my father. She said he never got his act together. That he ruined everything he touched. And that’s why she abandoned me.” His lips tug up, but it’s a bitter, sorrowful smile. “Because I’m just like him.”
The words slash into the room.
Evil.
Disgusting.
I can’t stay still any longer. Moving swiftly, I fling my arms around Hansley and hold him tight. “You know that’s not true.”
He dips his head in my shoulder and hugs me back.
His breath hits the side of my neck.
I want to wrap him up inside me and never let him go.
“That’s not true, Hansley,” I whisper fiercely.
My imagination carries me away to that park.
Green trees all around. The sound of laughter in the air.
Kites flying. Dogs barking.
And in the midst of the happiness and peace, a little boy stands in front of his mother, flinching as she tears him down. As she stomps on his worth. As she curses him and calls him nothing.
I pull back, noticing the muscles clenching and unclenching in his jaw. There are no tears. None in his eyes. None in his voice.
This is just a fact to him.
Because these scars run so much deeper than this moment.
They’re scraped against his soul. Oozing. Open.
Never managing to heal.
“That’s why you didn’t confess to Sharon.” The dots connect in my mind. “You loved her, but… you didn’t want to ruin her.” I sigh. “Hansley…”
“I changed that day. I know I did. And not for the better.” He nods. “But every morning I woke up, her words would be in the back of my head. And I’d wonder if they were true. The fear of her being right took over my life. Maybe I was just like him.” He scowls. “Maybe I was just like my father.”
“A sperm donor is not a father.” I stare intently into his eyes. “A father protects, provides and gives identity. A father is there. And you have a father that’s there for you. Who taught you how to love. You’re nothing like the guy who—”
“I share half his DNA, Asia,” Hansley snaps. “He’s a part of me.”
I flinch.
His eyes dart back and forth as despair creeps through his expression. “I can’t live with myself if I turn out to be like him. If I hurt someone I love, I’ll know why. And I can’t…”
As a tear drips down my cheek, I lean over and kiss him desperately. “You’re better than that.”
He shakes his head. Tries to push me away.
I hold on tight. “I trust you, Hansley. I trust you.”
This time, he kisses me.
