I couldn’t because Creed held tight.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I said that, beautiful. I should never have said that.”
“I watched you in my rearview mirror,” I told him.
He pulled on my hand and his voice was gruff when he pleaded, “Baby, f**kin’ please, come back to bed.”
“I was so happy.”
“Jesus, Sylvie.”
“I sat on that pier for hours the next day. It was so hot, the Snickers bars melted in their wrappers. I got sunburn.”
His hand tugged at mine and his voice was harsh when he said, “Fuck me, Sylvie, please, come back to bed.”
“I looked everywhere. I couldn’t find you.”
“Fuck.”
“Days, I looked and I couldn’t find you.”
“Baby, please.”
My voice broke on my repeated, “I couldn’t find you,” and Creed was done.
I knew this because he yanked on my arm and I went flying to him. Then I was in his arms in bed, tucked mostly under him, one of his hands cupping the back of my head, pressing it into his throat, both arms holding me tight.
“I couldn’t find you,” I whispered into his skin.
“I’m here.”
“You always protected me.”
“Fuck me, f**k me, f**k me,” he murmured into the top of my hair.
“When Daddy gave me to him, I knew you’d come back and take me away. Take care of me.”
“Fuck, Sylvie.”
“You didn’t come back.”
Creed said nothing.
I lay in his arms and it hit me what I was saying and what it must sound like.
“I don’t blame you,” I told him quickly.
Creed said nothing.
“After that, what they did to that girl, I would have done the same thing,” I declared.
Creed said nothing.
“You did what you thought was right. You couldn’t know. We didn’t know Daddy was hooked on blow. Hooked so bad, in so deep, he had to pay Richard off with me.”
Creed said nothing.
“Creed.”