“Ethan wanted children. I knew it would be irresponsible to bring a child into that environment, and I didn’t want anything that would tie myself to him for the rest of my life. I knew I was going to leave him by that point; I just didn’t know when. Anyway, I was on birth control, and he found out. He came at me. I tried to defend myself, but I was no match against him. He beat me, and…” I paused, struggling to get the rest out. “He choked me and defiled me… from… from behind in the worst possible way.”
Uttering those words made me feel as if I was being ripped apart from the inside. The shame tore at my soul, and with it came tremendous pain. I also felt a certain amount of relief through the hurt, as if the weight of the entire world had been removed from my shoulders.
He took a step back and began to walk in tight circles, raking his hands through his hair, patrolling like a wild animal locked in a cage. Shaking his head, he stopped pacing to look at me.
“Are you saying he…that he…he anally raped you?”
I winced, hearing him verbalize the brutality I tried so hard to keep buried. I wanted to lie—to deny what had happened—terrified Derek would look at me differently and wouldn’t want me anymore. I nodded reluctantly, knowing no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t escape the vicious truth.
“Yes. That’s why, when you pressed your weight down on my back, I lost it. I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d have that kind of reaction.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he growled.
“I thought he would surely kill me that day. When he didn’t, I realized I had to act. I know what you’re probably going to ask—no, I didn’t call the police. I couldn’t. Ethan’s a cop. The chances of someone helping me were slim to none. Not to mention, embarrassing him with a scandal would have been like signing my own death warrant. Instead, I got in touch with a few friends—Natalia, Teddy, and Ben. They saved me that day. There was a scene, but in the end, I got out. Without them, I’m not sure what would have happened. I’m only here today because of them. Hopefully, you’ll get to meet them one day. They’re the only family I have.”
Derek pulled me close, and this time, I welcomed his embrace. His touch seeped a little bit of warmth into my blood, which seemed to be flowing arctic cold. Taking my chin in his hand, he turned my head back to look at him.
“Do not blame yourself,” he said vehemently. “You’re not just another victim. You’re tougher than that. You got out. You’re a survivor.”
“I’m trying to be,” I whispered. The truth was, baring my soul left me vulnerable in ways I’d never felt before.
“You should talk to somebody, maybe a professional counselor about what happened to you. You can’t keep this all inside.”
“I’ve been talking to people, although I’ve never revealed as much as I just did with you. A couple of months ago, I started attending group therapy sessions at Stone’s Hope. Listening to the other women made me realize I wasn’t alone, and I’ve found strength through them. They’re the reason I had the courage to give you my truth tonight.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead and held it there for a long while. Tightening his arms around me, I felt the deep rise and fall of his strong chest.
“Do you trust me, Gianna?”
I looked up at him, liking the sound of my true name coming from his lips. I inwardly smiled when I realized what that meant.
No more Val.
No more hiding.
I could just be me again.
“Yes, why?”
“Because I want to show you something. Come with me.” Taking my hand, he led me to the bedroom. Once we were there, he turned to face me and lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “If you’ll let me, I want to show you what it feels like to be touched by someone who truly cares for you.”
“Derek, I—”
He held up his hand to stop me.
“No sex. It’s clear you’re not ready for that yet, and that’s perfectly okay. I won’t pretend to understand how you feel, but I know your husband took something from you, and now you’re afraid. Tonight, I just want to show you how to feel again. So, I’ll ask you once more. Do you trust me?”
“I trust you.”
33
Derek
I knew she had a story, knew it most likely contained violence, but never did I imagine the horrors she’d been through. I was sure she’d only scratched the surface of what he did to her. As she spoke, it was all I could do to keep the rage out of my voice when I whispered words of comfort. I meant what I said—I wanted to kill the mother fucker. Every time she said his name, I wanted to punch something. Knowing a monster like him had not only harmed her but touched her in the most intimate ways—he’d been inside her—brought a crippling pain to my chest. He deserved a long, slow, and painful death.
However, my wrath wasn’t what she needed right now. Gianna, my beautifully broken Gianna, needed to know what it felt like to be loved and cherished.
I saw a lump move down her throat as if she were attempting to swallow her nerves. I reached for her hand, intent on bringing it up to cover my heart and offer words of assurances, but when I saw her gaze flit to where my grip held her tiny wrist, I froze. My hand looked so big wrapped around her delicate bones. I wondered if it looked this small in her husband’s grasp—wondered why he didn’t care enough to consider it, deciding to use her as a punching bag instead.
I took a cautious step closer and held her gaze. Her eyes were indecisive, and I had a fleeting thought she might throw me out. Not wanting to give her another second of hesitation, I released her hand, walked over to her closet, and began rifling through her clothing in search of a robe of some kind.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m looking for a bathrobe. Do you have one?”
“Um, yeah. It’s hanging on the hook behind the bedroom door.”
Turning in the direction she pointed, I crossed the room in a few short strides to retrieve the thin, terrycloth robe.
“Please get undressed and put this on. When you’re ready, meet me in the bathroom.”
One of her eyebrows quirked up in confusion, but I didn’t answer any of the unspoken questions. Exiting the bedroom, I headed into the bathroom. Once there, I turned the faucet on over the old-fashioned clawfoot tub and adjusted it until the temperature was suitable for a bath. On the counter next to the sink, I spotted a basket full of colorful, chalky looking balls. Recognizing them as bath bombs from the years I’d shared an apartment with my sister, I grabbed one and dropped it into the now half-full tub. Little fizzies floated to the surface of the water, and a sweet vanilla-strawberry scent began to fill the air. A few minutes later, Gianna came into the bathroom just as I’d asked, wearing nothing but her robe.
“I’m not sure what you have planned but I don’t think both of us can fit in the tub,” she remarked wryly. Although she kept her tone light, I could see the apprehension in her eyes.
“We aren’t taking a bath. You are. Turn around.”
Slowly, she turned until she was facing the tub and her back was to me. Gliding my hands up her arms, I lightly squeezed her shoulders in an attempt to loosen the tension I felt in them. Leaning in, I nudged her head to the side so I could trail kisses up the side of her neck. As I did, I slid my fingers under the lapels of her robe until it slid down her shoulders. She let out a little gasp.