Dirty Toe Drag by Toni Aleo
Chapter Twenty-Four
Wes
I guessI should have asked if Stella wanted to head to my house, but I really didn’t know where else to go. The conversation we need to have can’t happen in a restaurant or a bar or even a coffee shop. It’s too private. And let me say this, I’m fucking petrified. I’m pretty sure I haven’t unclenched my jaw since we got in the truck. This is all about to get really real, and I almost don’t know if I can do it. I gave Aiden the Cliffs Notes of the Cliffs Notes of what happened to me. The abbreviated version won’t be enough for Stella. She needs to know; she needs to decide if this is something she wants to continue with me. I’m realizing I haven’t healed all the way, and if we’re going to be in a relationship, she’ll be a part of that healing.
I don’t know if I can even ask her to do that.
Like Emery ruthlessly informed me, Stella could have anyone. All she’d have to do is say she’s single on social media, and the guys would fall over themselves for her. She could have her pick of any guy she wanted. Between her beauty and her wits, they’d have no chance. Hell, I know I don’t. I think that’s what I’m most fearful of. I’m not scared to share my abuse—it is what it is—but I’m scared it’ll change how she feels about me.
Unlike usual, we ride in silence. She hasn’t pulled out her phone, but she sits with her hands in her lap, fingers laced together. The music plays low on the radio, and the quiet between us is killing me. The tension is overwhelming. My mind is going a million miles a second, and I’m sure she’s worried about what I’m thinking. I’m sure she’s just as freaked out as I am. I mean, I would be if I were in her shoes.
I feel my phone vibrate beside me. I look down to see a number I don’t know. I notice she looks too and then up to me. “Side chick?”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Nope, you’re too much woman for me, Stella Brooks.”
Her lips curve up, and when I notice they haven’t left a voice mail, I remind myself to block the number. I’ve been getting weird number after weird number lately, and if there is no voice mail, I just block it. It’s how I am coping. I don’t know if it’s my dad, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to give him a chance to get to me.
Fuck, I don’t want to give him a moment of my thoughts. I need them free and on point so I can talk to Stella. I clear my throat. “I am taking you to my place. Hope that’s okay?”
She nods. “I figured that’s where we were going.”
“You weren’t going to ask?”
She looks over at me, her lashes long and black. “I trust you,” she says with a shrug, and my heart sings for this girl. I look out at the road, turning onto my street. When I pull into my driveway, I open the garage and head in. Once I’m fully inside, I hit the button to close the garage and shut off the truck. I look over at her and she is getting out, so I do the same. Before I close the door, though, I grab my phone, tucking it into my back pocket. I walk around the truck, meeting her at the base of the stairs.
“You could have gone in.”
“I didn’t know if it was locked,” she says as I throw the door open, letting her in before me. I shut the door as she heads for the couch, sitting down. I throw my keys and phone on the coffee table before looking down at her.
“Want something to drink?”
“Do you have soda?”
“I do,” I say. I know I’m buying time, but what can I say? I’m nervous. I head into the kitchen, getting two glasses and filling them with ice before pouring the soda. “How was your day?”
She doesn’t look at me, but she shrugs. “It was busy. I’m exhausted.”
Probably both physically and mentally. I know I am.
“What flavor cupcakes did you make?” I say, coming to the couch with both glasses.
She takes one, and I hate that she doesn’t even smile. Usually talking about cupcakes brings her such joy. I really fucked up here. “The pink cupcakes are guava cake with cream cheese frosting. We made cute little pink question marks for them and then blue ones for the blue cupcakes. For the blue, we made a blueberry lemonade cake with cream cheese frosting. They’re all so damn good.”
My mouth is watering. “I’m unsure if I want a boy or girl here.”
She laughs. “You can eat both.”
“Oh, okay. I’ve never been to a gender reveal.”
“No?”
“Never,” I say, and I love the surprised grin on her face. “I thought if I was rooting for a boy, I could only eat the boy things.”
She giggles. “No. You can have whatever you want.”
“Are you on the menu?” I ask with a wink, and her grin grows.
“Always for you,” she says, stroking her hand along my thigh. “But enough of the small talk, huh?”
“Yeah. We kind of suck at it.”
She nods as I cover her hand with mine. “Almost as bad as Emery.”
“No one is as bad at small talk as Emery.”
“We’re close,” she admits, holding my gaze. When I look away, she lets out a long, annoyed sigh. “Wesley, come on. Let’s fix this because I miss you. So much.”
My heart, I don’t even know how to describe the pain it feels. “I missed you all day,” I admit, unable to look at her. “It was hard not reaching out to you.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because I was embarrassed,” I admit, shaking my head. “I couldn’t believe I acted the way I did last night. And I was worried that if I wrote back, you’d want to break up—or worse, want to know what the hell my issue is.”
“Yeah, it’s the latter for me.” She reaches up, taking my jaw in her hand and directing my gaze to her. “Look at me, Wes. I’m not going anywhere.”
