Page 37 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Chance nods. “The Doves. I never got involved in the worst parts, but I saw enough.” His jaw tightens. “My father, on the other hand—” He lets out a sharp breath. “He’s a Captain in the Black Crows. He’s also a Captain of the police precinct that serves our streets.”

My brows furrow. “He’s breaking the law while enforcing it?”

Chance scoffs. “More like he uses his position to not enforce the law.”

Understanding dawns, and my stomach turns. “Didn’t he want you to join the Black Crows?”

“He did.” Chance pulls his lower lip inward, worrying it between his teeth. “It was expected of me. But even if I weren’t disgusted by everything they stood for, I’d never have joined—not if he was involved.”

I study his face. “You hate him that much, huh?”

Chance swings his legs over the wall, turning to face the ocean and I follow.

“My father is not a good man,” he says after a long pause. “He terrorized and beat my mother for most of my childhood—until I was big enough to take him on.”

I inhale a sharp breath, the weight of his words sinking in. I can’t imagine anyone laying a hand onMa . My fists clench instinctively, the urge to hit something burning through me. Instead, I shift slightly, bumping my shoulder against his. Just enough to let him know I’m here.

“I’m so sorry, Chance,” I say quietly. “I’m glad she has you.”

“That’s why I had to join The Doves,” Chance says, his voice steadier now.

“They offered to protect us both. Plus, although they got their hands dirty in shady business dealings, they had rules that were important to me. No innocents, no drug trade, no trafficking. I mostly ran money and collected from businesses that were under their protection. Sometimes, I’d do overnights, just sitting in Murph’s car, watching a shop for the owner. ”

“Murph?” I ask, a strange feeling settling in my gut.

Chance huffs out a small laugh, flashing me a crooked smile. “My best friend back home. He was in The Doves with me. Still is.”

“Oh,” I say, but the weird feeling lingers, pressing down on my chest.

Chance’s grin turns downright wicked. “I never touched him, Beautiful. Don’t worry. He’s straight. I think.”

I just sit there, jaw slightly tensed, staring at him.

Chance laughs softly, shaking his head. “Relax. Murph’s like a brother.He’s just… Murph.”

I roll my eyes but can’t stop the smile that escapes my lips.

His expression sobers slightly. “Anyway, I didn’t want to leave her, but she finally wore me down. It’s been years since he’s even raised his voice at her—at least not in my presence. The Doves promised to keep an eye on her, and Murph texts me updates.”

A pang of guilt washes over me. I reach out, turning his shoulder slightly so he can see my face. “I’m glad you have him, Chance.”

He grips my jaw gently, his thumb resting lightly on my chin. “Thank you, Ant. For everything.” His voice softens as his gaze searches mine. “I feel like my chest is cracked open here. I know it’s a lot to ask, but… do you feel comfortable sharing what your nightmares are about?”

My heartbeat stumbles. And yet… for the first time in my life, I do want to talk about it.

I haul in a deep breath of fresh sea air. “I don’t know what it is about you, Chance Sullivan, but yeah, I do.” I pause, glancing out toward the ocean. “Can we walk along the water? I think it’ll make it easier.”

He cups my face, then trails his thumb down to my lower lip, brushing over it lightly.

I forget how to breathe.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s a great idea.”

We trek down to the shoreline, slide off our shoes and socks to carry, then cuff our jeans. We start walking along the shore, the sand cool beneath our feet as the waves roll in and retreat. I keep my eyes on the horizon, letting the vastness of the ocean anchor me as I search for the words.

I clear my throat, then hesitate.

“Just… tell me whatever you’re comfortable with right now,” Chance says, his voice offering the steadiness I need. “You don’t have to lay it all out at once.”

I nod, swallowing over the lump in my throat.

I can do this. I need to do this.

“Well,” I begin, shaky but determined, “it’s not a unique story. Boy raised in a strict Catholic family. Boy sent to a Catholic school run by nuns and priests. Boy catches the eye of a priest.”

I force myself to meet his gaze.

“You know the rest.”

Chance nods but stays silent, giving me space to continue.

“Except, in my case,” I choke out, “it wasn’t just one priest. It was a whole…

operation they had going. Sometimes it was one of them.

Other times, it was several. I don’t know how many other boys they were doing this to, but I know I was their favorite.

” I force out an awkward laugh, bitter and dry.

“The nightmares always center around the times it was several of them taking turns.”

Chance inhales sharply, his jaw flexing. Even from the corner of my eye, I can see the way he’s struggling to hold back his reaction.

My breathing picks up, and my chest constricts as the memories creep closer, threatening to choke me.

“It went on for three years,” I murmur. “Three years of hell. And it wasn’t just the abuse.

It was the threats. The constant fear. They told me if I ever said anything, they’d kill me.

