He was happy with her response because it gave him a glint of hope that she wasn’t completely opposed to their marital status
Her smile widened. “And you’re right; my husband is an asshole.”
“He’s also stubborn.” He gave her a sly smile.
“Maybe we should get a divorce.”
He cocked his head. “Do you want that?”
She squeezed his hand. “What I want to do is not talk about it right now. Besides, there are other things that need to be said. I want to tell you how counseling is going.”
His eyebrows rose. “Yeah?” She told him she was going to therapy but he never pressed for details.
“Yeah.” She smiled. “It’s been helpful. We’ve talked about what happened with Blake, and a lot of other things I was holding on to.”
She turned toward him and moved a little closer. “After our first conversation I decided. Before then I never felt I had anything to lose and every time we talked after I felt like I did.” Her expression was full of sincerity. “I’m sorry I was so stubborn. There were reasons…”
She stopped talking and tried to compose herself. Her voice waivered and he knew it took a lot for her to open herself up to him. Her mouth was dry, she looked down at her lap, and she wrung her hands. He said nothing as she stood and went into the kitchen. He could see that she was making drinks and she returned with two glasses in her hands. Handing him one, she sat beside him again. His arm rested on the back of the sofa and changed the subject.
“Did you have a good time today?”
“It was better once you came back.”
“Paige…” He raised her chin with the tips of his fingers. Despite her best attempt at showing him she was in control, she was hesitant.
“Look at me.” The soft command had an immediate response. She looked into his eyes. “I want to cut through the bullshit. I know you could tell when we talked on the phone that I missed you.”
The ice made a tinkling sound when she sat it down on the table and her hands shook. She eyed him cautiously and after a moment got a very determined look.
“Okay. Let’s cut through the bullshit.” Her chin rose defiantly. “I’m not going to play manipulative games with you and I’m not one of those women who’s clingy, but these past few months have proven to me that I don’t like being without you. I’ve lived behind smoke and mirrors for most of my life and only took what I felt I deserved, not always what I wanted. I don’t want to put more into this until you understand what I want, and I’m clear how you feel about it—about me. I’ve been learning a lot in counseling and one thing I learned was that I’m not sorry for what happened in Vegas.”
He raised his brow.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with you or Blake. It has to do with me. If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have gone to get help. There’s a whole lot more about me that you need to know before we decide where we go from here and, after you know it, you might go running out the door. But if you don’t, I want you to know that I was never happier than when we started talking again, and maybe it was good that it worked out that way because I got to know you at the same time I was getting to know myself. When I first came home I missed you. Missing you spooked me—you spooked me. I wasn’t sure if I liked feeling the way I did about you. I liked how you made me happy. Then that happened with Blake. You came to the rescue and I loved it and resented it. I didn’t want to need to be rescued and I sure as hell didn’t want to need you. I’m going full disclosure here. I didn’t know how to react when you saw me at my worst- pulling my hair out. You didn’t freak out, but I did. I don’t like it when I get that way. I hate it but I own it. Everything that I’m ashamed of, you saw. I was having a pity party in my private hell and you walked in on it. I’ve dealt with this in my own way for a long time. Alone. Having you in the crazy part of my life scared me. I knew it would change how you felt about me. You made me feel like I’ve never felt before. Loved and desired. I was terrified of how you’d treat me once you saw how imperfect I really was. After I went to your hotel, I told myself that I should never have been so stupid; that being with you wasn’t an option.” She took a breath. Tears welled in her eyes.
Her honesty was so raw that it hurt his chest. It took balls to admit all that and he felt the courage behind it.
“When I went to your hotel room to apologize, and you were so cold, I was smacked in the face with reality. I’ve never had a serious relationship, Fal, and having one with you was off the table. The best I could hope for was to salvage our friendship. Right now I’m scared shitless, but I want to move forward with my life, not live in the past.”
He didn’t know how in the hell they got here. Not long ago he was dead set against being with one woman, but after nearly a month of them having a good time together and months really getting to know her, he couldn’t think of being with anyone else.