I want to laugh or sob, one of the two. “You can’t promise that.”
“Sure, the future is unknown, but right now, I want you. I want us. Do you want the same thing?”
“Of course,” I rush out, almost as if I’m out of breath. “But wanting each other is one thing. Dealing with my demons is another.”
Her eyes narrow, but they’re still full of compassion. “Your demons don’t scare me, Wes. The only thing that scares me is you shutting me out.”
Her confidence is intoxicating. She truly believes that my demons wouldn’t scare her. How can she be so self-assured? I feel like my heart is jumping up into my throat, suffocating me and making me light-headed. I never told my past girlfriends—or anyone, for that matter—what had happened. No one cared. No one wanted to be in my corner like Stella wants to be. “You can’t say that.”
“Yes, I can,” she says simply, and I almost believe her. “Those demons, your past, they don’t need you. They don’t deserve you. We need you. Now. Me. Us. This, Wes.”
Fuck, my stomach hurts as I nod, agreeing with her. I don’t want them to have any hold on me, but I haven’t conquered not giving in to the fear of my past yet. I can’t speak; my heart is pounding too hard, and I think she knows this.
“Okay, let’s start with something easy. Can you tell me how it went with Aiden?”
I sigh, cupping our hands in my other hand. Her thumb moves along the back of my hand, and I want to curl up in a ball so she can hold me. It’s so silly, such a silly thought. But I want it. I crave it. I want to feel safe. I clear my throat. “It went way better than I thought. He was shocked, of course, and I told him about what happened last night.”
Her eyes widen. “You did? Was he upset?”
“Told me he’d let Emery kill me if I ever grab you in a way you wouldn’t want ever again.”
“That’s the thing, I wanted it. I misread the situation, which is why it was all so confusing to me.”
“I know,” I say softly. “I didn’t want you to say anything else.” I feel like I keep swallowing, trying to get past the lump in my throat, but it isn’t moving. “He said he couldn’t pick a better man for his sister. That he trusted me, loved me.”
Her lips curve up. “Man, that’s all Shelli. She has whipped him into shape.” We share a smile, her laughter running down my spine. In a really good way. “He’s right, you know.”
I grimace. “Eh, I don’t know. I want to be—”
“You are,” she insists, and I want to feel the way she does. I think I do, though. Like, I feel it deep inside. I know it’s there, but above it is all the shit I’ve been through. I’ve done really well breaking down the layers of my abuse. And telling Aiden like I did was huge. I never thought I could tell my best friend. I really thought I’d tell Stella before him. The proof is in the pudding. I’m taking all the right steps, and I just have to tell her.
I run my hands down my face, exhaling heavily as her hands stay on my thigh. “You don’t have to tell me, Wes. You don’t owe me anything.”
“But I do,” I say sternly. “If I want us to work, you have to know what triggers me. How and why I sometimes shut down. And why, sometimes, I don’t know how to come out of it.”
I can do this.
As if she is reading my mind, she says, “You can do this. I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.”
I open my eyes, meeting her gaze, and her eyes are so fucking kind. So supportive. I feel like she’s looking at the real me.
“Your past doesn’t need you. Your present needs you, Wes. Let me in so I can understand, and I can be in the present with you and know your past. So we can move forward…if that makes sense.”
“It does,” I say, but I’m still struggling. Her words mean so much to me, but my past is so fucking heavy.
When she reaches for me, I’m confused, until she pulls me in and hugs me tightly. I love her hugs. I nuzzle my nose in her neck, kissing her tenderly. She kisses the side of my cheek, holding me tight. We stay like that for a long time. I don’t know how many minutes pass, but I realize very quickly that I’ve needed a hug all day. I don’t want to be corny and say her arms give me strength, but they urge me on. It’s actually the belief she has in me that has me sighing deeply.
Still in her arms, I start talking. “My stepmom started molesting me when I was thirteen.”
I swear I feel her heart stop. She nuzzles her cheek closer to mine, kissing my cheek. “Oh my. Wes, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, and then I blow out a breath. “She came into my life when I was eleven, a couple years after I lost my mom. My dad dated her for about three months before he married her. No one agreed with it because it all seemed so fast. So not only did I lose my mom, but I lost my dad’s extended family. My mom didn’t have any family, so I was pretty much alone once she, Sandi, came into the house.”
Stella doesn’t say anything, and I’m unsure if she’s even breathing. She gives me the time I need. Just holding me and brushing her fingers along the back of my biceps.
“At first, she was overly nice, super attentive, and always doing things for me. She would tell me how she always wanted a son and how I was the most perfect version of my father. Even though, my whole life, I was told I was the spitting image of my mom. I was very hesitant about her because I didn’t like her vibe and she wasn’t my mom. I wanted my mom, not this woman who my dad was convinced would be a great replacement. My dad worked a lot. He was a truck driver and only home for like forty-eight hours on the weekend. I would be up his ass once he would come home because I just needed to get away from Sandi, but then she would fight me for his attention too. That’s when she started to verbally abuse me.”
