His Gymnast (Dance For Me Book 3) by Darcy Rose & BL Mute

Author:Darcy Rose & BL Mute [Rose , Darcy & Mute , BL]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bleeding Heart Press
Published: 2021-07-13T23:00:00+00:00

9

Aria

This is so bizarre. It’s almost normal, sitting and drinking coffee in the kitchen, with the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. It couldn’t be any more idyllic if a big golden retriever came galloping into the room, or maybe a little kid or two.

Wow. That is the opposite of the sort of thing I need to be thinking about when I’m around him.

What’s even stranger is how relaxed Knox seems now, so unlike the man I first met, the man who kicked the door in to save me last night. I think I even see something resembling a smile when he meets my gaze over the rim of his coffee cup.

I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m the reason for this change, like making him come last night turned him into a puppy dog content to eat from my hand. He’s different for sure, though. Like there are two sides to him. I’ve already seen one side. I think I like this one better.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, dragging me out of my thoughts.

“Very well. I was exhausted, and I don’t usually get a lot of sleep.”

“How come?”

Before I can think about what I’m saying, the words come out. “For one thing, there was only a cot in the basement—”

“They made you sleep in the basement?” He sounds beyond incredulous. The old shame threatens to wash over me, but I won’t let it. There’s nothing to be ashamed of unless I decide there is, and I’m tired of that. I’m tired of not being in control.

“Yes, they decided I wasn’t worth having my own bedroom. It all started when I got hurt. You know, back when I was doing gymnastics. The medical bills were astronomical. Things got really bad because of that.”

“But they were supposed to be your parents. So, what? They used that as an excuse to treat you like shit? Like you were a slave or something?” The disgust and horror in his voice strike me as almost funny, considering what he’s capable of. If he’s this stunned, maybe things were even worse than I realized. Like a frog in a pot of water, that whole thing. Raise the temperature one degree at a time and they don’t realize they’re being boiled alive because they’re used to it by then.

I got used to being treated the way I was. They wore me down enough over time that I didn’t bother trying to fight back anymore.

“I guess they thought they had the right. I don’t know. I can’t imagine because I can’t make myself think the way they did.”

“Trust me. I’m capable of a lot of things.” Yes, I’ve seen that for myself. “And even I know that’s fucked up. I should’ve finished the job.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. I settle for sipping my coffee, grateful he broke into the house when he did. That I mustered up the courage to approach him in the first place.

Suddenly, he checks his phone and stands.

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