The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (112 page)

“
Did she
—
did she
—”
I can tell that Avery is trying to hold back her tears; she can barely get her sentence out as she works to keep herself together.
“—
touch you?
”

“
No,
”
I state matter-of-factly.
“
Never.
”

“
How
—
how long?
”

“
Two years. In another town with another babysitter, I realized that I didn
’
t have to do anything to make the new woman stay. But, Avery, that
’
s not the same thing as consensual sex.
”

“
No, it
’
s not
—
but love,
that
’
s
it. Oh, my gosh.
That
’
s
it.
”

Sonny, my tender-hearted Sonny. Good Lord
—
no wonder he despises his mother. She didn
’
t just leave him with an alcoholic father, she left him to be sexually abused. At FIVE! I could ring Sharon
’
s neck. I really could. What kind of woman does that to a motherless child? I hate her.

“
I hate her,
”
I mutter as the tears I
’
ve been holding back fall from my eyes. I don
’
t think I have a right to cry in this moment. Not really.
He
’
s
the one with the traumatic past;
he
’
s
the one who was practically forced to tell his girlfriend about something he clearly hates talking about;
he
’
s
the one who has to deal with the repercussions of his childhood even
now
—
seventeen years later.
He
’
s
the one who should be crying
—
but instead he
’
s wiping away
my
tears. I can
’
t help it, though; it breaks my heart that anyone would do that to
any
child
—
but knowing that someone did that to Sonny? My Sonny?
Ugh. I hate her.

“
It kills me when you cry for me. You shouldn
’
t have to carry the weight of my past.
”

“
Neither should
you
, love. I
’
m sorry
—
I
’
m sorry for crying. I
’
m sorry you had to go through that. I
’
m sorry that I can
’
t possibly understand
—”

“
Hey, hey, hey, stop.
”
He shushes me and then kisses my forehead as he slides his hands around the back of my neck.
“
You have nothing to apologize for, so stop it. I
’
m okay. I got through it. I
’
m here.
”

“
But Sonny, you
’
re not okay,
”
I hiccup as I try and calm down.
“
You
’
re strong and resilient and determined and sweet and loving and
amazing
—
but you
’
re not okay. It
’
s not your fault and I know that now but
—
if you don
’
t deal with this, you, me, and sex will never be all that we
’
re supposed to be.
”

“
Deal with it? Ave, I
’
ve buried the Sharon thing. I don
’
t think about it at all, anymore. I won
’
t push you again, I swear.
”

“
This is not about me.
”
I wrap my arms around his neck and slip my fingers into his hair, needing to be closer to him. I look into my favorite pair of brilliant green eyes and I thank the Lord for them, and the man who wears them flawlessly.
“
Sonny, I think you should see someone. I think you should talk to a counselor. There are so many things that you
’
ve been through that prevent you from being wholly yourself, free of the bondage that is your past.
”

He arches an eyebrow at me in amused defiance.
“
You want me to see a shrink?
”

“
A counselor. Honestly, Sonny, I think it would be so good for you. Don
’
t believe all the crazy things you see on television
—
a counselor is just someone you can talk to; someone who can help you sort through the messy parts of yourself so that you can move on
—
really
move on.
”

He furrows his brow, obviously uncertain, but aware that I
’
m being serious.
“
Why can
’
t I just talk to you?
”

I can
’
t help but laugh, which seems to confuse him further. I press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away to answer him.
“
Hottie, we
’
re not very good at that sometimes. Besides, I
’
m not objective. I love you too much. Just
—
promise me you
’
ll at least give it a try? I can help you find someone. I
’
ll even come with you, if you want.
”

“
For you,
”
he says after a pause.
“
I
’
ll go for you.
”

Admittedly, not exactly the response I was looking for
—
as I
’
d like him to go for
himself
—
but I
’
ll take it. Hopefully somewhere along the way, he
’
ll take ownership and understand that it was a good move for him to make for the both of us.

“
So
—
should we talk about you getting drunk last night?
”

“
It won
’
t happen again,
”
he states matter-of-factly.
“
And I
’
ll say this much
—
it wasn
’
t worth it. I thought I had lost you and it hurt like hell. I drank to forget, but I didn
’
t forget; I only thought of you more.
”

I reposition myself in his lap, so that my legs are both stretched out toward the foot of the bed, and rest my head against his shoulder. He holds me and props his chin on top of my head.
“
I know we
’
ve said this before, but we can
’
t give each other the silent treatment. It makes both of us do crazy things.
”

“
You
’
re right. I
—
wait, what crazy thing did you do?
”

I
’
m distracted away from his question when I notice a black spot on his arm, peeking out from underneath his short sleeve t-shirt. I reach out and rub my thumb across his skin and he flinches at my touch. I pull away from him, just enough to showcase my bewilderment.
“
I thought you said you showered. Looks like you missed a spot
—
did you let someone write on you last night? What kind of party was that, anyway?
”

“
I got this
before
the party,
”
he informs me, pulling up his sleeve to reveal the entirety of his inked skin.

My mouth falls open as I look from his face to the inside of his upper left arm, back at his face, and then again at his arm.
“
Is that a
tattoo?
!
”

“
Yes.
”
I can
hear
the smile on his face.

“
You never told me you were thinking about getting a tattoo!
”
He shrugs and I reach out to gently run my fingers across his newly scarred skin.

“
Jack got some new ink last night at Trevor
’
s place; I decided I wanted some, too.
”

I can
’
t stop staring. It
’
s five words written in a font that looks to be a mix between cursive and print
—
neat but decisively imperfect. The words are stacked on top of each other, descending down the width of his impressive bicep.

“
What does it mean?
”
I ask, willing myself to look away from the ink so that I can see his face. He doesn
’
t answer me with words. Instead, he brings his opposing hand up to cover a portion of the tattoo. My eyes follow his and then I see it; the first letter of every word reveals it
s
own word: A-V-E-R-Y. I gasp, pulling his long fingers away so that I can rub my hand over the letters.
“
You got my
name
tattooed on your arm? Are you sure this won
’
t come off?
”
I ask frantically.

“
Ouch, stop,
”
he insists, snatching both of my hands into his.
“
No, it won
’
t come off, you goof. I don
’
t want it to.
”

“
So, wait
—”
I shake my head to scatter my thoughts so that I might piece them back together in a way that makes sense.
“
You got that sober? When you thought that I might break up with you?
”
He nods his response and I
’
m appalled at his nonchalance.
“
But
—
why?
”