Chapter 131 The past had secrets
The silence in the room wasn't just an absence of sound; it was a physical weight, pressing against my chest until I felt I might bruise. I looked between Aiden and my father—two men who had clearly spent years carrying a secret that was now unraveling my entire world.
"What do you mean, what he’s survived? Dad, what do you know about Greyson’s past?" My voice sounded thin, like paper tearing.
My father’s expression grew grave, the lines around his eyes deepening as if the mere memory of the truth took a physical toll on him. He set his glass down with a precise, heavy click. "More than I wish I did, sweetheart. Greyson and I... we’ve known each other for a long time. Since he was much younger. Before the world knew him as the man he is now."
"What kind of wounds?" I pressed. I needed details. I needed to understand why the man I loved had flinched when I touched him, why his eyes sometimes went vacant as if he were staring into a void I couldn't see. My heart was racing, a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"The kind that make physical intimacy complicated," my father said quietly, his voice heavy with a dark knowledge. "The kind that can make a man feel like he’s losing control even in moments that should bring pleasure. Cassie, there are things about Greyson’s childhood... things that were done to him by people who were supposed to protect him."
The air in the room felt suddenly cold. "Are you saying he was abused?" The words came out as barely a whisper, a horrific realization that made the room tilt on its axis.
My father and Aiden exchanged another look—that silent, masculine shorthand that told me they had discussed this many times before. It was my father who finally nodded, his jaw tight. "I’m saying that the boy I once knew went through hell, and sometimes hell leaves marks that never fully heal. Not with time, and not always with love."
"How do you know all this?" I asked, my voice shaking. "You talk about him like you were there."
"I was there when he got his revenge," my father said softly, his eyes fixed on some point in the past. "I helped him bury the man who hurt him. James Turner deserved what he got, and I have no regrets about that. I’d do it again tomorrow if I had to."
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. I stared at my father, seeing him in a completely different light. The man who had tucked me in at night, who had coached my soccer games, was a man who had helped dispose of a body. "You helped him... kill someone?"
"Turner was a monster," Aiden interjected, his voice steady but fierce. "What he did to those children... Greyson wasn't his only victim, Cassie. He was just the only one strong enough to survive it and smart enough to end it. Your father didn't just help a friend; he helped remove a cancer from the world."
I looked at them both, my mind reeling. "You knew," I said to my father, the pieces of the last few months finally clicking into a jagged, painful place. "You’ve known what Greyson went through, what he’s capable of, and you still let me get involved with him? You watched me fall in love with a man who is haunted by a ghost you helped create?"
"I tried to warn you," my father said, his voice rising in defense. "But I also know Greyson. I know that despite everything, there is a core of honor in him. But honor doesn't fix a shattered psyche, Cassie."
"I was trying to please him," I whispered, thinking back to the night before—the way I had tried to push past his boundaries, thinking I was being seductive, not realizing I was triggering a nightmare. "I was trying to show him how much I care."
"And he probably knows that," my father said gently, reaching out to touch my arm, though I pulled away. "But trauma doesn't always listen to logic. Sometimes the body remembers what the mind wants to forget. When you touch him, he might see you, but his skin remembers Turner."
Aiden reached across the table then. His hand hovered near mine for a second, a silent request for permission, before settling gently over my fingers. The gesture was intimate enough to make my father smile approvingly—a look of relief that I was being "protected" by a safe man. But as I looked at Aiden’s hand, I felt nothing beyond the hollow comfort of a long-standing friendship. There were no sparks, no desperate pull of the soul.
"The question is," Aiden said, his eyes searching mine, "what are you going to do about it? You’re walking into a storm that might never end."
"It shouldn't be her battle to fight," my father interjected, his tone shifting. He was no longer the conspirator; he was the overprotective patriarch. "Aiden here has been nothing but patient and understanding. He knows your history, he knows our family. Perhaps it’s time to consider more... stable options. Men who don't carry bodies in their past."
The implication hung in the air, thick and suffocating. I glanced at Aiden. I could see the hope he tried to keep carefully controlled, the way his shoulders squared as if ready to take on the burden of my life. He’d never pushed, never demanded more than I was willing to give, but I could see that my father’s approval was the green light he had been waiting for.
"Dad," I said quietly, my voice gaining strength as the shock began to wear off. "I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I know you love me. And I care about Aiden deeply. He’s been my rock for years."
"But your heart is already decided," Aiden finished for me. His voice was resigned, a soft exhale of a dream dying. "I can see it in your eyes when you talk about him. Even now, after hearing the worst of it, you aren't disgusted. You're just... hurting for him."
I thought about the man who’d held me so tenderly, who’d looked at me like I was something precious and rare, only to pull away in a panic. I thought about the glimpses of vulnerability he’d shown me—the way he leaned into my touch when he thought I wasn't looking.
Aiden was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, there was a sadness that made my heart ache for him. "If I loved someone who was broken like that? I’d probably do exactly what you’re doing—fight for them, even if it meant watching them choose someone else who might never be able to love them back the way they deserve. It’s a beautiful, tragic kind of loyalty, Cassie."
"Aiden..." my father started, looking disappointed.
"It’s alright," Aiden said with a rueful, bittersweet smile. "I’ve known for a while that her heart was elsewhere. I just hoped that maybe, given time and enough 'stability,' she’d choose the easy path. But Cassie never liked easy." He shrugged, standing up from the table. "But you can’t compete with someone who’s already claimed her soul, even if he doesn't know how to handle it properly."
I watched him walk toward the window, looking out at the city lights. I felt a pang of guilt, but it was overshadowed by a fierce, burning resolve. I wasn't a child to be steered toward a "stable option."
"He’ll come back," I said finally. I wasn't just telling them; I was making a vow to the universe. "He ran because he’s scared of himself, not of me."
"And when he does?" my father asked, his voice full of doubt. "When he comes back with all that darkness, what then?"
I stood up, feeling the weight of Greyson's secrets settling onto my own shoulders, and for the first time that night, I didn't feel like I was breaking. I felt like I was finally seeing the whole picture.
"When he does," I said, my voice steady and clear, "I'll be here. And I’ll keep being here until he realizes he doesn't have to bury his past alone anymore."