“Did you tell your dad?”
“I did. I told him that she was so mean to me and always calling me names. Saying that she hated me and that he hated me. He told me to stop making things up and to stop trying to break up our family. It was awful. I couldn’t reach out to anyone because my dad told them to stay away, and he even went as far as to change our number. My grandparents didn’t have cell phones, and I hadn’t memorized their home number, so I was kind of fucked.”
“Completely isolated.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” I say, shaking my head. “I was homeschooled because my travel team was so demanding. I would skate once in the morning and then have practice at night, and we’d do school at the rink. It was awesome because I wasn’t home. But when I was, and Sandi was screaming at me, she’d tell me that if I talked back or called my dad, she wouldn’t take me to the next practice. She’d tell me my dad hated me and that he was going to stop paying for my hockey since I was so awful to her. She always made it about her. She was the victim. Crazy bitch.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” she says, and I feel her leg start to bounce. Something I notice she does when she gets overwhelmed. I almost want to stop, but the strokes of her hand haven’t quit. They urge me to go on; they remind me I’m safe.
“Yeah. I’ve learned that no matter how much I hate her, it still won’t erase what she did to me.” I lick my lips, leaning into her. “If this is too much, tell me.”
“Wes, this is your truth. I want whatever you want to give me.”
My heart jumps into my throat and then plummets back down into my gut like a ton of bricks. “Sandi started to touch me inappropriately out of nowhere one day. She had never done any light touching, or grooming, as they call it. She was mean to me, very demeaning, and then one day, I came out of the shower, and she just grabbed me, started to rub me. I was so confused. It was wrong, so I hit the ground, trying to keep her off me. She held me down by the back of my neck and sodomized me with her fingers.”
I feel wetness on my cheek, and my stomach starts to ache. I should stop, I know I should, but Stella doesn’t know it all. “She continued to do it to me for three years. I would scream, trying to fight her, but she was so much bigger than me, weight-wise. She would tell me if I told anyone, she would keep me from the rink and tell my dad that I raped her, that I wanted her, and he would believe her because she was an adult.”
“How’d it stop?” she whispers. “Please tell me she’s in jail, rotting and getting sodomized by other inmates.”
“I told my best friend at the time. Only that she was touching me, not all of it, and he told his mom. Cathy went to bat for me. Got me out of the house, and when I was in foster care, she fought to adopt me. She was amazing and a godsend. I believe my mom sent her to save me.”
“I’m so glad you told your friend.”
“Well…” I say softly. “It wasn’t the best choice because he was young and so competitive. Any time his mom would give me attention, he’d say it was because I had sex with my stepmom, but it wasn’t true. She never forced me to have sex with her. I wouldn’t let her.” I feel her swallow hard against my neck, and I wrap my arms tighter around her. “I had minimal contact with my dad because he didn’t believe it was true. Called me a liar, a jealous kid who wanted Sandi gone, and all that kind of stuff. When the charges were filed, my lawyer said they needed me on the stand or Sandi would get off since there was no evidence of the abuse. Even though everyone knew it was true because of how fucked up I was. I was scared, but I wanted her to pay for what she did to me, so I agreed. But then my dad begged me not to. Told me I didn’t need to because Sandi would plead guilty and go to jail. I shouldn’t have to sit up there and retell everything. It would only hurt me more.”
When her breath catches, I close my eyes. “He lied, didn’t he?” she asks.
“He did, and I had no clue until the end.” Her tears run down over my cheek and my jaw as she kisses me softly. “Thankfully, I was in Cathy’s custody, so I didn’t have to have any contact with either of them, but that didn’t mean they left me alone. They’d show up to my games, and Cathy would lose her shit. She didn’t want to uproot her family, so I had to deal, but the first team that came sniffing around, I signed with. I didn’t care. I needed out.”
“And even with all that hell, that trauma, that abuse—here you are. Do you realize how incredible that is, Wes?”
“I’m a train wreck.”
“No, you’re not. You’re here. You’re fighting.”
I smile against her cheek, feeling so much relief. Like a ton of bricks has been lifted off my chest. I have no more secrets; I’m not lying to anyone. This is me. “Here I am.”
She pulls back then, her eyes full of tears, dripping over the edge of her lashes and down her sweet face. She cups my cheek, rubbing my bottom lip with her thumb as her eyes burn into mine. With a shaky voice and a proud smile on her face, she says, “A survivor.”
My heart almost can’t handle her proclamation. A survivor? I’ve never considered myself that. As I gaze into her eyes, I feel so free, but something is weighing me down. “Does this change things between us?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely not. It only makes me prouder to be yours.”
“I’m still healing.”
“And I want to be there for you.”
“Are you sure?”
Her eyes are so determined, so perfectly kind. “I’ve never been so sure about something in my life.”
And right then, I know I’ll never love anyone the way I love Stella Brooks.