I slept like a fucking baby last night. Apparently laying out your darkest secrets and worst nightmares to the man you're (probably) falling in love with is the best kind of melatonin around. Go figure.

I haven't slept that peacefully in ages. Nightmares have been an unwanted companion of mine for as long as I can remember. I don't get them as often as I used to but when I do, they fuck me up to the point where I can't sleep properly for the next few days. When I finally do manage to escape the lingering feelings, the dread and anxiety and fear, I catch maybe one or two nights of peace before experiencing another nightmare. I've been stuck in this vicious cycle for too fucking long. Whether it's a flashback of Uncle Gary holding me down or the memory of Rebecca, I'm always haunted by something in the back of my mind. My demons never really go away but last night was the exception. Last night I slept without the weight on my chest or the anticipation of what my mind might show me if I fell asleep. I just closed my eyes, saw and felt nothing, and woke up feeling lighter than air. God, I could get used to that.

And waking up to Wolfe? It's fucking terrifying how I could get used to that too. As soon as I came to in the morning, I peeked over the edge of my bed and Wolfe was exactly where he was when we went to sleep — lying down on a blanket next to my bed and my fingers loosely intertwined with his. I don't know how but he managed to hold my hand the entire night without letting go and I think I could have stayed like that forever. I did give myself a few moments, though. Just watched him quietly and couldn't help but realize how different he looked when he slept. He'd looked so peaceful, his features relaxed and the always present harsh creases finally gone. He looked innocent and boyish and calm and it made me wonder what happened to him that made him so wary and angry with the world, wondered if he'd ever confide in me someday.

I didn't tell him all my secrets just so he could tell me his but it would be nice to know he trusts me the way I trust him now. I don't think I've ever trusted anyone the way I trust him. I know that just means I have a greater chance of being hurt but it also means that the most important person in my life has seen all of me and is staying anyways. I revealed every scar and every last ugly truth and he stayed. He knows me and he's still here. I didn't expect that.

What guy wants to stick around a chick who's been sexually abused for a good portion of her life? Wouldn't he think I was ruined, tainted, damaged goods? I saw myself like that for a long fucking time and that's why I refused to get close to anyone, to open my heart and share a life and settle down. I didn't want Wolfe to see me like that but I couldn't hold my secrets in anymore when he fucking broke my door down just because he thought I was in trouble. It was the way he looked at me — like he couldn't decide if he wanted to hurt whoever made me this way or hold me because he felt my pain like it was his own — that had me blurting everything before I could stop myself. I think part of me trusted him enough even though I thought I wasn't ready but I'm glad I followed my gut. He didn't find me disgusting, he didn't see me differently. I was still his Melanie and now I'm Melanie to myself too. I found her again thanks to the big guy.

I wanted to do something for him in return after realizing how much he's changed me for the better, how much he's helped me. That's why I convinced Titus to let me go home early so I could cook the big guy dinner while he's training at Fighter's Den. He officially started training for pros a few days ago and knowing Greg, the big guy is getting his ass kicked. I'm tripling the recipe for my fried rice and baked chicken, figuring he's worked up one hell of an appetite. His portions are already fucking outrageous being the huge man he is but his appetite after training? Catastrophic. The first day I moved in and had lunch with him I thought he was feeding the whole block but all of the food was for him. Jesus, the man can eat.

I'm finished with dinner and working on salad when I hear the front door open. I listen closely to the sound of keys jangling, boots coming off, and a jacket unzipping. It's all so familiar, so routine. When did our lives become so closely intertwined like this? When did he become the biggest part of mine?

"Hey, big guy." I greet with a smile when he steps inside the kitchen, his nose raised like he was following the scent of my cooking. I hold back a snicker. Men. "Hope you're hungry. Dinner is on me today and I cooked a shit ton so you better finish all of it."

He takes a peek around me where I'm cutting vegetables on the island, brows rising when he sees the large pots of food behind me. His eyes come back to me in question. He's still not talking and that's okay. A part of me was always waiting for him to relapse, to struggle a little because I suspected he was going too fast with the whole speaking thing. I knew he was physically capable but I always wondered if he could keep up mentally and kept waiting for the ball to drop. I'd seen it before, in myself. All I could think about was the first time I'd chosen to have consensual sex after finally escaping Uncle Gary for good and what a shit show that had been.