Maybe it was another one of those signs.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. His eyes locked with hers.
“I missed you too.”
Her eyes widened and shined with tears. He held her close.
“Everyone has battle scars, Paige, because no one’s getting out of here without a scratch. If you don’t believe anything else, I want you to believe this—nothing I saw that night made me think less of you. The shit I saw you dealing with, it didn’t scare me away, it made me want to help.”
She looked down into her lap and he could tell she struggled to believe him.
“When we first met, I thought you were this sweet, fragile girl. It didn’t take me long to see that you’re tougher than most people think. I don’t want to fix you. I know you don’t need my help but I want to be there if you do. I’ve seen guys lose limbs and deal with PTSD. They have to overcome some pretty bad shit. But there’s a reason why they can deal with it better once they’re home. It’s because they’re with people who love them.” He pulled her chin up to force her to look at him. “Let me be there for you.”
Her attempt to show him how strong she was faltered as her voice shook. “The baggage I’ve got… I’m afraid it will scare you away.”
A deep, rumbling laugh rushed out of him. “I’m touched by your concern for me Beautiful, but I don’t scare that easily.”
She smiled and it fractured his heart. For months the image of her had only danced in his memory. He lowered his head and kissed her. Her mouth was as sweet as he remembered. Though stunned and momentarily stiff, she quickly became more than receptive. Paige was a long drink for his thirsty soul and he greedily took as much as she gave. Though he thought their connection might be fragile once they were together, when she pulled back her eyes were hopeful. He knew he could lose himself in them and cascade into the depth of her soul. But he couldn’t pursue the type of relationship he wanted until he was certain she felt the same way. There was only one way to find out how much she trusted him. It was time for full disclosure.
“Tell me what happened.”
Encouraged by the tenderness reflected in his tone, she nodded. Other than her father and brother, Falcon was the first man she trusted. The person she didn’t trust was herself. Memories of horrified and disgusted faces assaulted her so she didn’t look at him. It was easier to stare into the empty room. Bracing herself, she took a deep breath and leaned against his side and he put his arm around her. He saw the inner struggle and pulled her a little closer. A protective feeling engulfed him as she sank against his ribs to reveal the darkness that she rarely shared.
“I was a little girl when it happened. Just a baby, really. But not so young that I would forget.” She looked up at him with a faltering smile. “Children are naturally brave and I was a child who wasn’t afraid of anything. You’d have to have been hurt to understand pain. I’d never been hurt, except for maybe a scraped knee or a needle at the doctor’s office. The little ones that I’d experienced my mom kissed away. I’m the youngest in the family. Everyone always looked out for me. If a
scary show came on television, my brother would hold my hand and both of us would put our hands up to hide our faces but peek through our fingers. If I had a nightmare, my daddy sat on the floor beside my bed until I fell back asleep”.
“It was hot the day of the accident. Weather in Baltimore is very unpredictable and my mom made us stay inside because they were calling for a bad storm. My brother, Ricky, and I were running around in the house playing tag. Mom was making dinner in the kitchen.”
“We were acting as crazy as kids can get, I guess. I hid under the dining room table. It was the best hiding place in the whole house—at least for someone who was as little as I was. Ricky couldn’t find me because I squeezed into a tiny spot between the chair legs that wasn’t visible unless you got down on the floor. When he leaned up against the table I saw his feet. I was so excited! I couldn’t wait to tag him because he always got me first. I was so nervous that any minute he would turn around and scare me so I reached out and tickled his ankle. He jumped like a spider was crawling on him and, while he swatted at the invisible bug, I took off. I was frantically looking for another hiding place when I heard my mom yell that we had better knock it off. I was afraid he’d catch me. I was winning so I didn’t pay attention to what I was doing. I just wanted to go in places where he couldn’t reach me. I ran into the kitchen. I discovered that day that tables were my perfect place to hide, so I hid under the one in the kitchen. My mom wasn’t in there because she was trying to corral us, but I wasn’t coming out of there until someone made me. Mom had dinner cooking on the countertop in one of those electric skillets. I could hear her in the other room yelling at my brother. I giggled and stayed where I was. She was still giving him a talking to when the storm picked up. Mom and Ricky were in the other room when a crack of lightning and thunder split the sky. It was a very close strike; it shook and lit up our whole house.”
