She lifts her head slightly, her heart shaped-mouth forming a perfect O but just as quickly, she shakes her head. “You don’t have to tell me, Zak. I’m not trying to pry by asking—“
“I know, honey, it’s ok.”
“Really.” Theo’s fingers curl against my chest. “I know those ones are... different. Just because we love each other, know each other in the biblical sense, doesn’t mean you have to tell me everything. It doesn’t change anything—not knowing that is—it changes nothing either way and I don’t want you to do anything because you think you have to.”
I cup the back of her head and bring her down to my lips, kiss her because that is something Ihaveto do,needto do. “It’s ok, Blondie. I know I don’t have to tell you, but I want to.” Another kiss. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to tell.”
Theo doesn’t speak, just gives me another kiss and a smile I feel like a punch to the gut, then nods.
My heart is hammering in my chest, but I don’t let it stop me from baring my blackened soul to this woman, the soul she breathed life back into from the first time I saw her.
“It’s been about twenty-five years since it happened. Sometimes it feels like ancient history buried so deep it’s like it happened to someone else and other times...” I start playing with her hair again. “Other times it feels like I’m still that broken and bleeding little boy hoping his mama comes to save him.”
I wait for her reaction, for some flicker of pity or something else in her eyes but all I see, fuck, all I see is love. Pure. Unfiltered. Unconditional. True fucking love.
“We were poor, lived in a rough part of town. My mom worked eighteen hour shifts at a diner, janitorial stuff at my school at night. She met my dad when she was a senior in high school, got pregnant with me before she turned eighteen, so she dropped out and moved in with him. He was a few years older, had a shitty apartment and an even shittier job, but took on a second to try to support us. We had nothing but each other and for a while, that was enough.” I take a deep, slow breath, watching the white gold as it slips through my fingers. “Mama started working as soon as she put me in preschool and while that should have made things better, it seemed to make things worse. My dad started drinking, the pressure of working two jobs, trying to make ends meet and having an instant family wasn’t really in his plans, so he tried to cope. Unfortunately, he couldn’t handle his booze and within a few months he lost both jobs as well as the desire to be anything other than a bastard.
“He was drunk twenty-four seven, so my mom took on a second, sometimes third job just to make sure we had a roof over our heads, but the fact that she was gone all the time made my dad paranoid. He’d drink himself into a stupor and convince himself Mama was stepping out on him, that the money was from selling herself or some shit. It started slow but he began beating her for it and didn’t care if I saw it happen.”
Theo wiggles impossibly closer to me, rests her forehead in the hollow of my throat, and wraps me up in her beautiful body without one ounce of pity, just straight up love.
“Shortly after that, he started to believe I wasn’t really his son. Dad questioned her all the time, accused her of cheating, called her a whore every chance he got. I’d come home from school and walk on eggshells, pray he was too drunk to notice me, pray he’d just pass out and leave me and Mama alone, but more often than not he’d be so fucking worked up over whatever shit had gotten into his head that the minute I hit the door he’d start screaming, then...” I swallow hard and stare up at the ceiling. “Then he’d lock me in the crawl space for hours, leave me until Mama came home.”
Theo kisses my chin, my jaw, my neck, and despite reliving shit that plagues my nightmares, I smile a little.
“She was my hero, my mama. She was so fucking pretty with wild auburn hair and the greenest fucking eyes. Tall, slender, and she gave the best fucking hugs. We both knew it was useless to fight him on anything, only made things a hundred times worse, so when Dad would finally pass out, Mom started putting things in the crawl space for me to try to make it bearable when it happened. Coloring books and crayons, an old blanket, a pack of saltines and thermos of water. It sounds fucked up, I know, but it was the only way to deal with it because whenever Mama tried to get us out, tried to fight him on how he treated us, my dad beat her until she was unconscious and eventually, he started beating me too.”
“Zak...” Theo sniffles as she presses a kiss to my throat. “You don’t have to...”
“It’s ok, honey.” And I mean that. There’s always going to be pain when I think about my childhood, but for the first time since I can remember it doesn’t reallyhurt. “We had years like that, of Dad beating us, but Mama tried to make it good. If there was any extra money, anything my dad didn’t get his hands on, she’d try to treat me in some way, do something to make me feel special instead of like a scared piece of shit, and the day my mom came home with a cast iron dump truck she picked up at a yard sale was the best fucking day of my short little life.”
I sigh and start drawing lazy circles against Theo’s silky skin. “Then one day, Dad staggered out of his bedroom, tripped on my dump truck and everything changed.”
With a grunt, I shift around then grab Theo’s hand, throw my leg over hers and press her delicate fingers against the scar. “He broke my knee, fractured the bones just above and just below it.” I pull her hand up my side and rest it on my shoulder. “Dislocated this, tore all the ligaments, and broke my collarbone. Had to have multiple surgeries over the years on both because I was only ten when it happened and nothing would grow right without them. It’s why I still have a bit of a limp and hurt like a motherfucker when it rains.”
Theo smiles through the tears forming along her lash line, traces the various dots and lines, but still doesn’t speak. She’s giving me the opportunity to say what I need to without interruption while still being supportive and present.
I really fucking love this woman.
Without any coaxing, her hand moves to my face, pushes back the mess of hair then slowly, cautiously,lovinglytouches the lowest point of the scar by the corner of my mouth, follows the way it reaches toward my ear, my temple, the marbled flesh pulled taught all through my eye socket until it slices my eyebrow in half.
“He hit me in the face with my dump truck. Broke my orbital bone, most of the left side of my face and did enough damage to blind me instantly.” Theo’s eyes flick to mine as she continues touching the part of me I don’t even like for people to see, a question in her gaze.
“Mama came home from work while I was knocked out and started fighting with my dad. Not just getting beat, but actually fighting back. When I woke up, he was trying to choke her, so I hit him with my truck, then ran and hid when Mama told me to. He came for me though, and a few minutes later, Mama came for him.” One more deep breath. “He shot her twice after she hit him repeatedly with the cast iron truck. Dad died as soon as he pulled the trigger a second time; a bar fight earlier in the day left him with a small brain bleed and the truck finished the job. Mama managed to crawl to the closet I was hiding in and bled out inches from the door. I stayed put just like she said, and it was a few days before someone found us.”
We sit quietly for a while, Theo gently stroking my face, kissing me sweetly in between her silent tears. I don’t have any left, not after crying for my mama for days, not after praying to a god I wasn’t sure existed while I bounced around foster homes and eventually aged out of the system without ever having the love of another mother. I hardened my heart after that, didn’t let anyone in until the club, and even then, it was only so far. Jackal doesn’t even know the full story. No one knows except Blondie and now that she does, I find myself wishing I could shed a few tears for everything I lost then found again in her.
“I love you, Zak.” She sighs and wraps herself around me once again. “I’m glad you told me, and I want you to know I don’t pity you. I’m heartbroken for that little boy you once were, but I don’t pity you because of the amazing man you became in spite of your circumstances. You are my hero for so many reasons and I feel blessed to be able to love you now and for always.”
My chest tightens, squeezes so hard I can barely breathe but it’s not painful. No, it doesn’t hurt because for the first time since I was that broken little boy, I can actually feel those pieces start to stitch themselves back together.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
THEO
I smileas strong hands slide over my hips, giving them a squeeze before deft fingers dip under the sides of my panties.
“Blondie...” Zak purrs against my neck and kisses just under my ear. “Theo...”
