Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Hello, Rachel.”
Rachel
“Hi.”
Caine was staring at me funny—as if he wasn’t really seeing me, even though he looked straight at my face.
“Caine?
He blinked a few times. “Sorry. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I stepped aside for him to enter, noting that he hadn’t leaned in for a kiss. I tried to brush it off, but it elevated my already jittery feeling to full-blown panic.
Caine came inside, and things became even more awkward—worse than a bad blind date. I was standing in a room where this man had recently cooked breakfast for me, yet he felt like a complete stranger.
“How are you feeling?” I attempted to make some conversation.
“Better. Thank you. I’m sorry for the way I rushed out of your sister’s apartment and left her to make sure you got home.”
“It’s fine. I understand. You weren’t feeling well.”
Caine nodded and dug his hands into his pockets. After another minute of awkward silence, he cleared his throat.
“Listen, Rachel, we need to talk.”
“Okay. Why don’t we sit down? Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He followed me into the living room. I sat on one end of the couch, which left plenty of open space for him to join me. But he chose to sit on the adjacent chair.
Caine looked at his feet, then dragged a hand through his hair. Though he could totally pull off the disheveled look, I got the feeling he’d been doing that a lot the last few days, and it had nothing to do with styling. He blew out a loud breath before starting to speak.
“I can’t start a relationship with lies.”
Oh, God. My little lie about Benny had been niggling in the back of my mind ever since I’d talked to Ava about what was going on with Caine. I felt sick. But I refused to let that horrible man take anything else from me.
“I’m sorry about lying. It’s just…it’s not easy for me to talk about.”
Caine attempted to speak, but I cut him off, going into my usual nervous ramble.
“I said I didn’t have a stepfather because I wish I hadn’t had one. I try to pretend he never existed. He wasn’t a nice guy. He was abusive…to me and my sister once my mother died.”
Caine’s jaw flexed. “He abused you?”
I nodded and looked down. “It wasn’t the same for me and my sister. He…” Even after fifteen years, I could barely say the words. “…he sexually abused my sister. But I was too young.”
“So he didn’t touch you?”
I shook my head. “Not the same way he touched my sister.”
A look of relief crossed Caine’s face. “Thank God.”
“But as long as we’re being honest, I told you another small lie. The scar on my back isn’t from falling out of a tree when I was a kid. It’s from my stepfather. The night before the police removed us, he came home earlier than we’d expected. Riley was packing because we were planning on finally going to get help the next morning. Benny ransacked my room and found the bag I’d packed. He lost his mind and started kicking us with his steel-tip boots. That’s what left the scar on my back.”
I’d been too stubborn for a lot of years to allow myself to cry about everything that happened. But the memories from that night were still vivid when I talked about them. I could see my sister sneaking into my room after Benny had passed out to do wound care on me. My tears felt cool, running down my warm face.
“My sister taped it closed, but it probably needed a dozen stitches.”
Caine came to kneel at my feet. I leaned my head into him, burying my face in his shoulder to hide my emotions.
“I’m so sorry, Rach. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Once the faucet was open, I couldn’t stop the water from coming. Caine holding me made me feel safe for the first time in a long time—safe to cry. And so I did. I cried and I cried, allowing myself to let it out. I didn’t know where it was all coming from, but the cry turned into an ugly sob—one that had me gasping for breath. Caine sat and held me quietly, stroking my hair and saying he was sorry over and over. When I finally calmed down, I sat up to find him with tears welling in his own eyes.
“I’m sorry for falling apart like that. I’ve never told anyone about that night, except the social worker who took us the next day. I’ve never even said my sister was sexually abused out loud.” I looked Caine in the eyes. “That’s why I lied to you and said my mother never remarried. It’s easier to pretend she never did and those years never happened.”
Caine looked so sad. His voice was full of hesitation. “You went to a social worker the next day, after he did that to you?”