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Lifting her head, she peers up at me, her green eyes shimmering with tears. "I’m sorry, Drew. I knew he was a terrible human and that he hurt you. I saw the marks on your skin and wanted to ask you about them. I tried, but I was afraid you would push me away, and you did. That night you came to my dorm in the tux. He hurt you that night, didn’t he?”
All I can do is nod, emotion clogging my throat and making it difficult to speak. Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back. The thought of crying over this shit makes me sick to my stomach. Especially in front of her.
“I’m so damn sorry, Drew. I’m sorry no one was there to help. No one stopped those things from happening to you, and I’m sorry that he’s using your mother against you. Using her deteriorating health against you. Why? Why would he do that?”
I shake my head because I don’t have an answer. “I don’t know. I’ve spent a long fucking time wondering what it was about me that made him hate me so much. I did everything I could to please him. Everything.” I growl bitterly. “His hate shaped me into the person I am today. I took that pain and anger and hurt others because I could. I was a fucking bully, and no better than my father. When you told me that day that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it wasn’t a lie. I’m not better than him. I’m the same and I fucking hate it.”
She moves her hands and cups me by the cheeks, forcing me to look into her eyes.
“Stop. Don’t say that. You’re better than him, Drew. You’re a thousand times better than him because where your father cares for no one but himself, you care about others. You care about your mother, your friends, and me.”
She has no fucking clue how much she means to me. I’d lie, cheat, and steal for her. I’d kill anyone who tries to hurt her. My beginning and end are all her. As she stares at me, I consider telling her the truth about my father, my mother, all of it, and I will, but without all the answers and understanding how it all came to be, I can’t. Not yet.
"Maybe you don’t think so, but I do. I know I don’t deserve you, not even a little bit. But that’s the thing. I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck if I deserve you because I’m far too selfish to let you go. That day in the library, when you stood up to me, you didn’t cower in fear or melt beneath me. You were unlike anyone I’d ever met, and when I looked at you, it felt like you were looking at me, seeing the real me, and no one had ever done that before. It both terrified and intrigued me. I was scared you would be able to see parts of me I hadn’t shown anyone before. I wanted to control you, to bend you to my will. The darkest parts of me clung to the lightest parts of you, and for the first time in forever I felt in control of at least one thing in my life.”
She releases my cheeks and shifts her arms under mine, squeezing me as tightly as she can, pressing her cheek over my heavy beating heart. “I don’t know what to say.”
The pressure on my chest is lighter, and when I suck a breath into my lungs the weight of my past no longer presses too tightly. "You don’t have to say anything, Bel. I just wanted you to know, and my only hope is that by telling you, maybe you’ll understand why I did what I did and might be able to forgive me for it.”
Strands of blond hair stick to her cheek as she pulls away, her eyes rimmed red as they peer up at me. Her pink lips press into a thin line. “I want to forgive you, Drew, and I’m trying. Every day that passes, it becomes easier to wrap my head around. It kills me to be away from you, and my heart begs me to give in and forgive you because I miss you. I can’t even go to the library without thinking about you. It’s no longer the same.”
“I’m sorry.” I stroke her back gently. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“I know you’re sorry. I feel it in my bones, and in so many ways you’re already forgiven. I’m just afraid. I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me again, even if accidentally in an attempt to subdue your father, and I don’t think I could survive losing you a second time. Your dad still has power and control over you, and there’s no saying he won’t try to use me again, that he won’t make you do something to hurt me simply because he can. I need something concrete that proves your father no longer has a hold on you. That he won’t be able to sway you into doing his dirty work. I forgive you, Drew, but I need to make sure your father can’t hurt either of us again. Only then can we really let this go completely.”
Fuck. She’s right.
With my father still in the picture and a part of my life, Bel isn’t safe, and she won’t ever be till I get rid of him. There isn’t a damn thing I can do to fix this right now, and it fucking sucks.
“I understand,” I murmur instead of doing what I really want to do, which is lay her back on the bed, strip her out of this dress, and fuck her into submission until she screams my name and admits how much she wants me. But fucking her won’t change anything. It won’t make her forgive me any faster. "I want to stay, and fuck you until you promise to forgive me but I should go before your brother comes snooping around. I don’t think he would appreciate catching us naked again."
She chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t think he would like that very much.”
“Me either.” I press a kiss to her forehead, and gently lift her off my lap, placing her back on the bed. What she needs is time, and even if it’s not what I want to give her, I don’t have an option. I won't wait forever. She'll be mine regardless. It’ll just make all of this easier if I have her forgiveness.
Shoving off the bed, I smooth my hands down the front of my pants and give her one last look, my heart squeezing in my chest. I turn on my heels and walk out of the room, my insides twisting painfully, my heart urging me to stay with her. The person I’d rip my still-beating heart out of my chest for. I don’t. I continue walking, heading back to The Mill, hoping to be greeted by a quiet house. The only way to get Bel back is to get rid of my father, and I’ll do anything to make that happen.
A hand drags me out of bed, ripping me from sleep, and my eyes pop open, my fists clenched and swinging. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and I peer up at the light shining in my eyes. It takes me a second to realize where I am.
One of my father's goons stands above me, and my gaze swings to the door where I find another standing. "Get up and get dressed. Your father wants to see you."
I shove off the floor and scramble onto my feet. "Fuck you, asshole. He can call me like a normal fucking human if he wants to talk." I say the words as I move on autopilot, walking straight to my dresser to get clothes. I know firsthand what will happen if I don’t obey, and it’ll be ten times worse if I don’t show up.
It takes me a minute to find clothes, but when I do, I shove my legs into a pair of sweats and grab a sweatshirt. My father’s two goons watch me with impatience as I slip my feet into my tennis shoes. One walks in front of me, while another follows me as they lead me to the waiting car. I climb into the back seat, and they slam the door closed, locking me inside. My gaze moves to the illuminated screen up front, and I notice the time.
Three fucking a.m. Are you kidding me? I don’t know why I’m not surprised. I guess I’d be more shocked if he didn’t make a surprise visit or at least send his goons after me. My stomach is a ball of anxiety that grows worse and worse with each mile the car drives.
Ten minutes later, we arrive at the house, and I’m tempted to stay in the car hiding, but there’s no way my father wouldn’t have one of his asshole guards pull me out of the vehicle by my hair. So I begrudgingly leave the protection of the car and walk up the steps and into the house. The house is quiet, too quiet. Fuck me, this isn’t going to be good.
I drag my feet the entire way to his office, one guard in front of me and another behind me, making sure I shuffle along like a good little boy. When we reach the double doors that lead into his office, I exhale. The guard shoves the doors open and then moves to the side, each taking their spots on opposite sides of the doorway. I suck a shuddering breath into my lungs and enter his office slowly. I barely have time to glance toward the desk when something heavy comes flying my way. Pain rips through my temple, and it hurts enough to bring me to my knees.
Fucking prick.
Blood. It trails down my temple and over my cheek. My stomach churns, and I lift a hand to the spot to make certain it’s blood and not just my imagination. When I pull my fingers away, they’re slick and stained red.
I clench my teeth and scramble to get off the floor. "What the hell?"
Unfortunately, my father is already there, charging across the room, leering in my face. "You ruined it," he spits.
