Clarity - Nicole Dykes Page 0,43

for him, and he keeps going. “I feel his fists slamming into my face. Her hands and mouth on my dick that swelled for her.”

I shake my head, tears falling. “You got hard because you were fourteen and someone was touching your cock. It wasn’t because you wanted it or even because it felt good.”

I see his eyes filling with hot, angry tears, and I want to scream. Fuck every adult who ever hurt a child, who robbed them of their innocence. “Rhys. Look at me.”

He doesn’t.

His head hangs down, and I do the only thing I can do to try to bring him back to me.

I touch him.

I jolt to life when I feel her hand on my bare stomach, the muscles tighten as my hand grabs her wrist to pull her away.

“Rhys. It’s me.”

I look into her eyes. “I know who you are.”

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. I wasn’t even sure she was capable of crying, but hey, my fucked-up reality would make anyone sob.

I’ve never, ever spelled out the abuse I suffered at the hands of the Bradfords. I got drunk one time and told Quinn in a slurred mess of words I’m not even sure she could decipher, but I've never talked about it sober and with so much clarity.

But Blair needs to know who she married.

She needs to know just how fucked-up I am because right now as her fingers touch my skin, I feel sick to the point of throwing up.

Because sex is confusing to me. They made it feel so good I had an orgasm, but inside I felt like I was going to die, like I wanted to die.

I don’t let go of her wrist, but she flattens her palm over my abs and slides it up over my heart with my hand still latched onto her. “Thank you for telling me. I know that’s probably only the surface . . .”

“No that’s it. They both fucked me, and he beat me for two years.”

“You’re generalizing it.”

“You want more details?” I glare down at her, but she doesn’t back down now.

“No,” she shakes her head, “unless you need to talk about it. But everything they did was wrong, no matter how good they made it feel. It was wrong.”

“I know that,” I snap.

“Do you think I’m going to see you differently?”

“Ha,” I laugh coldly. “Don’t you?”

“No. I already knew who you were, but now that I understand why you flinch when I touch you . . .” Her hand drags down over my ab muscles again, my hand still around her wrist. “Now, maybe I can help you get through it.”

“How?” I’m so fucking angry I could scream. I know this is Blair’s hand in mine. Not either of the Bradfords’, but it doesn’t matter. I still feel repulsed by the touch.

“Do you trust me, Rhys?”

I look at her, really look into her eyes, searching the depths of her soul. But I shake my head. “I don’t trust anyone.”

Her lips lift with a small smile I don’t expect. “I think you do. I think you trust me.”

Her hand smooths over my lower stomach, and I fight the urge to jerk away.

“I’ve been used before, Rhys. My whole life I was a toy, a warm body for men to do what they wanted with it and then throw away.” I feel sick knowing that’s definitely the truth and that I'm one of those worthless motherfuckers. “But you’re the only one who makes me feel useful.” I’m surprised by that. “Like I helped you in some way.”

“You did.”

She smiles sweetly, almost too sweetly for Blair, but I don’t point it out. “So, let me help you.”

“I freak out, Blair. Touch is just . . .” Disgusting. I think it, but it’s like she filled it in.

“Not mine.” She takes her other hand and brushes it over my cheek, and I feel like I'm going to leap out of my skin, but I stay put. “I think whether you wanted to or not, you kind of like me.”

“I do.” I close my eyes. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s not you, Blair.”

“Shhh . . .” What the fuck? I open my eyes just as her lips approach mine, but don’t touch. “Did you ever kiss her?”

“No. Fuck no. She was always slobbering all over me, but I would rather cut out my tongue than kiss her back.” I force my eyes closed again, trying to will away the memories of her acting