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“My father told me that if I ever let anyone know it was him who did that to me, he'd fly to France and kill my mother. The story I was to tell everyone was that I fell out of a tree and hurt myself. Over the years, I had several accidents like that.”
He blows out a ring of smoke and looks back at me. “The beating stopped when many years later when Knight kicked Bastian's ass. It was the first time that my father saw us retaliate, and I guess he must have worried that if Knight found out what he was doing to me, he’d tell my grandfather. We had a few good years, or rather I did until I was in my teens. My father kicked my ass again because I accidentally crashed my car into Bastian's at a party. Months later, another fight broke out between Knight and Bastion. That was worse than the first because he almost killed him for calling our mother a slut. That time, I didn't bounce back. Instead, I turned to drugs.”
I’m about to comment then I note the timeline. He said he was in his late teens. This happened to him when he was with me.
“Jericho, we were together then.”
He nods, slowly, confirming, and shocking me further.
“I never knew. How could I have not known? I couldn't even tell.”
“I hid it very well.” Shame spreads across his face. “Too well. Remember that spring break when I told you I went to France and I’d be away for a few weeks?”
I nod, remembering very well. It was the first time we'd been apart. He was a senior, so I was worried. He'd gone to some party for spring break.
“I was in rehab,” he confesses.
I bring my hand to my mouth.
“That was when I told my grandfather what was happening to me and what had happened with my father. He stepped in and got me the help I needed. I went to him when I realized I was out of control.”
“Did he do something about your father?”
“He gave him a taste of his own medicine. I remember seeing him with two black eyes and a broken nose before I went off to rehab. But knowing my grandfather, he would have punished my father in worse ways that would have crippled him. Something more effective than going to the police or exposing him.”
“I truly hope so.”
“He did. I was clean for a few years after rehab but of course my father struck again. This time he tried to send Knight and I back to France. My grandfather stood up by getting an injunction on his powers in the company. But at that point I’d had enough. I turned to drugs one last time and it was the most damning. I made some decisions I shouldn't have made. It took finding my dealer dead on his doorstep from an overdose for me to stop. I let myself because I turned to drugs every time my father struck out. I came back from that person I was. That's how I know you will too.”
I gaze back at him, appreciating him sharing his story with me. I can't believe he went through so much.
The relationship with his father is truly ugly to say the least. My story is different, but just as ugly.
Somehow, I feel the strength I needed to share it.
“His name is Sasha,” I start. “My ex fiancé, that's his name. Sasha Konstantin.” I clear my throat and take in a slow breath to calm my mind. “He's the reason I needed a second chance. He stopped me from dancing when he changed. He used to beat me. He used to beat me all the time.”
The words catch in my throat again, tangling with the fear. That awful fear and terror of wondering if this was gonna be, if those moments were gonna be my last on earth.
Jericho takes my hand into his and I get that warmth of reassurance again allowing me to reveal the weakest moments of my life. So I do. I find myself telling him everything and I round up to the big secret. That I am the reason Sasha is behind bars for the next eight years.
“The police came to me. They'd been watching me for months as they gathered intel on Sasha. They assured me I'd be safe if I helped them. They didn't have enough on him to take him down. I gave them what they needed and they did a good job of making it look like they stumbled on it themselves.”
Jericho's gives my hand a gentle squeeze but I can see unmistakable worry in his eyes. “Don't worry about him,” he says, brushing a wayward strand of hair away from my face.
“I do worry, Jericho. Nothing is ever certain when you deal with men like him. I'm scared he'll find out it was me. People die for less.”
“I won't let anything happen to you, mermaid. You're with me now.” He gives me a gentle smile.
“You mean for the next year. After that—”
In standard Jericho fashion, he cuts me off with a kiss. This one is gentle and tender. Softer than the others we've shared. It holds the promise of love and safety. The sort you want to wrap yourself in forever.
He pulls out of the kiss and catches my face. “I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.” He lifts my hand with a ring on it and kisses over my knuckles. “You're my wife, River. You're my wife.”
Those words open my heart, unlocking something that I can't quite describe, then I do everything I said I wasn't going to do and I fall for him all over again.
Falling into all his promises, his words, and him