It was a couple of years after Rebecca's death and I was halfway through college and seeing a guy I liked. I wanted to sleep with him but I was just so afraid he'd be able to tell I was misused, ruined. He was a pretty good guy, really patient even though I made him wait so long. I finally gave in and we slept together after four months of dating and it was amazing. I was so excited that I actually enjoyed sex that I wouldn't stop having it. Went overboard with him, fucking in any place we could get away with fucking in. Then one night, when we were sleeping and cuddling after sex, I woke up in hysterics and lost it on him. Went completely ballistic and kicked him out with my fists raining down on him. It had just hit me so suddenly what I was doing and how my brain had been begging me to slow down all along. We broke up obviously and after that I decided I'd only have casual sex so that I could avoid catastrophes like that. Thus, never being in a relationship since. I choose to forget that I was even with him even though he was technically my first and only boyfriend. It's just easier to pretend like he doesn't exist, not in the present nor in my past.

I'm still so scared that I'll lose it during sex that even now I turn myself off completely, letting my body get its needs met but not being emotionally present at all. I don't think I've ever had sex and had my heart just as invested as my body. It's sad but it's true. I've never made love come to think of it. I've only had pieces of me taken, and carefully selected pieces of me given. I have sex because it makes my body feel good, because an orgasm is the one good thing a woman has going for her sometimes. I have sex so I can show myself that I'm still capable of experiencing something that was tainted for me from the very beginning. I have sex because it's my choice and it feels damn good when I get to say yes instead of pleading no. Just because I was raped it doesn't mean I can't have or enjoy sex now. I've just never been able to feel it in my soul, only in my body. I think sometimes I have sex so I can chase the euphoria that's supposed to come next but I've never found it. I'm not sure if I ever will.

Large hands wave in my face and I blink fast, realizing I zoned out. Wolfe watches me with silent concern and I wave him off with a smile. I'm not sure what he thinks is going on with me, probably wondering if I regret opening up to him or wanting to bolt out the door and I don't exactly blame him. If this was a few months ago I would have been gone in the night and a complete ghost to him. I would have ran, would have locked myself shut. The fact that I'm here and I'm okay with everything that happened last night is hard to believe for him and I both.

"I'm good," I tell him to clear the air. He visibly relaxes a little, gesturing at the cutting board and reaching for a knife. I slap his hand away to stop him and he glares. My grin is unapologetic. "Nope. You're not helping me one bit. This is my thanks to you so sit your ass down before I kick it."

He rolls his eyes and braces his forearms on the island, tilting his head in curiosity again.

"What?" I ask and he signs thank you with a confused expression, phrasing it like a question. Understanding what he's trying to say, I shrug. "Well, you handled me really well last night. You didn't judge me or look at me differently or get weird with me. It's hard enough opening to someone but when they don't react the way you want, you just want to seal yourself shut and never try again. But you were perfect. Your reaction was better than I ever would have expected and I feel really good today because of it. I know I told you I'm okay now but I have more hard days than good, big guy. The fact that you gave me a good day is a gift and so I'm thanking you. Thank you for being there and proving that trusting you was the right decision. Thank you for being...my best friend, I guess."

Jesus, I can't believe how fucking cheesy I sound. I duck my head and chop the vegetables like my life depends on it, refusing to meet his eyes and feeling vulnerable as fuck. I didn't mean to admit all that but I guess once I've completely opened up to him it's too hard to stop. He makes me want to say things I wouldn't be caught dead saying under normal circumstances. Sometimes I don't even recognize myself when I'm with him. This is definitely one of those moments.

His hand softly slips under my chin and tilts it up so that I'm forced to meet his eyes. My neck is hot with embarrassment, I feel so fucking exposed, but it's easy to forget all that when I see the way he's looking at me. His eyes are warm and there's a hint of pride in them, like he can't believe I said all that and is holding back a laugh of disbelief.

"Shut up," I mumble and his mouth twitches upward about one millimeter. I elbow him away with a barely contained smile of my own and get back to finishing the salad. "Asshole."

He knows me well enough to read the room so he goes and sits on the dining table instead, letting me do my thing. I can feel his eyes on me as I finish up and while I would usually be annoyed, I like knowing that his presence is so staggering and obvious. I like knowing I have someone on the sidelines that's there for me and I like it even more that it's him.

"Okay," I brush my hands off and go to wash them in the sink. "Everything's done. I'll grab you a plate."

