Victor got angry and threw me into a pane of glass that separated the dining room from the living room.It shattered, slicing into me.I know, even without seeing them, that there are at least a dozen more of these on my back.
Then he’d tossed a towel down onto me and told me to stop the bleeding and to keep my mouth shut.That it was my fault.
No one at the hospital ever suspected a thing.They all truly believed the story that I’d tripped and fallen into the glass.
And why wouldn’t they?
There were no other marks on me.
And Victor was the best actor.
I swallow hard, throat burning as I turn away from the mirror and back toward the shower.Thomas had been two weeks old.They’d blamed my clumsiness on my exhaustion as a new mother.
After all, who would suspect the charming quarterback?
“That smells really good.”Freshly showered, I step into the kitchen.My mood may have been soured by the unwanted memory, but my stomach growls in response to the scents coming out of the kitchen.
Garrison looks up from where he’s standing in the kitchen.“I know I said just tea, but I was hungry.Falling out of a boat will do that to a person.”He flashes me a smile to let me know he’s not the least bit annoyed with our unplanned swim.
“Yeah, I guess it will.”I force a smile and take a seat on one of his barstools to watch him cook what looks like taco meat.
“You feel up for nachos?”
“Always.”
His adorable crooked grin thaws a bit of the ice my memory of Victor placed around me.But when he turns to fully face me, head cocked to the side, I know that once again—he’s seeing too much.
Too much of me.
Of my past.
How am I supposed to keep things hidden if he makes me want to spill every single memory weighing me down?Would he protect my secrets?Would he hold me as I unloaded everything I’ve been carrying for far too long?
“What is it?”he asks.
I could tell him.I know, without a doubt, I can trust him.But I just can’t bear to see him look at me differently.“I’m just tired.”
Garrison nods, but I can see that he doesn’t believe me.It’s written all over his face.“You know you can talk to me, right?”
“I know.”
“Then I’ll take your excuse.”He winks and turns back toward the stove.“You hear any more from Thomas?”
A bit of my resolve dissipates.I want so badly to have someone to talk to, but the last person I confided in—I shake my head.No.I will not go there.“Not since he went to sleep.He’s on cloud nine.So beyond excited about baseball camp.I doubt he’ll want to come home.”
“Nah, he will.He’ll miss you too much.”
More of that ice melts.“Thanks for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.”
Silence wraps around us, both a comfort and a weight I desperately want to shed.When it’s too quiet, the darkness hiding in the recesses of my mind escapes.Little by little, it taunts me.
I clear my throat.“So, why did Sawyer call you Demo earlier?”
Garrison lets out a laugh as he begins shredding cheese.“It was my code name.”
“Code name?”