Including my first night in this bed, my first nightfree.
I wondered at first if he was going to rebuild the pillow wall, but then he slid in right behind me, pulling me against his largebody and wrapping his arm around my middle. Feeling his massive frame at my back should have terrified me. Instead, I scooted myself further into his warm embrace, hoping he’d hold me tighter.
Tangaloa settled his head against mine, his chin on my shoulder. “Don’t think I’m not pissed about this,” he said low into my ear. “I just don’t have the energy to show it right now.”
“I know,” I muttered back, the sudden need to cry clogging my throat. “And I understand if you can never forgive me.”
“Shhh…” he encouraged. “Not now. Just let me have this. We can talk when we wake up in a few hours, but for now, just let me hold you.”
I bit my tongue and nodded, not realizing how muchIneeded this until this very moment. A part of me hoped we never woke up.
“I wasfive years old the first time I met Mr. D—I mean, That Bastard. I didn’t know why he was at my house. I wouldn’t have even remembered him, except I spilled my juice. That Bastard pulled my panties down right there in front of my parents and spanked me.” I did not mention that the blows had been hard enough that I could barely sit down for a week afterwards. I did not want him to pity me, only understand my decisions.
We’d slept longer than intended, leading to Samantha’s very first sleepover away from me. Apparently the twins had pet snakes, which fascinated her. I wasn’t thrilled about that, but she was safe, entertained, and well-looked after. I couldn’t argue with that when neither Tangaloa nor I could watch her right now.
Not if either of us hoped to get through this conversation anytime soon.
After running downstairs to get us some food, Tangaloa and I were now sitting cross-legged across from each other on the bed. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the concept ofeatingin bed, but I couldn’t argue with the comfort factor.
Tangaloa paused with his cucumber slice partway to his mouth. He’d grabbed cucumber slices, cream cheese, smoked salmon, and crackers. Even pissed—his word, not mine—he was still looking out for me. That Bastard would never.
“Hewhat? And your parents didn’t stop him?”
I shook my head. “I remember begging him to stop, crying out for my parents, but the more I cried, the harder he struck me. I am not sure what lesson he was trying to instill upon me or my parents that day, and knowing what I know now about how he believed children should be raised, it could have been a number of things.”
Tangaloa scowled. “I already knew I was going to kill your parents one day, but now I’m going to draw it out. Make it extra painful.”
I was pretty sure there was something wrong with me that I didn’t argue with him or plead for my parents’ lives. I already knew that Tangaloa, Aloiki, and the others had murdered That Bastard, but I didn’t know those details. Wasn’t sure I wanted to.
He pointed to my plate. “Eat and talk or eat and then talk, but either way, you’re going to eat that.”
I glanced down at my plate he’d so sweetly prepared for me. Having food made for me by a man was so… Well, it was just another mind-blowing concept that I was still trying to get used to. I wasn’t hungry, per se, too nervous, but I still picked up a slice of smoked salmon smeared with dill cream cheese. Ever since that day at That Bastard’s house when Tangaloa had encouraged me to try anything I wanted from the refrigerator, I hadn’t been able to get enough of the stuff.
“Over the next few years, I saw That Bastard on and off, but I always hid. I didn’t know why he was around so much until later, when I was about fifteen. It was after that day, though, that my lessons started with my own parents. I didn’t go to school. I was barely allowed outside the house. Everything I was taught was about being a proper wife. I had private tutors, so I learned to read, write, and basic math, but everything else was learning what a wife was supposed to know. Sewing, cooking, cleaning, and the like, but also what to eat, how to do my hair, how to dress, proper posture…” I licked my lips. “When I was eight I met a boy. He moved in across the street, and though our houses were quite large, our bedroom windows faced each other. He managed to sneak me a radio—you know, one of those kiddie ones with the antennae?” I asked, even though I was sure he knew what I was talking about. I was just stalling for time.
His expression said he knew what I was doing, but he still nodded before pointing to my plate again.
Oh, right. I had a delaying tactic right there too. I slowly chewed another piece of salmon before I finally worked up the courage to continue. “We talked for months. I confessed everything. How miserable I was, how I was terrified of being punished. My tutors were given permission to spank me too, and when I wasn’t smart enough or fast enough, they used either their hands or a wooden ruler.” I had to take a deep breath before I explained the next part. “He told his parents, and they called the cops. But my dad being my dad was friends with some higher-ups at the police station, and they gave him a head’s up that some officers were on their way to do a wellness check on me with child protective services.” I paused to wipe my eyes. “That Bastard arrived just before they did. He grabbed me by my pigtail and lifted me off the ground. I screamed, kicking and flailing myarms, but I was so small. It was completely useless. He told me that if I did not behave, if I told the police anything, that he would go across the street and snap my friend’s neck. For a nine year old, especially someone as sheltered as me with only one friend, I’m sure you can imagine just how terrifying that threat was.”
Tangaloa reached between us to touch my knee. His hand was so big that his fingers practically covered my upper thigh too. “Car—Shit.Maisy, you don’t need to justify yourself to me. You don’t need to defend the actions of a scared, traumatized little girl.”
I glanced up at him, not having realized I’d been intensely studying my plate for so long. “Maybe I have to justify it to myself,” I confessed. “Maybe I have to remind myself that most children would have done the same as I did and lied to the cops. Otherwise, I have to live with the consequences of my actions. Or inactions,” I corrected.
“What does your therapist say? I assume she knows all about this?”
I winced, but nodded. “Dr. Akamu says it’ll take time to forgive my younger self, and to remember what I do have and not what I could have had.”
“And what do you have?”
I stared into his dark eyes. The bags under them were better, and despite our nap, he still looked like he could use a good night’s sleep. “Samantha,” I said automatically. “And…hopefully you.”
Tangaloa leaned his tall body across the space between us. “You will always have me,” he vowed. “I might be pissed at the secrets you kept. I might even be pissedat you. But you willalwayshave me. I’m not going anywhere, Maisy.”
My ears tingled every time he said my name. I sniffled, trying to keep back my tears at his pledge. “Mahalo,” I told him. It was one of the few Hawaiian words I knew I was pronouncing correctly.
He sat back, which I was both grateful and disappointed at. “The cops and social services left, I assume?” he prompted.
I nodded, looking down again. “That night my things were packed, and despite my protests and the punishment I received, I was forced into That Bastard’s car and driven to his house.”