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“I’m not used to talking about sex,” I mutter. I’ve never been with someone who wanted to talk about it, and didn’t even know people did that kind of thing.
“I see that.” He lifts my chin up so he can place a soft kiss against my mouth. He pulls out of me slowly then gets off the bed and picks me up, carrying me to the bathroom before cleaning us both up. When he leads me back to bed, he maneuvers us so we are face-to-face, wrapping his arm over my waist and tossing his leg over both of mine.
“How many relationships have you been in?” he asks as soon as I’m settled in against him.
“Not many, and none of them lasted long,” I admit, looking at his throat.
Taking his arm from my waist, he captures my chin and tips my head back. “Why’s that?”
“Most of the time, it had to do with me telling them about my parents, or my parents showing up unannounced and making a scene.” I drag in a shaky breath. “None of them stuck around long after that.”
“Idiots,” he says harshly, and I close my eyes.
“You’ve only met my dad once, and when you did, he was on his best behavior. You’ve never met my mom; she’s the worst.”
“I know all about your dad, baby, and your mom. There is no way in hell I’d let them scare me off.”
“Yeah, but you’re a cop. You’re used to dealing with people like them, while most people aren’t.”
“You are not your parents, Hadley. Your parents do not define the person you are today. I know people who have grown up in shitty situations and let that lead them down shitty paths. That is not you, baby.”
“Have you been talking to Brie about this?” I ask.
His chin jerks back and his face gets kind of scary. “No. Anything I want to learn about you, I want to learn from you, not from someone else.”
“I just said that, because you sound a lot like she does when she’s trying to convince me that I shouldn’t be ashamed of how I grew up and who my parents are.”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed. You should be proud that despite them you have made a life for yourself.”
“That’s what Dr. Sprat says too.”
“Maybe you should listen to us instead of the crap those two idiots filled your head with,” he says as his eyes go to my forehead, where I had the stitches taken out today. “I don’t think you’ll have a scar.”
“Me neither. Even if I do, I think it will be small.”
As he studies my forehead, sliding his thumb over the mark, I watch the intense look on his face, wondering what it’s about. I learn as soon as he speaks again. “I wish the scars from your past could just as easily vanish.”
“Cobi.” His name is filled with pain as it escapes my throat.
“I won’t let them hurt you anymore, Hadley. I need you to really understand that.” He looks down into my eyes. “I don’t know the relationship you have with them. I don’t know how you feel about them, but I won’t let you near them or them near you if I think they could cause you more pain.”
My jaw aches as my teeth clench together and tears I can’t control start to fill my eyes. I’ve never been a crier, but more and more, it’s getting harder to control the urge to let those tears loose when he’s being sweet and protective. “I don’t talk to them much. They really only contact me when they need something from me.”
“Do you give them money?” he questions, sounding annoyed at the idea.
“I used to.” I drag in a deep breath then let it out while resting my hand against his jaw. “I stopped when it started to become a habit for them to ask me for money every other week, when they knew I got paid. It’s difficult enough to take care of myself most months, and if something happens and I need money, I have no one to ask besides Brie. And she and Kenyon don’t have extra, with them paying for a wedding and saving for a house.”
“Glad you stopped giving in to them.”
“Me too, but it still hasn’t stopped them from asking me, and it didn’t stop my dad from breaking into my house.”
“If I find out—”
“You probably never will,” I cut him off. “He’s stupid, but not that stupid, and even if you did get evidence that he’s the one who broke in, it won’t matter anyway.”
“He’d go to jail, baby.”
“Yeah, he’ll spend a few days in jail then be out and back to his old ways. Jail doesn’t scare him or my mom, and laws don’t either. Both of them have seen the inside of a courtroom more than you probably have. For them, it’s their normal.” I shake my head. “When I tell you my parents are messed up, I mean they are messed up beyond what the normal definition of messed up is.”