Kill my family. And they did things to make sure I believed them. ”

I pause, my throat fighting to close as my body resists the words clawing their way out. “They even made a violent attempt to prove a point. That’s why my leg—”

A sudden noise behind us makes me tense. My body locks up, and I spin around just in time to see the culprit—a seagull—flap its wings and fly off.

I let out a small, shaky laugh, turning back to Chance. My hand grips his arm, seeking something—stability, safety… him.

That’s when I see them.

The tears.

They’re spilling silently down his face, his bright blue eyes filled with something raw, something devastating.

I stare, stunned into silence. No one has ever seen me before. Not like this. Not the parts I keep locked away, hidden behind walls—walls built by necessity with bricks of pain and shame.

He sees it all.

And he’s crying. For me.

“Chance,” I breathe, shaking my head as my grip on his arm tightens. “What are you—”

“I’m so sorry, Beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you. And that I wasn’t there to—”

I don’t even think about it… I just pull him in.

My arms wrap around his shoulders, and I press my face into the crook of his neck. For the first time between us, I’m the one offering comfort. I welcome it.

“Hey,” I murmur, squeezing him tight. “You need to stop feeling guilty for things out of your control. You’re a good man, Chance. And we’re all lucky to have you in our lives.”

He shakes his head against my shoulder, his fingers gripping my shirt. “I just—fuck, Ant—”

I pull back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, and attempt to lighten the mood. “Besides, I’m the one who’s supposed to be bawling right now. This is my trauma dump.”

A shaky laugh bursts from him, and the tension in his shoulders finally loosens.

We start walking again, slower this time, side by side. Walking along the shore of an ocean of emotions, waves of security crashing around me, I don’t think—I just act. As natural as breathing, I reach down between us, take his hand, and link our fingers together.

It’s a small thing.

But for me, it feelshuge.

Chance glances down at our joined hands, then back up at me, his expression unreadable.

“My heart, Beautiful,” he murmurs.

“What about it?” I ask softly.

“I may have been born with it beating in my chest,” he says, thumb grazing over my knuckles, “but it never really belonged to me.”

And then, softly, gently, he lifts our joined hands to his lips and presses the lightest kiss against my skin.

I feel that kiss everywhere.

It sparks something inside me. Something deep, somethingundeniable.

I think of my firsts. The ones that were taken. The ones I never got to choose.

“I’ve never been kissed.” I blurt out.

Chance stops abruptly, dropping my hand.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna need you to repeat that. Slowly. ”

A nervous laugh escapes me. “I’ve, uh… never been kissed.”

His stare sears into me, disbelief flickering behind those electric blue eyes. “Are youseriousright now?”

I nod, clearing my throat. “What they did to me was everything you’d imagine… all the horrible things that happen in those situations. But of all the vile things they did,kissingwas never one of them.”

Chance’s whole body tenses.

I press forward.

“I’ve always been grateful they never did,” I tell him. “That it was the one thing they left for me to claim as my own.”

His gaze flickers to my lips, and yeah, I really want him to look.

I sigh, pushing forward. “The problem is that the abuse left me confused about my sexuality. When puberty hit and I realized my eyes were tracking boys instead of girls, all those dark memories came flooding back. I convinced myself they had made that choice for me. That they broke me.”

I take a deep breath. “And I was successful in mostly burying any kind of attraction. That is… until you walked intoDevil Records . ”

Chance’s chest rises and falls noticeably, but I keep going.

“Thinking back, I’m pretty sure I realizedright thenthat yeah… I’m gay as fuck.”

Chance lets out a sharp, startled laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus, Ant.”

I smirk. “Or maybe I’m just Chansexual. ”

“You’re killing me.”

I grin, but then my smile sobers just slightly. “What I’m saying, Chance, is that it’s going to take me some time to experienceeverythingsexual again as something that ismy choice . ” I meet his gaze, unwavering. “Last night at the club? That was my choice. And it was perfect. Incredible.”

Chance’s expression softens, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Ant—”

I step closer. “You are the person I want to give the most important first they didn’t take from me,” I say, voice steady, sure. “You’re going to be my first kiss, Chance Sullivan. But I need a little time, if that’s okay.”

He stares at me for a long beat before grabbing his chest like he’s beenshotand dramatically flopping onto his back in the sand.

I laugh, reaching down to offer him a hand. “Come on, drama queen.”

He grins, brushing himself off. Before I can overthink it, I reach out with one hand and swipe the sand off his ass, letting my palm linger on one of his perfect globes. Then, just to be thorough, I give the tiniest, gentlest squeeze.

He glances back over his shoulder and raises a brow.

I shrug. “Had to kick the tires if I’m gonna buy the rig.”

And damn, what a rig it is.

I jog ahead of him, turn around, and shout, “Race you to our room! I wanna go to dinner!”

Chance just stands there; jaw dropped.

Oh yeah.

The first few bricks are crumbling from my walls, and the new me is peeking out, ready to play.