Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“I’m taking you home,” he says, a decree rather than a question.
“I don’t want to run away from them,” I protest, even though I’m longing to do just that.
“You’re not,” he replies firmly. “I’m taking you away from them. Because if we have to breathe the same air as those people for another minute, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. I’d rather not make a scene at my colleague’s wedding.”
“Oh,” I breathe.
His fierce mood is shocking but deeply gratifying.
My steps quicken as we exit the garden. I’m eager to get away from this place. It’s everything that I want to leave firmly in my past.
I’m ready for my future, and I want to share it with Dane.
27
ABIGAIL
We’re safely back in Dane’s bed when I start shaking. It’s a small tremor in my hands at first, but then cold sweeps through my entire body. I wrap my arms tightly around my aching chest as a violent shiver wracks my frame.
“I’m sorry,” I say through chattering teeth. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
He tucks us both under the duvet and pulls me close. His square jaw is anvil-hard, but his hands are gentle as he rubs at my goosebumps.
“You’re in shock,” he says in his calm, bedside manner voice.
“What? No, I’m fine.”
I shudder, and he cups my chilled cheek. His eyes search mine for the lie, but I’m being honest. I don’t understand what’s happening to my body.
He strokes his long fingers through my hair in a soothing motion. “You clearly have trauma when it comes to your family. Seeing them put you in survival mode. But you’re safe now, and your brain is struggling to process that.”
“I didn’t realize you’re a psychologist.” It’s a weak attempt at a joke, and he doesn’t laugh.
“What did they do to you, Abigail?”
I press my lips together, holding in the awful truths that want to spill out of me. My instinct is to bottle everything up, to force it down and ignore it until the ache in my chest subsides.
But I’m with Dane now. I can lean on him. He’ll catch me if I fall.
“It’s…a lot,” I say softly. “I don’t know if I’m ready to think about all of it.”
“That’s all right,” he encourages. “Tell me what you can. I’m right here. You’re safe.”
Hope floods my chest in a forceful, hot wave that makes my heart strain against my ribs. I want to share this burden with him, and I know he’s strong enough to help me bear it.
I take a deep breath and begin my confession. “I haven’t spoken to my family since I dropped out of college two years ago.”
He nods. “You said you didn’t need a degree to prove you’re an artist. But that’s not the real reason you quit school.”
“No,” I admit on a tremulous whisper. “I failed out. I stopped going to class. My parents were furious. My dad was so disappointed in me.”
Shame twists my gut on the admission. As much as I want to leave my toxic family in my past, some foolish, childish part of me still craves their approval and affection.
“Why did you stop going to class?” Dane presses gently. “I know you’re intelligent, so it has nothing to do with the difficulty of your course.”
The compliment bolsters me. My dashing prince values me for who I am. My dark god wants all of me, and he deems me worthy of him.
“I was depressed,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t say anything. He simply holds me and waits until I’m ready to continue.
I sort through my muddled thoughts and decide to start at the beginning. For so long, I’ve been terrified that Dane will learn my shameful secrets, but we’re beyond that now. I’m no longer afraid that he’ll turn from me in disgust if he knows the truth.
“I was raped on the night of my debutante ball.”
His body hardens to granite, and he’s so still that I don’t think he’s even breathing. After a tense moment, he resumes stroking my hair, but his muscles ripple and flex around me with unspent aggression. I know it’s on my behalf, and I don’t feel so much as a flicker of fear.
I tuck my face into his chest and breathe in his spicy cedar scent, allowing it to ground me while I talk about the horrors I endured.
“It was my date, Tom. He was two years above me at college, and I didn’t know him well. My mom asked his mom if he would be my escort for the night, and he agreed. I thought he resented me. He seemed so angry all night.”
I’m detached from reality, floating in a space that’s neither past nor present. There’s only Dane and my voice, recalling what happened to me in a flat, distant tone.
“Tom got drunk at the open bar, and towards the end of the night, he said I owed him. He was smoking in the garden behind the Azalea Club. The ball was still going on inside, so everyone was busy drinking and dancing.”