I make one for him that's piled to the very top and one for myself that's reasonable by normal human standards and take both plates to the table. I set mine down first and then his right in front of him. He grabs my hand before I can pull away and turns it over so he can kiss the center of my palm. I startle a little at the sweet gesture and wonder what he did that for. Wolfe is casual as ever, letting go just as quick and digging into his food like that wasn't the most random and bizarre thing he's done. I figure it's just better to go along with it because I know him to be a handsy guy so I ignore the way my hand tingles from the lingering feeling of his lips on my skin and take my seat across from him.

I normally don't give a fuck about anyone's opinion on anything but I watch Wolfe carefully as he chews the first bite he takes. Meanwhile I've leaned back in my seat and I eye him, trying to appear casual. God, how does he make eating look that sexy?

"Well?" I ask impatiently because now he's dragging it out on purpose.

He offers me one of his rare smiles that almost extends cheek to cheek and leans back in his seat, mimicking me. "It's amazing."

I literally jump at the sound of his voice, hand going to my chest where my heart is thumping violently. For a while I forgot what he sounded like and I'm stunned because I wasn't expecting to hear his voice so soon. "You spoke."

"Yes," His smile kicks up a notch. "I missed talking to you."

Damn it. I actually fucking melt a little and I clutch the front of my shirt tightly, willing my heart to calm down already. "Oh."

"Besides," He continues and totally ignores how uncomfortable I got at the sweet sentiment. I swear I'm working on it. "There is a lot I wanted to say to you last night and my silence troubled me more than it comforted me. That's how I knew it was time to speak again."

"You don't have to say anyth—"

"Yes, I do."

I grow quiet when he puts his fork down and clasps his hands together. His stare is intense and the moment suddenly becomes glaringly serious. "You say you want to thank me for last night but it's me who should be thanking you. I know how scary it must have been taking a chance on trusting me and I am so fuckin' honoured that you chose me, Melanie. Thank you for letting me see all of you because I've never been more sure about how incredible I think you are."

My throat closes with emotion and I have to forcefully swallow it down. I didn't even know I needed to hear those words until he said them. They took away every last shred of restlessness and doubt about what he must think of me now, if he truly accepts me as I am. I manage to whisper a raspy, "Thanks, big guy."

"I want you to know that I trust you too." The look in his eyes shift to a pained expression and I have a distinct feeling about where this is going. "You remember I told you my parents were murdered?"

Holy crap. This is it. I've learned a lot about Wolfe on my own but the one thing I'd never been able to guess or venture into is his past. I think this is where I'm finally going to find out what made him this way, uncovering the last of the mystery I've spent so much time wondering about. I nod to let him know I'm following along because really, I couldn't lose focus if I tried. I hang on to his every word as he explains.

"I was five," He begins and already my heart splits open. Only five years old when his parents were murdered? Jesus. The world ruined him before he even had a chance. "I don't have a lot of memories of my mother and father but everything I do remember is good. I grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other and everyone knew my parents. They were high school sweethearts, the cliché couple where my father was a detective and my mother was a teacher. I remember we always had people stopping by our house because my parents were that loved. I don't think I have a single bad memory of them. They gave me an amazing life."

Which means losing them was that much harder. God, I can't believe how much pain my heart is in. I almost don't want to hear the rest because I know where this is going. I know there is no happy ending to this story that has such a wonderful beginning.

"I enjoyed the simplicity of living in a small town. I enjoyed the quiet nights and the familiar crowd and the unity of the people. It made me who I am at the core; a simple man." He shrugs and it's true. Wolfe may be a mystery but underneath it all he's very simple. He minds his own business and lives the life he wants. That's it, really.

"There is only one bad thing about small towns," He says so quietly, so sombrely, that I know this is the beginning of the end. I try to prepare myself knowing it won't do much good. "Small towns attract bad people. People who have done wrong and are trying to outrun bad things take refuge in small towns where they can hide in plain sight. The town I grew up in was peaceful until a terrible man found it and ruined us. He was a serial killer and my father was the person to take him down and lock him up. That just made him the town hero and everyone boasted about how incredible and brave Officer Emerson was. They should have kept quiet because all that bragging brought more unwanted company that were seeking revenge. Our town led them straight to my father."

Oh no. My gut sinks with dread, twisting sickly at the look on Wolfe's face. It's so obvious how much he loved his father because the grief that's radiating off of him is bringing me to the brink of tears. I've never seen him look this vulnerable, this afraid. What happened to him? I find out a moment later.

