and remain silent and obedient until they were ready to play with their prize.
“I know it sounds like a poor little rich girl story, but—”
“It doesn’t,” he cut in. One thing she’d learn about him fast is that he held no judgment for other’s journeys. He hadn’t been the only innocent man in that prison. Everyone had a story. Some were luckier than others, but he hadn’t met a single soul who’d made it through life unscathed. “I’ve learned that damage you can’t see can be much more caustic than bruises or blood. And money and privilege can’t always save you. Especially when it doesn’t sound as though it was ever yours.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Crazy as it sounds, I used to wish he’d just haul off and hit me. Then at least everyone would have been able to see what he was doing to me. Bit by bit, he stole me from me. He controlled all the finances and wouldn’t hear of me working. I wasn’t allowed to go to college or have friends outside his social circle. My way of doing anything was always incorrect. By the time I realized I was living in a gilded cage, I was trapped. I’d cut contact with my family and had no friends to confide in. He’d convinced me my low-class family would only drag us down. That no one would take him seriously if we associated with them. It sounds hard to believe now, but he had a way of twisting things and making me doubt myself that made all his bullshit believable.”
“A narcissist.”
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “I know that now. You know, he even complained about the way I answered the phone. Said that my ‘hello’ sounded too uneducated. Can you believe that?”
He believed it all right.
“The one time I tried to speak to a friend about how lonely and worthless I felt, Evan was waiting for me when I got home. He took my car keys, wallet, and phone. He also changed the Wifi password. For a week, I was his hostage. And it wasn’t the last time he pulled that trick. I lived in a bougie, very expensive prison.”
Evan. Now he had a name—what a piece of shit.
After she spoke, she sucked in a breath and covered her mouth. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have compared what I went through to being in prison. I know it can’t come close to what you went through.”
Curly stroked his thumb along the top of her foot. “Sweetheart,” he said, “your husband was a motherfucker who deserves to have his balls cut off. You may not have had steel bars, but it was a prison nonetheless.”
Though the circumstances were entirely different, they shared a bond born of powerlessness. She knew as he did what it meant to feel worthless and have no control over her life and how vital it was to cling to it once she’d regained autonomy. “I understand what it means to be at someone’s mercy and forced to live in a way I didn’t want to. In some ways, what you endured sounds even worse than being in jail. For me, the sentence was designed to be a punishment. You were supposed to have found your happily ever after.”
She bit her lower lip as she blinked rapidly. He didn’t call her out on the teary eyes. Quickly he was learning Brooke didn’t want to appear weak or helpless in front of anyone. Made sense considering what she’d suffered. Being criticized and insulted daily would stunt anyone’s emotional health. So he gave her a moment to collect herself while he sipped his beer and continued rubbing her foot.
A few moments passed before she spoke again. “He did hit me once.”
His hand stilled on her foot.
She’d spoken so low. Had he heard correctly?
The bleak expression on her face told him he had.
“Tell me.”
“It was the night I found Ray. Evan was late getting home from work. He never bothered to let me know if he was going to be late but still expected a hot and ready dinner waiting for him. Something had happened at work, I don’t even remember what it was anymore, but was in a foul mood. One of his worst. He’d been nasty and cutting about my outfit and hair, the reheated dinner, the cleanliness of the house, my ability as a wife in general. I stayed quiet and took it like I always did. Twisted as it now seems,