"I think you know why." He stepped closer, and the air between them felt charged with possibility. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then don't you think it's time we finally talked?"
There was an ironic twist to her smile. "If by talk, you mean that it's time for me to come clean, then yeah. It's time. I just--"
"What?"
"Nothing," she said. Because how could she tell him that her greatest fear was that once he knew the truth about her, he'd no longer want her anymore?
Chapter Twelve
They didn't go inside. Instead, they sat on a cushioned swing in the yard, far enough away from the house so as to not be in the glow of any ambient light. The night was moonless, and the dark surrounded them like a blanket as the stars blinked down, distant witnesses to the story she had to tell.
He sat properly, his feet on the ground so that he could push them, making the swing rock in a soothing rhythm. She sat with her back to the armrest and her bare feet on his lap. He rested a hand on her ankle, and she focused on that point of connection. She needed his touch to tell the story, and though she was ready to share, she was also grateful that his face was half-hidden in the shadows of the night. Somehow, it was easier to talk to the dark.
"I never lied," she began. "But I never really told the truth either."
She paused, giving him a chance to comment or ask her a question. He remained silent though, and she understood that was how this would work. She'd tell the story from start to finish. And only then would the floor be his.
After taking a long, deep breath, she began again. "It is Beau who's after me, but I really did think for a while that it c
ould be Reggie--I wasn't pulling your chain. But I thought so because of the theater references. And, well, because I knew the alternative, and couldn't believe that after so many years he'd found me."
She cleared her throat. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyway, once we talked to Reggie, it was clear that Beau had found me. And when I told you he was a creepy ex, that was mostly true, too. He's definitely creepy. And he's sort of an ex. But not the way you think." She paused, looking into the darkness. "Landon?"
She knew he was being quiet so she could get it all out. But she needed to hear his voice.
Gently, he squeezed the top of her foot. "I'm here, baby. I'm listening. Tell it however makes it easiest."
"He--I--my mother left when I was fifteen. My father abused her. I grew up hearing her cry. Hearing the lash of his belt against her skin." She heard her voice crack and paused to take a deep breath. "But she fought back in her own way. She saved money. From the very first day he hit her, she started hiding money away. And the day she left, she gave me what she'd saved up. Nine thousand, six hundred and fourteen dollars and thirty-seven cents. It was in cash--in a metal lockbox--and she showed me how to pull up the kitchen tile to get to the place where she'd hidden it. Then she left."
"For where?"
"I don't know. And she never came back." Her hands were on her thighs, and now she dug her nails into her legs. That had been the worst part--that her mother had said she'd loved her. But she'd left and hadn't once looked back. As if that stupid cashbox was a substitute for having her mother with her. As if those dollars could magically keep her safe from her father.
She'd learned a lesson though. The words I love you didn't mean shit. Her father had said them. Her mother had said them. And even though those two were polar opposites, they'd both been lying when those words left their mouths. Real love wouldn't have allowed her mother to walk away like that.
And as for her father ... well, Dale Tucker wouldn't know love if it bit him on the ass.
"She just left me with him." Her voice was a whisper. "Even though she knew what he'd do. What he was capable of."
"Did he ... hurt you?"
She shook her head, then voiced the word when she remembered that she was lost in the dark. "No. Not like you mean. But he was not a good man. He dealt drugs. He dealt weapons. I'm pretty sure he ran hookers. And he double-crossed his business partner. Not that the business was legitimate."
Memories started flooding back, and she hugged herself, trying to keep them at bay. It was no use. The past rushed up, making her stomach churn as she pulled the pieces out to share with Landon. "It was drug money, and the partner was Beau."
"Go on." She heard the tight edge in his voice and was certain that he believed that Beau had killed her father. But it was so much worse than that.
"My dad--he refused to give the money back. And the truth was that Beau didn't care about the money. He had plenty of money. But he saw an opportunity to get something he did want."
"What?" Landon asked.
"Me." Her voice cracked as she spoke. "He'd always watched me. From the time I was ten years old he'd told my mother that he was going to have a piece of me. And on that day, he told my dad that he could keep the money. So long as my dad gave him me. And my father said yes."
"Taylor, I can't even--"