I stared at the comforter.

It took a while, a long while, then there was gliding. Slow, sweet, gentle.

Had he been sweet?

He’d been sweet.

But not to me.

Never to me.

To who he wanted me to be.

I felt lips touch my shoulder.

That felt sweet.

But he wasn’t sweet.

I knew sweet.

Now I knew sweet.

It wasn’t him.

“Be back.”

He slid out. I felt covers flipped over me. The bed moved.

He was gone.

I threw the covers back and bolted. On my feet, beside the bed, I saw my jeans and panties.

I didn’t bother with the panties, I yanked on my jeans.

Where was my bra?

Fuck.

I couldn’t find my bra.

Fuck it.

I needed a top.

“Cher?”

I saw my bag in the corner.

That’s where I’d find a top.

I ran to it.

“Cher.”

I dug through.

Who packed this? There was nothing there. Makeup. Deodorant. Socks. Jeans. Some panties.

I needed a goddamned top!

“Baby, what the fuck?”

I felt a hand light on my back.

I whirled viciously, swiping it away.

“Jesus.”

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” I bit out.

“Cherie—”

“Do not ever fuckin’ touch me,” I clipped.

I saw a hand come my way, aiming at my jaw, and heard a soft, gentle, sweet repeat of “Cherie—”

I attacked.

Savage.

Wild.

I hit. I kicked. I clawed. I bit.

I heard grunts. I heard curses.

I nearly got caught but leapt away and kept fighting.

Verbally.

“You hold me down, do you see her?” I asked, my voice grating with fury.

“See who?”

“See her. See her. See her! When you hold me down, face in the bed, motherfucker, do you see her? The woman you wish you were fucking?”

“Cher, that’s—”

“Do you?”

“Baby, it’s only you.”

“Fuck you!”

“It’s only ever been you.”

“Fuck you!”

The two words rent the air. They weren’t a crack. They weren’t a slice.

They were a slash.

They went through me.

I felt them.

I just wanted them to go through him.

Leave him bleeding.

Leave him.

Destroy him.

Get him out of me for good.

I had to go.

Fuck.

I had nothing on up top.

I didn’t care.

I turned and ran.

I didn’t make it out the door. I was caught with an arm at my waist.

I started fighting again.

I was shifted to the side, pressed front against a wall, nearly immobilized, only able to kick back.

But I wasn’t hitting anything.

“Calm down.” The growl came at my ear. “Talk to me. What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

“No more. No more of that shit. Hold me down so you can’t see me. Fuck me. Think of her.”

“Have you lost your goddamned mind?”

“You think I don’t know?”

“You don’t know.”

“I know.”

“Jesus, Cher. If you knew, you wouldn’t say this shit. You wouldn’t even think it. It’s you, for fuck’s sake. Been you since the beginning. Never her. Christ, woman, I’m in love with you. Mia does not factor.”

I stilled.

Mia?

“You gonna calm down?”

I stared at the wall.

Merry’s wall.

Merry’s wall in Merry’s bedroom in his crappy condo.

I’m in love with you.

The words should have given me something else.

Instead, they opened me up for it to come.

And it came.

Oh yeah, it came.

The pain.

The pain of shame.

Fast. So fucking fast. No way to hold it back. It tore through me in a way I couldn’t hold it back. Not anymore. I couldn’t bury it. I couldn’t stop it overwhelming me.

My legs buckled under the weight of it and I slid down the wall.

I didn’t hit the floor.

I heard, “Jesus, baby,” and I was up.

I curled into him, and when we were down and my ass was in his lap, I burrowed into him.

Through this they fell.

The tears.

Uncontrolled.

Choking me.

Drowning me.

They felt strange. Hot. Ticklish. Shameful.

Hateful.

“I’m right here, Cherie,” he murmured, one arm holding me tight, the other hand stroking my hair. “Not goin’ anywhere. I’m right here. Talk to me. Where’d that shit come from? What’s goin’ on, honey?”

I tried to suck in breath.

Through the sobs, I barely got any in.

I burrowed closer like he could give me oxygen.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Just hold on and get it out.”

I did as told.

I held on and let it go.

He held on too. He stroked me.

And he absorbed it.

This went on for what felt like years before I started to quiet.

He said nothing. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask.

He just kept holding me, stroking me, and letting me let go.

Just like Merry.

Perfect.

“I should have known,” I whispered into his skin.

“Shoulda known what, brown eyes?” Merry whispered back.

“He did me on my stomach. Hands and knees. Only those. He never let me look at him. I thought it was his kink, but I should have known that wasn’t kink. It was sick. I didn’t know that if he let me look at him, he would have seen me. Me. And he wouldn’t have been fucking Feb.”

I wheezed as Merry quit stroking and both his arms tightened so hard, I couldn’t breathe.

Just as quickly as he did it, his arms loosened.

But not by much.

“I triggered a memory,” he muttered.

He did.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Fuck.”

I pushed even closer. “Not your fault.”

He was silent a second before he urged gently, “Give it to me.”

I took my moment of silence before I said softly, “In the beginning, before I learned, learned what he didn’t like, he held me down and would say it. ‘Stay down.’”

“Fuck,” he repeated.

“Not your fault, Merry.”

“We’ll avoid me fuckin’ you on your belly in the future. And definitely those words.”

I closed my eyes tight. “No.”

“Cher—”

It took a lot to pull my shit together and give him my puffy eyes, my red face, any ability to look at me at all after that scene.

But I did it and I did it because he was Garrett Merrick.

I looked at him.

He wasn’t freaked. He wasn’t disgusted. He wasn’t angry.

He looked troubled.

And he looked upset.

For me.

Yes, that’s why I could look the way I looked after what had just given me that look and give the evidence of it all to Garrett Merrick.

“He doesn’t get that,” I told him.

Merry put a hand to my face, rubbing his thumb through the wet on my cheek. “Whatever you want.”

“All that was going down, us getting together, my neighbor, your ex, Trent and Peggy, I didn’t…” I trailed off but finished, “You were my first…after him. I should have guessed I’d need to keep a handle on it. I didn’t guess.”

Merry didn’t reply. He just watched his thumb slide across my cheek.

“You think I’m a girl,” I muttered.

His thumb stilled and his eyes cut to mine. “What?”

“Freaking out. Falling apart. Sobbing in your arms,” I explained.

His face froze and his body under mine got tight.

And his voice sounded weird when he noted, “Honey, you are a girl.”

“Yes, but—”

“And I’m pretty fuckin’ glad you’re a girl.”

He would be.

“Of course, but—”

“And seriously, you havin’ it totally together with this relationship thing was fuckin’ with my man mojo. Takin’ on my shit. Balancing me and your kid. Building two relationships at the same time—the one we got, the one you gave me with Ethan. Weathering every storm like it’s nothin’ but sprinkles. Not a big fan of you losin’ your mind in my bedroom after I fuck you. But there are far worse things than bein’ there for my girl while she cries in my arms and lets go of some serious shit that’s burning a hole in her soul. It means something to me that you trusted me with that. It means something that you trusted me to be strong enough to handle it.”