He'd held her in his arms before this, every night that she'd been here. But everything about this moment felt different. The way his hand felt caressing her bare arm, the way his heated breath felt against the top of her head, the way his other hand stroked her hair.

Hailey was in heaven. And to appreciate heaven, apparently you had to know hell.

That seemed to be Dylan's opinion, at least. "I'm about as relaxed as I've ever been in my life right now. I have no intention of getting out of this bed or getting dressed, so if you're ever going to tell me the truth about these last seven years, now would be a good time."

Hailey barely glanced up at him, fearing what he might see in her eyes. "Why does it matter so much to you?" It was a stupid question that Hailey regretted asking as soon as the words left her mouth.

But Dylan didn't see it as a stupid question, and answered her in the quiet voice she hadn't heard since they'd first been in each other's lives. "I know it's going to hurt to talk about Hailey, but now that we've opened this door, I need to know exactly what happened. There are triggers that come with mental and physical abuse, and I don't want you to suffer through them, certainly not because of me if I can help it."

That actually wasn't the answer Hailey had expected, but he made a fair point. Although she'd only left her husband two weeks prior, they'd barely had a relationship to begin with. She wasn't lying when she told him there were a lot of women who had it worse than her. Hell, plenty of people in general who had it worse than her. Hailey remembered once being bitter about his affairs, but it turned out they were more her salvation than anything. Alex sleeping with half the women in the city kept him busy and the hell away from her, mostly.

"Is there anything you'd rather not hear about?" She asked him.

Dylan shook his head above her. "There are things I don't want to hear about, but I still need to hear it all. I'm okay, Hailey. I can handle it."

He felt so strong against her, but Hailey knew that physical and mental strength were two very different things. He'd been muscular when they first met, yet inside she could see he was terrified and almost childlike in so many ways; which perhaps surprised her the most about him. He'd done the best he could to show her who he wanted her to see, but even then, she saw a sliver of the truth. He'd been someone who suffered through life and was barely hanging on.

When he'd entered her life the second time, his body was even stronger yet, his stance having almost a dominating feeling. The child trapped inside him was only noticeable if someone took the time to look deep into his eyes. He seemed somewhat sure of himself and had a sort of determination in him he hadn't had before. But again, it was just on the surface, and the qualities he tried to set forth were born purely out of desperation.

This time around, he seemed to be the man he was without the dark past holding him back. A man who once feared being touched had welcomed hers. He'd become a fighter in both life and profession; something she couldn't imagine that shy college boy doing.

Hailey sucked in a breath, and let it out nice and slow, ready to speak of all the things she'd kept hidden, just as he'd written his own truth down on paper and allowed her into the innermost parts of his soul.

"You were right," Hailey admitted. "He came from this wealthy family, and I was just the third shift server he'd set his sights on, and once we moved in together, he wanted to change all these things about me. Alex pulled it off so well, I didn't even notice. He pointed out a celebrities hairstyle to me, tell me how gorgeous I'd be with that sort of hair, then the next day he told me he booked me this appointment at this fancy salon I'd never be able to afford to go to. Just like that, my hair was different, my nails polished, my skin oil-free. I thought he was just being sweet.

"Same thing with my wardrobe. Once he noticed what my size was, he'd keep coming home with these nice designer clothes in these upscale gift bags. Once He'd casually set me up with an entire wardrobe, he declared it was spring cleaning in October, told me I had too many clothes, and it only made sense to get rid of the old stuff.

"I didn't see it then," Hailey admitted. "Truth was, I didn't even notice that part until you pointed it out to me. But that's what he was doing. He was trying to mold me into the woman he thought would be good enough to be seen with him. I was so fucking blind."

Dylan tightened his hold on her body and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "You weren't blind. You forget, I've known that guy my whole damn life, and he could sell gashed up tires for a living. If I hadn't been so terrified of everything, there was plenty of shit he would have been able to talk me into."

While it served as some mild comfort, that was all it was to Hailey. Mild. "At the wedding, he seemed so occupied with everyone else that I barely saw him. I chalked it up to seeing friends and family he rarely got to spend time with. By the time the wedding was over, he passed out drunk on the bed, and I chalked that up to the party just getting out of hand.

