Stealing Kisses

Chapter 10

Tim POV: 

Faith sits across the kitchen island from me, before glancing around my house once more. She has a lot on her mind, but she's not saying much. I just know that she's here because of the pictures that came out of us. Honestly, it's not that damning. Holding hands isn't making out. She looks at me before cringing a bit. 

"What's up with you today?" I say, as she shrugs. She brings her hand toward her mouth like she's about to nervously chew on a nail, before she catches herself. 

"I keep getting flashes of... I don't know... It's things that have to do with you. Some of it's things that actually happened, and others are, I don't know..." She stumbles around her words, watching her knees to keep from locking eyes with me. I sigh, before nodding. "I was checking in on Jake, and I saw you when you were around the same age." She says, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Your stepfather was..." She stops short, wincing at the thought. "He--" She starts, before I put up my hand. 

"You don't have to finish that... I know." I say, watching her glance up at me. "He was a ruthless son of a bitch. He wasn't exactly a fan of the fact I was another man's son, even when I didn't know I was." I explain, as she nods slowly. She rubs her forehead, the sight seeming to weigh on her. 

"Why the hell is this happening?" She bursts out, having the same thoughts I've been running through. I shrug, before sighing. Some of the memories I've been seeing are a little too deep for comfort. I'm sure she's going through the same thing. It just doesn't make sense. 

"Who was he?" I croak out, curiosity getting the best of me. She stares at me, narrowing her eyes. "I remember you waking up from a nightmare, and you told me about what happened, but you never told me who he was... and it seemed like he..." I start, before remembering that this actually happened. I mean, she didn't wake up from a nightmare and vent about her sexual assault, but she was sexually assaulted. She hangs her head for a moment, before hugging herself. "You don't have to tell me, if it's too much." I excuse, knowing I crossed a line. She shakes her head, before she clears her throat. 

"He was one of my older sister's friends." She says, brushing her palms on her jeans. I lean back on my barstool, trying to remember instances in which she's talked about her sister. I can only pick two: one when we were engaged, and I had asked who her maid of honor would be, mentioning a sister she had acknowledged briefly in a drunken conversation, and another when we fought about her not attending her mother's funeral after her sister reached out to her with the news. Besides those two memories, I have no recollection of who she is. I don't even know how much older she is. 

"Are you close with your sister?" I pry, trying to delve a little deeper into a gray area. She looks at me which a little bit of frustration in her eyes. 

"I prefer not to talk about her." She states, causing silence to develop. After a few moments, she sighs, glancing up at me. "She was five years older than me, and she followed my parents' footsteps to a tee. I haven't spoken with her since I left Mississippi." She says, offering me the slightest bit of information. 

"Is she the reason you were at that party?" I continue, hoping she'll stay open for a moment. She clears her throat before nodding. 

"I was supposed to be her designated driver." She laughs, before shaking her head as her eyes well up. "Everyone there was far older than me. I mean, she was twenty-one and she was the youngest person there besides me. She was dating a thirty-year-old at the time, and they went off somewhere to hook-up, leaving me alone in a group of older men who all practically shoved alcohol down my throat." She explains, before having to take a moment. I reach out for her hand, feeling something the moment I touch her skin.