Page 97 of Beauty & Chaos

“She was your nanny?” My brows lift.

Travis nods. “Yes. For ten years. She saved my life.”

I glance away as things start to click into place. She isn’t his real mother, but the woman who likely raised him while being employed. To him, she’ll be his North Star. The only family he has.

“One night, my father returned home from a party, and there was no one with him. I closed my eyes and immediately fell back asleep.” His jaw muscles twitch as he averts his eyes. “Then I heard the click of my door opening. A sound I came to fear and subsequently need to deal with for the rest of my life.”

PTSD.

Tears fill my eyes, my hand covering my mouth as he looks across my apartment. I know he’s gone into his memories, and I fight to stop the sound of my distress.

How horrific.

No child should feel unsafe in their bed.

No child shouldbeunsafe in their own home.

“The first night.” Travis glances back at me, looking as if he needs me to understand everything. “I thought he was coming to say goodnight. He wasn’t.”

“Oh Travis.” My hand reaches for his thigh.

He doesn’t respond.

“He touched me, Brook.” Pale, his eyes dead, almost like he’s that little boy again. “He took my cock and made me touch his.”

Tears pour down my cheeks as I fight the churn in my stomach.

“The hardest part was waiting. Every time he went out, I never knew if he’d have company or come to my room.” Travis rubs a hand over his face.

I can’t bear it. My face drops, tears fall between my crossed legs, and a loud sob escapes me.

He keeps going.

“He taught me how to please him. Then when I was bigger and stronger, as he’d call it, he then took pleasure from me.”

I want to throw up. My hand tightens around his thigh, but I feel like I’m hanging onto him for dear life. Not comforting him.

“I was terrified to tell anyone. Leo was celebrated and loved by fans around the world. He’d told me I’d be punished, and that people would hate me. That this is what children did. I believed him.”

“Jesus,” I say softly.

His arm moves, and he drops his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands for a moment. I’m heartbroken for the child hewas. For the boy he will never be because of what was taken from him.

Rubbing his face, he straightens and glides a hand through his hair, visibly impacted by sharing.

“Are you okay?” I lay my hand on his arm.

“Sorry. I’ve only ever shared this with my friends.” His voice is rough.

“You can stop if you want.”

“No. I need you to know who I am, Brook.” His eyes meet mine, and there is pain and determination in them.

“It’s not who you are, Travis. It’s what happened to you,” I say, shaking my head as I wipe away the tears.

I’ve always said your past doesn’t define you, but then again, I’ve never been through anything like he has. And that Taylor got away with it makes me angry and sick.

“That’s not true. From the age of five through to ten he fucked me in the ass at least every week. I was his little slut. I was used like a sex toy and groomed to do his bidding.” He shakes his head, glancing away. “That is who I was. That was what I had to run away from. Physically and in every way possible.”