His Gold ✓

22| Perfect partner

"My dad did!"

The hair on the back of my neck stands just for me to say something like that aloud. I can't believe I just did.

"My dad- he liked to see others in pain." I explain to Bryce with a shudder.

He straightens, and I feel that along with his concerned gaze resting on me. "Really?" He asks.

"My story starts with him." I nod.

My story... I take a deep breath.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," Bryce  makes sure to interject. I shake my head.

Who am I kidding? I need to get this off my chest. And it needs to be Bryce that hears it.

"Ace- he still has nightmares. My mom- she cries in her solitude. And I- I push it all away." I admit that's easier than to move past it.

Now I'm doing the opposite.

"Caroline, what happened?" Bryce whispers to me, "what happened that you have to forget?"

Oh? Forget? I can never forget.

I meet his gaze in the quickly-consuming darkness. He looks worried, concerned, frightened, all in one. "My dad was cruel, Bryce. He-he started with my mom. And then, he started towards me. And towards Ace."

"Started what?" Bryce's brows furrow, "did he- did he hit you, Caroline?"

Did he hit me?

It looks as if he already knows the answer to his own question.

    You could call it that.

Bryce watches me through his dark lashes. I pull my hair to one side of my head- exposing my neck to him. Without a word, I grab his hand, and touch a familiar spot beneath my ear. Bryce's fingertips brush against a scar there.

I grit my teeth when he's not looking at my face, to keep from shivering. I release his hand, but he doesn't move it away.

"How did you get that?" His voice catches in his chest. "What did he-"

"Glass shard." I swallow, recalling events for the first time in years, "he didn't mean to cut me- his uh, his bottle shattered."

     Bryce brushes the spot slowly, feeling in the darkness. Now I shiver, not used to touch on such a tender place on my skin. Bryce steadies me with his other hand.

"My dad got drunk, a lot." My voice trails away as I focus on what Bryce is doing. He shifts to cup my face with his hands, his thumb brushes my cheek.

"Please tell me that's the only scar."

I instinctively touch the raised bit of skin there.

"Yeah," I whisper, "the only one on the outside." I twist my hair back into place, Bryce slowly releases my face.

    "My dad's brother got shot when I was little. They were officers together. After his brother died in front of him, he started drinking, heavily. I like to think that's why he..." I can't keep talking about him without taking a deep breath.

"And he took it out on you?" I hear Bryce's gentle question.

"on my mom," I bite my lip, my eyes are stinging again, "and then one day she wasn't around- and I was the next target."

It seems like so long ago.

I blink a tear from my eye. Great. Crying again. I push the tear from my cheek. Around my waist I feel Bryce's arms. He pulls me to his chest, his large hand running gently over my back.