He waited patiently and she went on.
“When my mother was in middle school, my grandfather lost his job and Grandma began cleaning homes for wealthier families. My mother went to school with some of those kids. After a while, she had to wear hand-me-down clothes, and the kids at school made fun of her for it. She was angry, hurt, and turned it on the world. She blamed her parents, treated them horribly, and was determined to do better.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for her,” he muttered.
She grinned at that. “My mother got a scholarship to college, but she had to work part time too. But she was determined to marry well and, as Scarlett O’Hara would have said, never wear hand-me-downs or be hungry again. Unfortunately for her, when the guy she set her sights on brought her home, his family didn’t accept her. They had plans for their son, and he was going to marry within his own social class.”
“Ouch. Although, I’m thinking considering she didn’t learn from how she was treated, she got what she deserved.”
Amanda nodded. “She never did meet her wealthy prince. She married my dad, a nice guy from back home, who sold insurance. But she was bitter. And she couldn’t see the good in life or the fact that her husband provided well. He put a roof over her head and clothes on her back.”
“But not designer duds,” Decklan said.
Amanda shook her head. “Nope. Not until she began to max out his credit cards. And when she had a daughter, she transferred all those unfulfilled expectations to me.”
“Ahh, baby, I’m sorry. You got a raw deal with her.”
“There’s more.” She rested her head on his chest for a moment, gathering her courage to reveal the rest. “Umm … when I was younger, I was bulimic.”
His arms squeezed her tighter, telling her without words he was listening. He was here. And it helped that she didn’t have to see his face as she revealed her deepest personal secrets.
“It started so simply I didn’t realize what was happening. My mother kept pushing me. Nothing I did was good enough. I needed better grades, better friends, I needed to lose weight, eat right. So when I was around her, I did as she asked. And then at night, I’d sneak food I bought at school because there wasn’t any junk in the house. When my friends and I started to drive, it got even easier to buy and eat away from home or sneak the food into my room. I’d binge at night and throw the garbage away at school the next day. No one at home knew. Except I was gaining weight.”
“Which didn’t make your mother happy.”
She shook her head. “She came down even harder on me because she was also frustrated, and I felt pressure to lose the weight but … I couldn’t not eat. So I started to … purge. And it became a vicious cycle.”
“God.” His voice sounded low and raw.
Like he was hurting, for her. The thought amazed her.
“How did you stop?” he asked.
The answer to that was easy. “I got caught.”
He groaned. “What did your mother do?”
She let out a laugh. “Not by my mother. A teacher walked into the school bathroom looking for someone. When I came out, she was waiting. She asked if I wanted to go to the nurse and call home because I was sick. Once again, my emotions got the best of me, and I burst into tears and revealed everything. She was so kind and wanted to help. She took me to the school psychologist.”
His arms were locked around her, her head on his chest, and she found comfort in the steady beat of his heart. “I was so lucky that I found someone who really understood. And because she cared, I really wanted to please her. I wanted to get better, to like me.”
“Did your mother know about your issues?”
“The psychologist tried to talk to her. She just said I was using any excuse to eat or get attention.” She shrugged. “We had to work around her.”
“What about your dad? I want to ask if he stood up for you, but given all you’ve told me—”
She shook her head and confirmed his thoughts. “Dad’s a good guy, but Mom runs the show. She wears the pants, says jump, and he asks how high.”
“I should give him a lesson or two in taking control of women.”
She grinned, that thought lightening the moment. “Yeah, can we not talk about my father and … that?”
He laughed and agreed.
Her heart pounded hard in her chest, as if she’d run hard and fast and now needed to come down from the rush. To her amazement, she’d bared her soul. And he was still here, not judging. She was grateful to Decklan for that—and so much more.
Decklan didn’t know how he managed to laugh after hearing about the childhood Amanda had endured. What a mess. The people who were supposed to love and protect her hadn’t. She’d had no experience with a father figure who taught her about her own self-worth. Not like Lucy, who’d had a father who thought she hung the moon and the stars, Decklan thought.