Chapter 69 I love my long, thick...
LIA
Owen and I spent two hours tearing through my closet. The instruction from Beast was to dress casual. Since it’s June and he mentioned a barbecue, I picked a sundress the color of cream, covered in pink and peach flowers. It had no straps and a neckline that curved like a heart. It fit close over my chest, hugged my waist, and then flowed out from my hips to just above my knees. Owen passed me a pair of cowgirl boots, white with pink details, to match. By the time we finished, my room looked like a hurricane had hit it.
“You should leave your hair down and put a little wave at the ends,” he said, gathering clothes from the floor. “Men are crazy about long hair.”
“Why is that?”
“So they can wrap it around their hand while they take you from behind.”
“Good grief, Owen!”
“What? It’s true. I may be gay but I understand what men like, Lia.” He gave me a look. “Are you telling me Liam never fucked you that way?”
I let out a breath. “When Liam and I first started, he told me he was glad I had no experience. He said it would have been a problem if he’d had to… ‘un-whore’ me.” I made little quotation marks with my fingers. “I was going to be his wife, so we made love the way God intended. Straight missionary. We did it every Wednesday and Friday. Never on Sunday, not even for an anniversary. Never the day before Christmas, or Christmas itself. Never on Easter.”
“Wow, Lia. I take it back. I should not have asked.”
“How could you have known? I have not shared much with you. You have every right to ask anything. I called you out of nowhere, and you did not hesitate to let me stay.”
“You were my biggest supporter, Lia. You still are. You were one of three people who always stood up for me. You, Coach Jepson, and Mrs. Ashton. Everyone else called me names or pushed me around. Hell, my own parents could not accept me. So of course I would help you. I love you, girl.”
I put my hands over my face and cried. Owen dropped the clothes in his arms onto my bed and came to me, wrapping me up. He held my head against his chest and let me soak his shirt.
“That man is a monster, Lia. You deserve so much better. Any man would be lucky to have you as his wife. You are strong and smart. You are beautiful and you have a good heart.”
I wiped my eyes and made a sound that was half laugh, half sob.
“I love you too, and I love that you see me that way. But I really do not think any man would want someone as broken as I am. Why would they want to deal with this mess? The only thing I have going for me is that I can be trained. My only experience is what Liam taught me. He trained me to cook his favorite meals, to wash his shirts a certain way, to iron his pants perfectly. One time, I left a line on the pocket of his trousers. He placed my hand flat on the ironing board and put the hot iron on top of it. I was lucky it did not leave a mark. He had a doctor friend give me special cream for the burn. Liam made sure I used it every day.”
“Another time, I baked his potato too long. He made me cook potatoes, one after another, for hours. I was not allowed to sleep until one was perfect. Every single potato I made, he found something wrong with it. I think I did ten before he was satisfied. I had to do them one at a time. Believe me, after that, I never wrinkled his pants or ruined another potato. So no, I do not think I will be with a man again. Not unless I find one who can prove he loves me for who I am, not for what I can do for him. I do not want another man to control what I eat, or what I think, or who I see. And I absolutely do not want another man who thinks it is okay to put his hands on me.”
“Lia, I am so fucking sorry you lived through that. I understand why you are careful now. But you cannot throw every man into the same pile. Not all of them are abusive pieces of shit like Liam.”
“I know. I am just not sure I am ready to try again.”
“Well, honey. The way Beast was looking at you, you might not get a say. He seems like the kind of man who takes what he wants.”
“He frightens me.”
“No, his size frightens you.”
“You are right, his size does frighten me. Did you see his hands? One swing and he could end me.”
“Do not assume he hits women. That is not fair to him. You do not know him. Just talk to him. Give him a chance.”
“Well, he is going to have to try hard. I am not going to give in just because he has a handsome face.”
“Or a body that won’t quit? Did you see him in that shirt and leather vest? Good lord, that man is hot. And his backside. The way those jeans fit.”
I laughed as he brought his fingers to his lips and made a kiss, like a chef praising a perfect dish.
“You are not wrong. Okay, I am going to shower. Will you braid my hair when I am done? It can dry while I work on Mr. Morelli’s painting, and then it will be soft and wavy when I take it out. I think it will look nicer than curls, and it is easier.”
“Of course, cupcake.”
“What are you wearing? Are you going as yourself or as Misfit?”
“Myself. I do not want to shock the biker crew. I also do not want to get my ass beat. So just jeans and a nice polo.”
“I do not think they would mind. Beast said they have a gay member. I think that means his club is open-minded.”
“You are right, I forgot he said he had a friend who liked my… style. But still, I am going as myself.”
I smiled at him as he left. I took my robe from the closet and went to the bathroom. I undressed and looked at myself in the mirror while the water warmed up. My arms, my legs, my chest and back are clear. But my stomach is a different story. I ran my fingers over the scars even Owen does not know about.
A long, raised line on my left side, where Liam pushed a steak knife into me. I had burnt his steak. He slammed me onto the table, cut my shirt off with the knife, and then sliced my skin. A reminder to never do it again.
Three small, dot-like scars just above my belly button. He stabbed me with a fork three times. His dinner was not ready when he came home. He had arrived two hours early.
Five round marks like little coins on my ribs, under my right breast. Cigar burns. He just wanted to see how much pain I could take, after he drugged me one night. Then he forced himself into me from behind. He said it was my punishment for crying out when he burned me. I know I can never tell Owen about that. When he asked if Liam had ever taken me from behind, he meant one thing. He does not need to know Liam took that, too, by force.
The last scar I touched is the one I hate the most. The word MINE is carved into my skin, right above where my hips meet.
I looked at my own face in the mirror as tears rolled down. No man would want what another man has marked. I would not want to see the disgust in someone’s eyes if I ever got close to a man again. I let out a long breath and shook my head.
I shaved. I showered. I washed my hair until it was completely clean, then I conditioned it. My hair reaches my waist. If I let it grow much longer, it will be at my backside in a few months. Liam hated hair longer than his shoulders. He said it was in the way. He hated when a strand touched him in bed. He hated when I shed. He hated when I spent more time on my hair than with him. He always made me wear it up in some complicated style, or in a braid, or a ponytail. In the five months since I left, I have cared for my hair. I have made sure it is healthy and let it grow. I love my long, thick hair.
I dried off, put my robe on, took my brush and a hair tie, and went to find Owen.
“Yes, baby. I will be here when you get to town. I am not on the road until next month. I already talked to the Queens and they are covering my weekend, so I will be all yours, okay daddy?”
I smiled from his doorway, leaning against the frame.
“Yes, daddy. I will do that thing with my tongue that you love.”
My eyebrows went up. He just rolled his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and showed me he could twist it into a shape. I was impressed.
“Mmhmm, alright baby. See you in two days. Bye now.”
He hung up and sighed.
“Willis?”
“Yes. He flies in Wednesday and stays until Sunday.”
“Are you two… exclusive?”
“No. He is married.”
“What? Owen!”
“Hey, no judging. He is in the closet, obviously. And our rent is paid.”
I shook my head and held out my brush and the tie. He braided my hair and told me to go. He needed to rest before the big dinner tonight. I went back to my room, set up my easel, took out my paints, and began to sketch the outlines of the little faces blowing bubbles.