Page 52 of Eat Your Heart Out

28

Gerard

On a ship, dawn was fast. It was bright outside the moment the sun rose. No smog, no city lights, nothing interfered with the light.

My lips quirked higher, and my body was lighter, though it wasn’t the sun that made me happy. It was Ali next to me. I took a deep breath and stared down at her. She was sweet and innocent when she slept. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she gazed up at me.

She sighed. “It’s almost morning.”

I brushed against her soft arm. “Thank you for tonight.”

Immediately, her brow curled together, and she sat up. “Why?”

My heart raced. I hadn’t wanted to put her on guard or shut her down. “You’re starting to trust me a little.” The second the words came out of my mouth, I wished I had a better filter.

“Fuck.” She tugged the sheets higher around her.

I’d tried to be patient. “What happened?”

She curled her legs to her chest. “This isn’t supposed to be about trust.”

I kept my voice low as I said, “It’s not just sex for me.”

She wiped tears off her face. “I’m—not relationship material.”

I wished I could believe time would fix whatever was wrong, but she had a secret. “Why? Because we’re from different backgrounds?”

She closed her eyes and pressed her head to her knees. “No.”

I could tell it was hard for her to talk about, but we couldn’t move on if I didn’t understand. I turned and faced her. “What happened to you?”

She met my gaze and let out a sigh. “You don’t want to know.”

I pressed my hand on her knee, hidden under the sheets, and waited. “I want to understand why—”

“I killed my mother,” she blurted, and she blushed a deep purple.

My shoulders dropped. I wasn’t sure how to fix that. “What?”

Tears formed in her eyes, and she lowered her head. “It was raining. I took the car without permission, and I didn’t even have a license.”

My eyes widened. I focused on her sobs, though, and wanted to hug her. I stilled, trying to not frighten her. “Then how was she with you?”

She gazed at the wall and swiped her face like that might stop her crying. “I went to a party. I picked up a bottle of beer, trying to fit into a world I never should have been a part of. Some of those boys were doing drugs and getting aggressive.”

My heart raced. “And?”

She turned and faced me, her complexion white. “Then my mom found me. I was humiliated when I should have thanked her for following me. I could have been raped, but maybe that would have been better than what happened.”

No. She blamed herself. “So she drove you home?”

She shook her head. “I refused to give her the key. I jumped in the driver’s seat, and she yelled that I needed to give her the keys and stop. We wrestled for it in the driveway. I was a horrible, ungrateful child.”

I tensed at the word “child.”

She huffed. “I was so upset about what people thought about me, and I rammed us right into a big rig truck.”

The urge to hold her was immediate. “Oh my god. That’s horrible.”