Her Reluctant Husband Erica Marselas (best classic books .TXT) 📖

“You weren’t that bad.”

“But actions work both ways and I need you to talk to me. It’s time for you to be fully honest with me. Especially now that I know.”

I gulp and twist my hands. He grips my shoulders and shakes me. “He’s not here. You’ve told Liz, Ms. Gandy, and Maggie. Tell me.” He sighs and presses his forehead to mine. I glance into the depth of his green eyes and I sense his pain. Amongst it is a new layer of hurt; it’s raw and I feel the burn of the cuts that must still sting him. "I get why you never told me all through the years. I found his note, and you're right when you said I took his word over your character. I did it yesterday. I didn't take a second to just listen to you. I fucked up a million times not seeing what was in front of me when you were drowning yourself in alcohol. I can't take that back, but I can make it right. Talk to me. I love you and all I want is to help you through this so you at least start to sleep and eat again." He finally takes a breath.

"I don't know what to say."

“Can you tell me when it started? Anything. I don’t need the details, I’ve read enough of those.” He shakes at the apparent thought of them. “But I know you’ve been wanting to relieve some of the pressure. You don’t have to lie for him anymore.”

“Can we sit?” I ask. I don’t really want to do this standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the rain.

“Of course.” I close the umbrella as he walks me twenty feet to his pickup and opens the door. He helps me up and shuts the door, then walks to his side and gets in.

“Why didn’t you wait for me in here?” I roll my eyes. “You would’ve been dry.”

“Didn’t we have that conversation already? I like the rain.”

“Right. My bad.”

He takes my hand and presses his lips to my knuckles. “Now tell me.”

I rest my head against the headrest, and take a deep breath, as I watch the rain roll off the windshield. I can do this. “It started shortly after my dad died. At first, he was nice to me. Seemed concerned. Told me he wanted to be like you, where I could be comfortable with him. He actually gave me my first drink and my first kiss. I thought I could trust him. I mean he was always in our lives. It started with light touching when I was drunk, and I thought I liked it, but I was confused, especially when he started making me do things. Then he started to get more aggressive and mean. I tried to tell him no, but...” I wrap my arms around myself and stare off into the distance.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to do this now. I shouldn’t be pushing you.”

I place my hand over his wet hand and give him a small smile. “No, you’re right. I don’t have to keep his secrets anymore. I can trust you.”

He scoops up my hand and presses it to his lips. “Yes, yes you can.”

“Then, it’s okay.” I take a deep breath and steal my hand back. “Sometimes it just takes a minute. So, um, things got worse, but it was after this one party that I saw nobody was going to care. Whitney took me upstairs and threw me into her closet, so he could ‘talk’ to me.”

“Whitney,” he repeats her name with a heavy sigh and glances out the windshield.

“Yes, darling Whitney. She always loved making my life hell. I know she liked you and hated me because I was close to you. I don’t know whether she knew what was going on or not; it doesn’t matter, she contributed to my hell and Deacon’s actions.” He pinches his nose as if he’s in pain, and I huff. “Come on, you didn’t think I just hated her because she was pretentious bitch or she fucked you?”

His shoulders slump. “Can’t both of those apply?” He sighs and I guess he has point. “She told me about Monday and Whitmore.”

“The truth?”

“Only you can tell me that, but it matched a lot of what you said.”

My eyes widen slightly at his words and I nod. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“What happened at that party?”

“It’s not just what happened at that party. It’s just one of the many times that are scarred in my head, but it was because there was a witness. No way nobody didn’t hear me or see me after he...you know.” A small shiver runs down my back. “Like I said, it was that night that showed me no one cared. He told me nobody would ever care. I went to the cops once, but of course, Whitmore didn’t care. He threatened me all the time. He would get me drunk enough to comply, then I would get more drunk because then at least I was numb. This went on for two years, Alex. I didn’t trust anyone. I hero worshipped you, Alex, but I didn’t think you could help me. You were his best friend, you took his word over anything because you trusted him to watch me, and you just thought I was—” I look away and shrug.

“I was so convinced you were drinking and depressed over your dad. You had me convinced that’s all it was every time I asked you. Every cut, you had an excuse. Your stories matched his.”

He’s right. I fed into it, but I was always hoping someone would see what I saw.

“It got easier to lie over time. I could convince myself to have good days or at least pretend. I guess you