Page 86 of The Curveball
“I was trapped underneath him, bleeding from the piece of glass jabbed in me, and I just . . . I remember screaming for my dad.” She sniffs and wipes the tears away. “I kept kicking, but he was so big, and pure dead weight. It felt like I couldn’t breathe, but I think I might’ve been having a panic attack. I don’t know how long I was there before Darren and Carter heard me.”
“Your brothers found you?”
She nods, using the back of her hand to wipe her nose. “By then Clay was starting to come around. He shouldn’t have been pressuring me, true, but this—” she points at the scar. “This was an accident.”
“He didn’t mean to impale you with broken glass, but he was older and shouldn’t have been trying to get you do anything you didn’t want to do.”
She wrings her hands together. “You can imagine what the twins thought when they saw their sister on the ground with blood all over her throat.”
No wonder they looked ready to bury me in the backyard when they first came to my house.
“Darren lost it,” Wren goes on. “He started pummeling Clay while Carter went to get our dad. It was chaos.” She chuckles, almost snidely. “My dad had the decency to take me to the ER, but then did the basic questions every girl wants to hear. What did I do to provoke it? Did I give him the expectation, blah, blah, blah.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep. You should’ve heard the tongue-lashing Darren got for breaking his baby boy’s nose. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that was the last time we went to my dad’s house. In fact, that’s when we really stopped having much of any relationship.”
“What did your mom do?”
“She wanted to press charges against him, but my dad’s legal resources are incredibly prepared for scandals. Plus, what could she really say? I wasn’t drinking underage; he didn’t force himself on me.”
“Debatable.”
“Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.” She rubs a hand on my chest. “I started having major panic attacks where I always thought I was suffocating. I just wanted it to go away. I didn’t want to get tied up in a big battle, so she conceded because of me and told my dad I’d never go over there again if Clay was still there. Spoiler: I didn’t go to my dad’s house against for several years.”
I hold her tighter. “You deserved more, baby.”
“My dad sort of disappeared for a while. I think he felt guilty, but still sided with Clay, as always. He soothed his guilt by paying for things and using money to control us, even forcing Darren to take Clay on as a business partner if he wanted the collateral to start his shop.”
“That’s messed up.”
Wren shrugs. “Cleo thinks it was our dad’s way of trying to heal resentments, but Clay backed out and left Darren hard up. It only made resentments worse.”
“How has your dad not kicked this guy in the kneecaps?”
She snorts and hugs my bicep. “He made him apologize profusely for getting so intoxicated around his daughter.”
“Oh, well, let’s give the man a freaking medal for apologizing.”
Wren lets her head fall to my shoulder. We’re silent for a long time. Me, seething. Her, drifting through memories.
“I think that’s what hurts the most,” she admits. “He took Clay back, even after he knew how he’d wanted to fool around with me, and what if that broken glass had been a few inches higher? It would’ve gone right into my throat.
“I was ashamed for a long time about the entire thing. I was ashamed of the scar. I started blaming myself for what happened a lot. I’d rehash things I said, or wonder if I caused Clay to think we were more.”
I trap her face in my hands and press an aggressive kiss to her forehead. “You came to the right conclusions, though. You know it’s not on you, right? You know that if you refused, the jerkoff should’ve stopped. He shouldn’t have been messing with you to begin with, butheis to blame.”
“I know,” she says. “But I felt rejected for a lot of years. The worst part is my dad doesn’t get it. He views it like a stupid mistake made between two kids, and I should let it go since it’s been over a decade.”
“Baby, that’s not right.” I sit up. “You don’t let things control you, but it does not mean you need to forget.”
She adjusts so she’s sitting cross-legged in front of me. Foreheads pressed together, she strokes the side of my face. “It took therapy and my family, but yeah, I get that now. It’s why I write romance, you know. I write the guys the way I wish they would’ve been back then. Strong, sexy, but kind. Like you.”
“I’d never hurt you, Wren.” I let go of her body long enough to hold my hands palm up. “These hands will never touch you in anger, or force, or anything other than showing you how much I love you.”
Wren draws in a sharp breath. My eyes widen.
“Okay,” I say, laughing. “That is not how I planned on saying that. I promise. There was a lot more romance involved.”