"One night I was having dinner with my parents. It was a regular night just like any other day until we heard some kind of commotion outside our house. My father took a look outside and ran back in immediately, dragging us upstairs to hide. I guess he recognized the killer's posse or whoever the fuck they were but he got us all away in time. The only problem was we could have hidden for only so long and my father needed backup. Back then cell phones weren't as common and we only had a landline which was downstairs so my father had no choice but to try and sneak around them once they broke in. It didn't work out obviously and he was cornered. I was upstairs with my mother and we were both hiding out in the closet but we heard the gunshots. I didn't understand the noise because I was a kid but the way my mother reacted, the way she became hysterical clued me in. I was a kid but I still realized that my father had just been killed."

Oh my God. My hand covers my mouth in barely contained horror. I can't even imagine going through something like that. He may not have seen his father get killed but he did witness it in a way. He heard the gunshots and so it was as if it happened right in front of him. Fuck. I think I'm going to be sick.

"We figured they would leave after that but they wanted to make sure the house was empty. They came upstairs, there were about four men, and they found my room. My mother and I were still hiding in the closet while we heard them searching my room just outside. We could hear them talking and apparently the crew's leader, Kane, was out for blood against my father and fooled his guys into the job. They thought it would be a hit-and-run type of situation and didn't realize my father had a family. They were pretty pissed at him for lying."

"So they left?" I ask hopefully. Just the way he's describing everything sinks my chest with fear. To be locked in a closet while fucking killers are lurking around moments after killing your family...hell. That's straight out of a horror movie and he lived through it. He was just a kid, damn it.

"No," Wolfe seethes. There's still grief in his eyes but they're also ablaze with fury. "The fucker Kane wanted to be thorough. He noticed the closet and opened it to check if it was clear. My mother was quick on her feet and dumped a pile of clothes on me so I would be hidden and sacrificed herself, stepping outside to divert them and making them believe it was only her hiding. I couldn't see what was happening but more gunshots went off after she begged them to leave and I knew that I lost her too."

"Jesus," I whisper and turn away. I'm seconds away from throwing up. First his father and then his mother? And he more or less witnessed both of their deaths from just a few feet away. A five year old kid saw his parents murdered in cold blood. I can't even wrap my mind around how horrific that is. It's hard to believe the man sitting in front of me, this confident and deadly and intense man is the same person who experienced a past like that. I can't help but see him differently and wonder if this is how he felt when I told him my story. He seems like a completely new person even though I know nothing has changed. He's still Wolfe but...he isn't. Now there's so much more to him, a depth I didn't know existed before this moment.

"When the gunshots went off I couldn't stop my scream. I was so fuckin' terrified because that time I knew exactly what the sound was and I was scared shitless. Kane found me and he would have killed me too had it not been for the sirens outside the house. My father got help in time and he saved my life even though he was gone. The last thing he did for me was save my life, just like my mother. They're both the reason I'm alive today. But I didn't exactly go unharmed. Kane was paranoid I would rat him out so he put a knife to my throat and sliced it open just enough that I would be in pain but still be alive. That's the reason my voice is so husky and deep-seated, because of the way he grazed my voice box when he did that. Then he threatened me and said if I ever spoke again he'd find me and finish the job. To the kid whose parents were just murdered and was bleeding out, of course I agreed. It fucked me up bad. After that I never talked again."

That's why? Of all the things I could have guessed, of all the theories I came up with and reasons I predicted I never would have thought to come up with something like this. This is beyond fucked up and inhumane and I can't tell if I want to go back in time and strangle that asshole Kane with my bare hands or cry for all the loss that Wolfe experienced before he was even old enough to understand what a loss was. Of course that fucked him up. To a kid who lost everything he would have listened to anything, would have believed he had no choice but to do what he was told or he'd die like his parents. Of course he didn't talk again after something like that.

"How?" I croak out. It's taking everything in me not to burst into tears at this point. "How did you get past something like that? How did you move on with your life?"

"I had no choice but to keep going," He repeats the same words I said to him last night. It's funny — when you go through your own horrors you know it's possible to move on because you're proof that it can be done. When it's someone else's horror, you believe you wouldn't have stood a chance in their shoes. Wolfe probably felt the same disbelief and hopelessness for me that I'm feeling for him right now. We both went through some fucked up shit but we somehow managed to overcome it. I'm not even sure how but we really did.

"What about your grandfather?" From what little pieces I picked up on, I know his grandfather is who took him in and raised him and I've always wondered about that.