Paige stiffened as her voice waivered. “Our kitchen window was big. It was what they call a picture window. When the lightning struck, I was blinded—and I was terrified.”
“I can see why,” Falcon assured her. “Something like that would have been enough to scare any little kid.”
She turned and looked up at him with fresh pain in her eyes. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention, I just wanted my momma.”
He brushed a tear from her cheek and his chest tightened. He couldn’t imagine how scared she’d been back then, but it killed him to see the anguish she was going through now, just to tell him.
“I busted out from under that table so fast that I knocked the chair over! I was so unnerved that I fell into the cabinets. Unfortunately, I grabbed at whatever I could to break my fall. It just happened to be the cord to the skillet.”
Falcon’s jaw tightened as her voice quivered. He saw where this horrific story was going. The mental images made him want to take her in his arms and erase all the bad thoughts. He swallowed the lump in his throat and held her tight.
“I pulled it over on me,” she choked out a whisper. “The hot grease… it hit me… it spilled everywhere.”
He closed his eyes as he held her. Her voice was so strained that he drowned in the emotion. She was shaking and it took a few minutes for her to continue and, even then the recollection frayed her so badly she was hoarse.
“After that, memories are sketchy. I remember it hurt, but I don’t remember the pain. I remember the ambulance, but I drifted in and out of consciousness. My family refused to leave me by myself, even if it killed them to see how much pain I was in. Every time I woke up either my mom or dad was with me. They even brought my big brother up to see me to give me a feeling of normalcy because Ricky was my best friend and obnoxious defender. He never antagonized me after that and was always nice and sweet. He didn’t tease me like he did when we played at home, but he couldn’t cuddle me either. I cried a lot. It hurt so badly when they changed the bandages. At the time, I didn’t understand why my momma and daddy were letting them hurt me, but the pain lessened in time. Over the next several years I had many surgeries to repair the damage, but I still had a lot of scarred skin.”
She paused and sucked in a few breaths. He grabbed a Kleenex and placed it in her hand. She released a sob while he patiently waited. He picked her up like she weighed nothing and put her on his lap. When she didn’t object and he leaned her head against his shoulder. The moment that she was safe in his arms she released a flood of emotion and cried bitter tears for the child that she was and the woman who had, just recently, put all of these remembered pieces together. Her nose was stuffy and her voice was ragged. Falcon thought that he’d heard the rest of the story, but he was wrong. She held the tissue in a tight fist as she continued.
“I was in the third grade when the teasing began. I had to keep my skin covered for several months after each surgery. There was a group of little girls…they called me mummy and some other things. I got cold easily during that time and my grandmother crocheted a little wrap that went around my shoulders and buttoned. That earned me another list of creative names from the little darlings. I was the same girl on the inside; I just looked different on the outside. I guess the kids didn’t understand the extent of what happened any more than I did, but they were cruel instead of nice, and I was a tenderhearted little girl. I couldn’t understand why no one wanted to be my friend. I always tried to be kind to them but it was no use. I snuck toys into my book bag and gave them away just so they would like me. No matter how I tried to get them to accept me they never did. Even when they didn’t call me names, whenever I got near them they acted like I had a disease. I very quickly began to isolate myself.”
She sat up and moved her hair to reveal back of her head. “There’s a spot right here.” She circled an area with her finger and he leaned up to look. “A dollop of grease hit there before it trickled down. It’s a bald spot. The grease killed the follicles. No hair grows there.”
