Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Even though we didn’t have anyone else, we coulda had each other. I woulda done anythin’ fer that woman. I saw strength in her I haven’t even seen in myself. Deep down, I always wondered if she only stayed because she knew we needed a roof over our heads. Or mine. She woulda given me the food off her plate if she knew I was hungry. And that’s what the bastard saw in her, the softness. And that’s what I see in Clover.
Instead of wantin’ to take advantage of it, I want to hold it tight. Nurture it. I’m a brute on the best of days, but with the woman before me, I want to lie back and have her take control. I want to soften myself just to make her feel at ease.
“Sully, seriously, you cannot sit here outside my door.”
Her voice drags me back to the present and I realise she’s still glarin’ at me. Her mouth pursed into a pout, and for a moment, I wonder what she tastes like.
I wish I knew the arsehole who’d done this to her. He can try his shite on me. I’d welcome it. Because if he did, I’d make sure he felt every feckin’ bone in his body break. Then, I’d slowly cut him from forehead to chin and listen to his feckin’ squeals. I’d feck him up. I’d revel in his blood on my hands.
I finally look at her directly. My dark eyes keep those gentle, green ones hostage. “I can and I will sit here until you talk ta me.”
“I can’t talk about what happened.” She sighs, leanin’ on the doorframe, then quickly moves away with a flinch when the hard surface presses against yet another wound I can’t see.
“Okay, tell me about you.” I change the subject. “What’s yer favourite colour?”
She snaps her gaze to me, then smiles. It’s a small gesture with her lips curlin’ upward, and I feel like I’m on top of the feckin’ world when I realise I’m the fecker who made her smile.
“Blue,” she tells me, settlin’ herself on the threshold of the room.
“What’s your favourite food?”
She looks away, usin’ her finger to scratch at the doorframe, rippin’ at the peelin’ paint. Her focus is on that while she ponders my question, then she smiles again.
“Burgers. Like with real cheese. Saucy ones that drip down your chin when you bite into them.” This time, there’s a laugh. A soft, sweet melody.
“Sounds like my kinda food,” I affirm proudly as I regard her. “How old are ye?”
Her head drops back slowly, leanin’ against the frame, her eyes on the ceilin’. I don’t expect her to respond, but she does. “Twenty-five,” she tells me with sadness drippin’ off the words.
“I’m thirty-six,” I offer a bit of myself.
She side-eyes me with the corner of her mouth tippin’ upward. “You’re old.”
“Easy, sweetheart,” I admonish her teasing, but I chuckle because my chest feels light, as if all the shit I’ve done, all the darkness in my life, is gone, just for a moment in time. “You know, my ma told me somethin’ once.”
I’m lost to the memories as I recall the moments I didn’t have to watch Ma takin’ shite from her feckin’ boyfriend. It wasn’t often, because he was there all the time. Always watchin’ her. Makin’ sure she wasn’t running around as he liked to believe. I can’t look at Clover as I speak, though. It’s my turn to look away. Thinkin’ about Ma still hurts. I inhale a deep breath to keep my emotions from showing.
“It doesn’t matter what ye go through in life, sweetheart. As long as ye take time to breathe each day, that’s more than anyone can ask of ye.”
FIVE
CLOVER
I’m not sure what to say to him, because it feels as if he’s just punched me in the gut. All these years, I’ve believed I deserved what happened to me. I was controlled by a man who told me I was worthless. I was beaten, bruised, and tormented, but here’s a man who’s sitting in ripped jeans, a torn wife-beater, and ink all over his body, even on the side of his neck, but he’s uttering sweet words.
His long hair seems to shimmer in the light coming from the overhead lamps. Another thunderclap sounds, causing me to jump. I wish I enjoyed storms. I want to dance in the rain one day, but now all I can think about is the past. The stormy night that caused me to end up in the hospital.
I haven’t thought about it until today. After it happened, I buried it deep because the memory was nothing short of horrific, so instead of facing it, I pushed it away. It was the only way I could survive through those long days after. The nightmares still lingered, but slowly, as I forced myself to move on from it, I was able to live normally. At least, that’s what it looked like to the outside world.