“Trying to protect me.”
“From what?” Ana asks.
“Himself. Certain…” She’s weighing how to put it. “Honestly, there’s a lot that’s not my place to say, things about him that are his story to tell, not mine, and I won’t betray his confidence by sharing them. Just say that he felt he needed to protect me from himself by pushing me away, and I didn’t let him.”
My heart squeezes—I get the sense that it’s very unusual for her to not share everything with these two women. And she did this for me. Not knowing I’m here.
“Mike, it’s us. You tell us everything.” Ana sounds almost cajoling. “If he thought to protect you, maybe you should have listened. What was it he was protecting you from, honey?”
“Ana, stop.” Myka sounds annoyed.
“I’m concerned, that’s all. You stop calling, you decided to stay in Las Vegas of all places…and then you startbartendingat anightclub. You’re shacking up with a man you barely know, and then you bring him home with you. He’s huge, he’s violent, and yes, extraordinarily attractive, I must admit. You’re engaging in…in aphysicalrelationship with him not only outside of marriage, but with a man I repeat, you barely know.” Ana pauses, sighs, continues. “I respect your desire to keep his confidence, I really do, but Mom and I are always thinking of your best interests, and we’re worried you’re in denial about how you really feel after the divorce. We’re worried that you’re going to extremes in an attempt to find something you felt was missing from your life. And now you won’t tell us pretty much anything about this man you’ve brought into now not onlyyourlife, but ours.”
Myka doesn’t answer right away. “What’s Andrew’s darkest secret, Ana?”
“What?”
“Andrew. What’s his deepest, darkest secret? Tell me.”
“Myka, that’s hardly relevant. He’s my husband of almost twenty years.”
“It’s totally relevant, Anastasia. You love him. He trusts you. You’d never tell anyone.”
“You’re saying you love this man?” Ana is outright disbelieving.
“You’ve known him, what, a matter of weeks?”
“Am I saying I’m in love with him?” A sigh. “No. Could I be, and soon? Yes. I care about him. A lot. Maybe I am—it’s tricky. I’m worried about overwhelming him with too much too soon, so I have to proceed cautiously…for both of us, honestly, for myself as much as him.” A pause, her tone thoughtful. “I get your concerns, I really do. But I…I can’t explain it. Not totally. I could tell you about the ways he protects me. I could tell you about how he makes me feel—yes, physically. Which is important to me. Very, very much so. Darren never took care of me. Never…he was neverpassionate. I never felt like he couldn’t get enough of me. The opposite. I felt—feel, still—thrown awayby him. Discarded and shit on. And don’t give me that look, Mom. Not about the language, and not about the fact that I’m talking aboutsex. I’m not embarrassed, I’m not ashamed. I don’t feel guilty. It’s not wrong—it’sright. It’s the most right anything has ever been in my whole life. Andhegives that to me.”
My throat burns—she’s so fierce, so strong. It’s hidden under all the soft, the curve, the sweet, the tender. But she’s got a backbone of steel, and fire in her belly.
“Myka—” her mom starts.
“No. I won’t hear a word about it. Is he rough? Yes. He’s all rough edges. He’s hard. He’s been through a hell you cannotbeginto imagine. You can’t fathom thefirstthing.” Her voice goes quiet. “And Mom, I know you don’t like bringing it up, but what you went through as a kid with Gramps before he got sober…what Rev endured as a child makes that look like a Sunday picnic. That’s all I will say. But I hope that puts it into perspective for you.” She sighs. “But despite that, despite the fact that yes, violence is a part of his life, part of who he is, he’s gentle with me. No one has ever been kind to him, not ever, yet he’s kind to me.”
“Myka—” her mom tries again.
Myka runs over her. “Have I known him a long time? No. But I dated—courted—Darren according to you and Dad’s strict, old-fashioned rules, and I did so formonthsbefore I even held his hand. I courted and was engaged to Darren for over a year before we got married. And it turns out I didn’t know the first thing about him. How’d that work out for me, huh? Bottle of Tylenol and a bottle of wine, that’s how well it worked.” There’s a hiss of pain, I’m not sure from whom. “IknowRev. He’s shown me himself. Hisrealself. I don’t need to have known him for years to understand on a visceral level that I connect with him. That my feelings for him are real, and so are his for me. And besides, what does knowing someone really mean? Favorite color? Favorite food? Every detail of the past? No. It’s seeing the truth of who that person is, down deep. Darren hid that from me, never let me see it. He never loved me. Hewantedme, at first. I think he liked the idea of me.”
There’s a long silence before she continues.
“And honestly,” she says, thoughtful, thinking it out as she speaks, “I still don’t know where it went wrong, what happened to him. Why he treated me the way he did. I’ve never been able to wrap my head around it, because I know, Iknowin mysoulthat I dideverythingI could to love him, to be a good wife to him. I took care of him. I gave him everything I had, and then some, and even when I knew loving him was literally killing me, I kept trying. I don’t think I would ever have stopped, if I’m being honest. So, the truth is, the best, kindest, most loving thing he’s ever done for me was divorcing me—and being so awful and vindictive and selfish about it that I had to literally leave my own hometown to recover from it. I’m glad, too. He set me free. He gave me myself back. Gave me my life back. I was trapped in hell, being married to him, and now I’m free. And not only am I free, I have a man who genuinely cares for me. Someone I can give myself to that will appreciate it, handle me with care, and give back as much as he’s getting. And with Rev, I have the feeling that once he figures out how this whole happiness and love thing works, he’s going to have a hell of a lot to give. And I’m beyond eager to find out how that will feel. I can’twait.”
“How this whole happiness and love thing works?” Ana asks, repeating the phrase as a question. “Explain that.”
A thoughtful pause. “He’s kind of like an alien, in some ways. He’s experienced so little of what we, and most people, take for granted as normal parts of life. Being hugged. Being safe with people. Being cared about, at all. By anyone. Ever. He has literally one person in his life who has ever given one single shit about him, his brother Chance. They’re not brothers as in related, though. Honestly, from what I’ve seen, it’s closer than that.” She’s silent another moment. “It’s like how Uncle Jules is with the guys from the squad he fought in Desert Storm with. More than friendship, more than brotherhood. Something so deep that I don’t think you can ever have it or understand it unless you’ve fought and bled with that person. And with Rev and Chance, it’s even more than that.”
Goddamn, but she’s got that right.
“Rev has never had anything that wasn’t hard, painful, violent, and frightening in his life,” she continues. “Deep inside him, there’s this…this scared, hurt little boy who just wants to be loved. There’s a fragility about him, at the core of him, what of it he’s let me see. Not weak, just…fragile. Because it’s never seen the light of day, never been nurtured…” She stops abruptly. “I’m saying too much.”
“You can’t fix him, honey,” Faith says, hesitant, cautious.
“I don’t need to. He’s not broken.” Myka says this with total confidence. “He just needs to be loved. And I’m going to do that.”
“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Ana says. “You just got out of a horrific situation. It would kill me if this went south on you. I just don’t want to see you go through any more pain.”
“I know, Ana-banana. And I love you. I’m grateful for your concern. The best thing you can do is just be accepting. Don’t judge him.”