"Gramps," He immediately becomes fond. There's a softness to his face that was missing the moment he started his story. "He lived in Boston and I don't remember ever seeing him before my parents died but I was probably too young to remember. He flew down to Australia as soon as he could to take care of me and all of the arrangements. I remember lying down in a hospital bed and still recovering when he walked inside the room. I was so afraid and untrusting of everyone around me. The hospital staff had to sedate me a couple of times because other people made me panic. Not Gramps, though. I didn't know him at the time but as soon as I saw him I knew everything would be fine. He had that face, you know? The understanding instead of pity. He'd just lost his son and I'd just lost my father so we shared the same pain. It brought us closer together. He was my saving grace after all of that. Reporters chased me down every chance they got and Gramps fought them off and got me away from all of that. He decided to settle down in Australia because he didn't want more things in my life to change than they already did. My grandmother died before I was born so it was just Gramps and I."

"I'm so glad you had someone," I tell him truthfully. Back then I had Rebecca and she was the only reason I made it through all those years. She was my saving grace the way Gramps was for Wolfe.

"Me too," He agrees. His smile becomes sad, eyes a little dim once more. "Gramps did everything for me. Homeschooled me, taught me everything about life, got me into boxing so I could learn some discipline. I never talked to him but he didn't care. He didn't see me differently or try to 'fix' that part about me. He never once heard me talk, do you know that? We lived in silence and it was pretty okay. Once I hit my teen years I was sick of living in a town where eyes followed me everywhere. I became the town's tragic story, the orphan who went mute, and I couldn't live a normal life. I was ready to leave it behind and asked Gramps to come back to Boston. So we moved back here and started a new life."

"Gramps taught me all about computers and realized I had a natural gift for them so he sent me to college, forced me to go and live a regular life and learn to be part of the real world. I was a piece of work but he raised me well. He was even the one who discovered Fighter's Den for me and sent me there. Coach is the only one who knows about Gramps and everything about my past and that's why we have a decent relationship. Anyways, Gramps died of a heart attack not too long after that. It was around three years ago, heading up on four. Ever since then I've had the guys and Coach but it's still not the same. It's been a long time since I've had anyone in my life that I can be myself with, someone who actually fuckin' gets me."

He'd been staring off at nothing in particular but his eyes lift to meet mine, softening as he watches me. My stomach flips in response. "It wasn't until I met you that I felt like I could breathe again. Nobody knows anything about me other than what they see on the outside. It's like I've been putting on a show or playing the part that everyone expects from me. You're the only person who saw right through my act and fuck me, did you do everything to prove it. I wasn't ready for you, Melanie Parks."

God, it's ironic that he said all that. He couldn't sound more like me if he tried. Aren't I always saying that it feels like I'm going through life wearing a mask and no one knows who I really am? I used to wonder all the time why the big guy and I always gravitated to each other because we seemed so different but it's moments like these that make me realize just how similar we are. It's comforting and exciting all at once.

"I wasn't ready for you, Wolfe Emerson." My mouth twitches in good humour. The instinctive part of me wants to shut this conversation down because it's getting too real but I fight it, reminding myself that nothing fake is worthwhile. I like how real this is, even if it's scary. "You saw right through me too, you know? Called me on my bullshit without saying a word. Bastard."

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips as he reaches for his glass of wine I poured out earlier. He holds it up and clinks it against mine. "To bastards."

"And bitches," I wink.

We take down our drinks in one go, eyeing each other over the rims of our glasses. I can't resist getting in a good joke, needing something light-hearted for this way too heavy night.

"Hey, big guy?" I ask expectantly. He does his head tilt and I smile when I realize I haven't seen that since our appointment days. I almost can't believe how much has changed since then. "Are you going to kiss me today?"

And for the first time since I've known him...Wolfe Emerson laughs.

A deep chuckle that rumbles out of him and hits me straight in the gut, goosebumps erupting all over me at the deliciously husky sound. I watch him, so fucking stricken, as his shoulders shake and his mouth parts to reveal a set of teeth I've never seen before. The sound seems to vibrate off the walls and rumble deep inside my chest, so genuine and contagious.

Yeah. It's so much fucking better than a kiss.

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A/N

GOD I LOVE THESE TWO. Their friendship gives me so much life. They compliment each other so well and it's so obvious how good they are for each other. They really do bring out the best in each other and I am here for it!

Also, who noticed that this chapter is "Melanie" instead of "Lenny"? I'm loving her character development!

Please VOTE, comment and share if you liked this chapter!

Happy Reading :)