Preston’s silent for so long I’m almost positive he’s not going to say another word…but then he does.
“I was crying because it hurt, and that only made him angrier. He said I was acting like a little girl and that I needed to man up. So, I did. I tried fighting back, but I was too small and he easily overpowered me. He slammed me onto the carpet and…” His mouth clamps shut.
“And then what happened?”
My heart twists and my stomach knots…because I know what happened next.
Tears well in my eyes as a deep ache spreads through my chest, but I force myself to stay strong.
Preston needs me, and I will not let him go through this alone.
Wrapping my free arm around him, I pull him close. “I’m here.”
Preston’s voice is a broken whisper. “Then he raped me.”
Brad takes a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me, Preston. I know it wasn’t easy.” He looks between us. “I think Kit should keep attending our therapy sessions for now. It’s evident she provides a safe space for you and given all you’ve been through that’s very important to maintain.” His gaze rests on me. “Is that okay with you?”
It’s more than okay. “Of course.”
He stands. “Good. I’ll give you two five minutes to talk, but then you’ll have to leave.”
I hate that I have to go, but I understand. Preston needs to focus on him, not us.
Brad strides toward the door. “I don’t know if Preston told you, but we’re hosting a family day here at the end of next month. All family members are welcome to spend the day with their loved ones. We’ll provide refreshments and there will be activities.”
Despite the annoyed expression on Preston’s face, I nod. “I’ll be there.”
And depending on Asher’s schedule, maybe he will, too.
“Thank you,” Preston says after the door closes.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
If anything, I should be thanking him because he really did try.
A lump fills my throat. “I’m proud of you.”
“You shouldn’t be.” His finger brushes my cheek and I feel the contact everywhere. “I’m here because I fucked up.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, my vision blurring. “You did fuck up.”
Damn hormones.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean those things I said.” He cups my cheek, pulling me closer. “I lost control and freaked out.”
I should tell him.
But I’m afraid if I do, he’ll flip out again and it will derail the progress he just made.
I don’t doubt that Preston’s sorry, I feel it. But I’m also terrified that maybe he’s only saying he didn’t mean what he said about not wanting the baby because it no longer exists.
I’m afraid that deep down he feels relieved about it.
And if I tell him the truth and he loses it…I don’t think my heart could handle hearing those terrible things again.
“I should go.”
I stand, but he wraps a hand around my wrist. “Do you still love me?”
I blink, completely taken aback by his question because the answer is obvious. “Of course, I still love you.”
“Good.” He gets off the couch. “Because I will always love you. And I’m never giving up on us.” My heart knocks against my chest as he leans in…but despite how much I want him to close the distance between us, I press a hand to his chest, stopping him.
“I have to go.”
I know Preston loves me.
But I want him to love us.
Chapter 65
Preston
My therapist isn’t so bad after all. I wouldn’t say I like the guy or anything, but he’s pretty easy to talk to.
Especially when Kit’s around.
Her first time here was last week, and now she’s here again.
Last week we talked about my father.
This week…we talked about Jameson.
“I can see why you developed such a strong bond with him,” Brad says with a frown. “The turn of events are rather unfortunate.”
No shit.
I can’t even call Charlotte to see how he is because we’re not allowed to have cell phones.
Not that it matters because I left that one at the house.
I’d try calling her from here, but there’s this stupid rule that we’re only allowed to contact immediate family. They also punch the numbers in for us to make sure we abide by it.
It’s like prison…only you have less freedom here.
I’d ask Kit to call her, but I’m already putting her through so much already.
Asking her to find out about Jameson after I screamed horrible things about not wanting the baby she thought she was pregnant with seems cruel.
Brad stands up. “This was another good session. Keep it up, Preston. You might not see it, but you’re making some real progress.” He smiles at Kit. “As long as you continue on this path, you’ll not only be able to remain in the program, you’ll also be granted day pass privileges.”
Whoop-de-fucking-do.
I’d rather be granted the ability to press fast-forward so I can leave this shithole for good.
“I’ll let you two talk for five minutes.”
Fuck this five-minute bullshit. I should be able to be alone with my wife for however fucking long I want to.
Especially when I know something serious is going on with her.
Despite her telling me she still loved me last week—and holding my hand through therapy—she’s been distant.
I get it, I hurt her. Again.
But I’m trying to fix myself and be better.
That has to count for something, right?
Evidently not because she’s withdrawn. The only time she’ll let me touch her is when we’re in a session.
It fucking kills me. It feels like the first time we met all over again because while she has no problem talking about deep shit, she’s drawing the line at doing anything physical.
Which sucks because she somehow looks even hotter lately. My eyes drop down to the sweater she’s wearing. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since I’ve seen her naked, but I swear her tits look bigger.
Reaching for her jacket, she promptly throws it on and zips it.
Christ. Not only will she not let me touch her body, she won’t even let me look at it.
Kit heads for the door. “I’m gonna go.”
“We still have four and a half minutes.”
And I want to spend every second of them with her.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. “I know I hurt you, but stop shutting me out.”
Because as it turns out…I can’t take a dose of my own medicine.
Not from her.
“I’m not trying to,” she whispers. “I just…” Her voice trails off, like she wants to say something important, but she’s stopping herself.
But she shouldn’t, because she can tell me anything.
Unless she wants a divorce.
I’ll torch the fucking earth if she pulls that shit on me again.
“I have to go.”