"Then we went on our honeymoon the next day, and I wondered if I was the problem. The first night we were there, he told me he was heading to the hotel bar. When I said that I'd join him, he told me I was acting clingy and jealous, and he wouldn't be putting up with that. We ended up missing our reservation at the restaurant, and didn't come back until nearly dawn."

There was no excuse to be made for Hailey missing that giant red flag. He'd told her that his disappearances throughout the honeymoon had been her fault, that she was smothering him. And like a fool, she actually believed him.

"The first year of marriage, everything I did was wrong. I didn't iron his shirts properly. None of the dinners I made were sophisticated enough, the house was never spotless. He told me I'd be so much prettier if I had bigger breasts, or if I put more makeup on. Whenever we went out with his friends, he'd talk about me like I wasn't even there, and how he'd married beneath him for love. Honestly, the only friends he has left anymore are ones from work, because when work is involved, he needs us to look like a happy couple.

"He made me quit my job because he was making enough at his father's company, and told me he was embarrassed to have a secretary for a wife, and it would actually look better on him if I didn't work, because then people would know that we had money. Except we didn't. He had money. He put money on a card for me every month, and told me to make it work, and if I ran out, not to come crying to him."

This wasn't a simple story to tell, but Hailey needed to do this. If not for Dylan, then for herself. Now that'd she'd started, she needed to finish. The words gave Hailey back the power Alex had ripped from her. She had her voice, and no longer had to fear using it. "One night, about a year and a half in, I had a woman call the house. She called because she found out he was married, and wanted me to know what my husband was up to, and that she'd broken it off with him. When I confronted Alex-"

"I can't hear his name, Hailey," Dylan said with a strained voice above her. "I need to hear everything he did to you, and I'm doing my best to stay sane and be the comfort you need, but if I hear his name..."

It was so easy to forget that Alex wasn't just her mistake, but Dylan's as well. The two had been childhood friends, and that friendship reached adulthood. They went to the same college together, were roommates. They were in each other's lives long before Hailey had entered the picture. She knew the connection, understood it even, but the two men were such opposites, it was hard to imagine them ever having such a bond.

"When I confronted him, I called him a cheating bastard, and he slapped me across the face. Three times. Told me he had enough of my crap for one night, then left again. Most women in an abusive relationship I hear get apologies. A promise to be better. Something. Not him, though. He meant everything he did and wasn't about to pretend he didn't.

"The next time he hit me was when I told him I wanted a divorce. I knew about all the women, and all I wanted was a few hundred bucks for a plane ticket, and I'd be out of his hair for good. That time when he hit me, it was after he threw me into our china cabinet, and it was with his fist."

That's when Hailey realized she was one of those battered women they made Lifetime Movies about. When she realized her self-respect was non-existent, and her life no longer belonged to her. Or so she thought.

"A few days later, I decided I didn't need a plane ticket. I just needed to get out. But apparently I chose the only day he came home from lunch, and I'd only had a twenty-minute head start. He messaged my phone when he noticed all my stuff was gone, and told me if I was back by the time he was done with work, he wouldn't so much as lay a hand on me. But if I made chase after me, he'd put me in a grave, consequences be damned. So, I turned around, and he was true to his word. Didn't hit me once, but he put a tracker in my phone and in my car.

"The third time he hit me, I don't even think he required a reason. He was just in a bad fucking mood because he wasn't chosen to lead a project. I was just at my friend Robin's house. I told him I was going to be there and wasn't a minute later than I said I'd be.

"But after that time I asked for a divorce, he mostly just pretended I wasn't there. So long as I had dinner on the table, and didn't cut in while he ranted about work, it was fine. It wasn't a marriage, but it wasn't the hell like some people have to go through either. He'd throw in some belittling comments here and there, but spent most of his nights with other women and made sure he paid the bills. Mostly, he was more a roommate I couldn't stand."

Dylan squeezed her once again, his body subtly shaking against her own. "Thank you for telling me."