She tugged the hair in the designated area. “This is a hairpiece. When we were little, Aria told me that when she grew up she was going to fix my hair so pretty that nobody would ever make fun of me again. She went to a vocational high school and got a cosmetology license. Once she graduated, she researched and learned how to apply hairpieces with skin safe adhesives. I can usually wear one for a week or two before I have to change it.”
Falcon was puzzled. “I thought Aria ran a home improvement business?”
“She does, but she did hair before that. She taught me how to cover the bald spot. Before that, I tried to cover it over with my other hair. The spot was sore for the longest time and I would massage it. It became a nervous habit, like a tic. When I was upset I would rub it and rub it. It felt good and, so I’ve been told, it was a form of self-soothing. I managed with it just fine until one day in high school.”
“As we grew up, the little darlings became teenage demonlings. They knew about my scars, but they didn’t know about my hair. They still teased me, but not as much. At least, not until one day after gym class. That day the girls were especially mean. I don’t know what set them off but they were calling me names all through gym class. Afterward, I tried to stay under their radar. I thought I had gone into the shower unnoticed, but they saw me. They waited for me. I was wrapped in a towel in the middle of an arc of girls. My hair was soaking wet and plastered to my shoulders. When I tried to go past them they all saw the bald spot. That was when they called me some new names Baldie…Moonhead…Spot.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat as she leaned, exhausted, against him.
“Anyway, I couldn’t wait to get home that day. I ran into my room and slammed the door. I rocked back and forth and rubbed the spot. I hated it and before I knew it I had pulled out a few hairs—and it felt good. I only did a little bit that day but every time after that there was a little more. The more I pulled the better I felt. It was my release.”
“Jesus, Paige. What did your parents say?” His heart broke with every new revelation.
She shrugged. “What could
they say? They didn’t know. I was pulling for six months or so when my mom walked in and caught me. I think she blamed herself. It was terrible. She cried and so did I. I was so ashamed. I felt like I had let them down because they tried so hard to help me. She made an appointment with a dermatologist and both she and my dad went to it with me. I was diagnosed with Trichotillomania and referred to a therapist. Both of them said that stress was a trigger. My parents thought it was all a delayed reaction from the accident because I kept quiet about what the girls did to me. I was put on an anti-depressant.”
Her eyes were dark, rimmed from the runny, tear-moistened mascara. “I flushed the pills down the toilet because I didn’t like the way they made me feel- weird. I never told my parents.”
He was crushed by her pain and sliced by her anguish. He handed her a few more tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She gave him a weak smile.
“I had a few more plastic surgeries when I was in college. The doctors tell me that this is the best I can hope for. Aria, Liz, and now you, are the only people that know about the accident. I haven’t told anyone else. And as far as the pulling? Other than my parents, you are the only one who knows.”
She moved down and laid her head in his lap. She was weak from the emotional burden she’d carried alone for so long. Silently, he alternated stroking her back and hair. He was so heartbroken for, and proud of, her. She hid all of this so well that no one—NO ONE—would suspect what she’d gone through. She disguised it perfectly. Too perfectly.
He digested her confession as she lay quietly. Still living in a hell created by the taunts of careless children, her perception of herself was damaged. She didn’t see herself as the beautiful woman that others did, including him and he wanted to unveil her eyes. Her trust in him was evident. It would have been impossible for her to tell him otherwise. The question was how could he get through to her that there was more to her than her appearance, and have her believe it? He knew so much more about her now, and what she revealed was huge, but he had to get through to her that, while her story was important, there were other things he wanted to know. This accident and her disorder were not the things that defined her. There was so much more that made her the woman he desired. Things like her favorite color and her favorite flowers; he wanted to know what made her laugh. After learning all of this, he knew what made her cry. As in Las Vegas, he felt that when he was with her there was nowhere else he’d rather be. As she poured out her heart he felt a shift in their relationship, a deepening where a quarry of hurt could be healed with love. Even sitting quietly with her there was no denying their connection. He didn’t need words.
Same/Difference (The Depth of Emotion #4) Page 15
