His stomach knotted. “Never look back at what?”
“I haven’t had the best luck with the men in my life.”
He had assumed that, but he hated knowing he was right.
“The last guy I went out with led me to believe things about him that weren’t true, and I ended up hurting people without meaning to because of it. But that’s not all his fault. I was so wrapped up in being happy that I missed the signs.”
“I can’t imagine you hurting anyone. What do you mean by that?”
Her arm slid across her stomach, and she leaned the elbow of her other hand on it, nervously touching her chin with her fingers. “I went out with him for three months before I found out that he was married.” She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. “I didn’t know. I would never go out with a married guy. I was working at a tattoo shop in New York at the time, and one day I was sitting on the curb out front eating lunch and he came out of the shop next door. We got to talking and hit it off. After that he’d show up and bring me flowers, take me to lunch. One thing led to another, and we started going out. We saw each other a few times a week because he said he traveled a lot. He treated me well, and I thought I was being careful, asking all the right questions to figure out if he was safe to go out with. It wasn’t until I came to the Cape a few years later and I met Tank and he showed me what it really meant to check someone out that I realized I hadn’t done nearly enough.”
He’d like to get his hands on that asshole. “How did you find out he was married?”
“His wife came into the shop carrying their baby girl and went off on me. I honestly thought she had me confused with someone else, because he said his name was Frank, but apparently that was his middle name, and I wasn’t the first woman he’d cheated with.”
“The bastard took advantage of you, Cait. You can’t blame yourself because he was a liar and a cheat.”
“No, but I can blame myself for not checking him out more thoroughly before getting involved. I was twenty-six, and I’d been through hell with a guy before him. It had been years since I’d even given a guy the time of day. I should have known better. But I learned from that experience. I no longer try to have romantic relationships with men. If I have the urge to . . . you know . . . I’ll go out with a guy once or twice on my terms, but that’s it. Over and done. No chance for emotions. And I don’t do that often. In fact, it’s been a really long time.”
“That explains a lot. What happened with the guy before Frank?”
Her jaw clenched, and she looked away.
Her reaction told him it was worse. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know so I can understand what you’re dealing with.”
“He got rough with me,” she said just above a whisper.
His gut seized. “Jesus, Cait. He hurt you?”
She nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Badly?”
“Bad enough that it took me years to get up the courage to get close to another guy.”
Motherfucker. He took her hand between both of his, wishing he could track the asshole down and pound him into the ground. “Did you report him to the police?”
“No. I was twenty and I’d been moving from town to town, living in shelters and group houses. I didn’t think they’d take me seriously.”
He gritted his teeth, hating that she’d been abused and that she’d had such a hard life. He wanted to know why, but first things first. “What did you do?”
“I did what I could. I hitched a ride to another town, found a job, and moved on.”
“Christ, Caity.” It sickened him to think of her running scared from some prick who deserved to be in jail. “I’m sorry you went through that. I wish I’d been there. I never would have let that happen.” He lifted his hands with hers between them and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “How about you tell me who this guy is so I can make him pay for what he did?”
She shook her head. “Violence won’t change anything, and it’s been twelve years.”
Twelve years, and she was still affected by it. The fucker must have messed her up pretty bad. Violence might not be the answer, but at least that guy would get his due and think twice about hurting anyone else. But Brant wouldn’t push. He hadn’t gone through anything even remotely like that, but he understood the need to move on.
“Do you mind if I ask why you were living in shelters? Did you have a falling-out with your father?”
She looked away again. “You could say that.”
The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “What else could you say?”
She looked up at the sky, blinking repetitively, her jaw clenched tight.
Anger roiled inside him. “Did your father hurt you?”
She inhaled shakily, and he had his answer.
He moved closer, holding her hands in one of his and putting his other arm around her, speaking just above a whisper. “My sweet Caity. What kind of hell have you been through?”
“The kind where I consider myself lucky to have only been physically and emotionally abused and not sexually abused.” She turned her face farther away, but not before he saw tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about my father. That’s not what I came here to do.”
Anger and sadness consumed him, but he forced that ire down deep because Cait was letting him in, and the last thing she needed was another angry guy in her life. He had to believe that she’d tell him more when she was ready. For now, he needed her to know that she was safe with him.
“No wonder you got scared by our connection and my flirting. You didn’t know me from Adam when you first came here. Jesus, you had just learned about Ava and your sisters, and you had all of that in your past. I wish I had known. I wouldn’t have come on so strong.”
“I deal with guys flirting every day. It’s not that.” She was still looking away, tears slipping down her cheeks.
He waited for her to say more, and when she didn’t, he said, “Cait, I won’t push you, but I need you to know that I will never lift a hand to you. That’s a promise. I’m not that guy. I can’t even lie with a straight face.”
“Except about tattoos.” She swiped at her tears.
He didn’t know if she was trying to be funny or showing him that he did lie, even if it was about something silly.
“Caity, please look at me,” he said softly, and she wiped her eyes and turned with a regretful expression that cut him to his core. “Sweetheart, you met my family. You know my friends, the families I grew up with. I’m thirty-three years old. If I was that type of guy, people around here would know. You don’t have to believe me, but one day I hope you will.”
“I don’t think you’re like that. Abby wouldn’t encourage me to go out with you if you were, and Tank checked you out the right way. He says you’re as clean as a Boy Scout.”
“Well, I am the good one,” he said to lighten the mood, earning a small smile. “But if Tank checked me out and you knew I was a good guy, then why did you run?”
“Because I don’t make out in public. Or at all, really, and I got so lost in you, it terrified me that I gave up control so easily. You literally kissed me senseless.” She shrugged, tears brimming. “I forgot we were even on the dance floor, and as it all came back into focus, I wasn’t thinking about Tank having checked you out or Abby telling me how great you are for the last three months. I was thrown right back into protective mode. I needed to regain control of myself and put my walls back up.”