He squeezed her hand. She hadn’t realized he still held it.
He kept hold of her as he led her upstairs.
For the first time in a long time, she realized she was afraid.
Afraid of everything.
Afraid of the past and the future. Afraid of rejection and acceptance. Afraid of living and dying.
The only thing she wasn’t afraid of was him.
At his bedroom doorway, he dropped her hand. She froze. Unable to move. As if the reassurance of his touch was all that kept her going.
His eyes were full of anguish. Guilt swelled inside her. She’d put that look on his face. She’d done that to him. She wanted to die.
“It’s okay.” His voice sounded firm and solid, so at odds with how he looked. He motioned for her to enter the room ahead of him.
She forced her feet to move. Behind her, she heard the door close. The scrape of old metal on metal was loud in the room. The lock. He was locking her in. Another prison.
Blinding terror whipped her around. But Thomas stood there with her, holding the skeleton key. All her fear evaporated.
He put the key in his pants pocket, then met her gaze. “You’re not going to run away from this.” Each of his words was a blow to her defenses. “We’re going to stay in here until you deal with…” He paused as if he couldn’t find the word he wanted. “Everything.” Compassion warred with terrible determination on his face.
Her body began trembling, and she shook her head.
He took a slow step toward her as if he worried any sudden movements would cause her to bolt. He wasn’t wrong. Her legs twitched with the urge to run, to escape.
“Why—” His one word sped at her like a bullet.
Why? Which why did he want the answer to? Why had she gone to prison? Why had she murdered Rory? Why did she attack him? Why did she bite him?
“—do you keep running from caring and kindness? Especially after everything you’ve been through.” His tone was soft and serious, his gaze locked on her as if he expected to see an answer, but she couldn’t even understand the words he’d spoken.
Her ears heard him, but her mind got tripped up on the translation. Where was the criticism, condemnation, accusation? She needed those things. Not this.
He took another slow step toward her, stopping when he was inside her space, mere inches separating them. She was too tired to fight or resist anymore. Too exhausted to carry the burden of what she’d been through. She wanted to set it down and walk away, but she didn’t know how.
“You’ve been through some shit, and you’re having a hard time realizing it’s over.” He slid his hands around the back of her neck and used his thumbs to tilt her chin upward. His touch sent pleasant, warm tingles through her body, calming the alarm bells in her psyche. Slowly, he lowered his head to her. Was he going to kiss her? Right now? Her girlie parts cheered: Rah-rah-sis-boom-bah.
But he stopped when his forehead rested against hers, and all she could see was him. He filled every inch of her vision, making it impossible to look anywhere but at him. In that moment, he was her world. Nothing existed except him.
His scar heated her forehead where it touched her. His breath fanned across her face, sweet and warm. His eyes bored into her.
“It’s. Over. Leave it in the past where it belongs, because in this moment, you’re in my house. You’re with me. You’re. Safe.” His lips brushed against her mouth as he spoke. “You’re. Safe.”
She inhaled the words as if they were oxygen. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his voice, his hands on her neck, on the meaning of what he said. Desire to believe him warred with the ugliness in her soul.
“Look at me. I want to see you.” His voice brimmed with some emotion she couldn’t name.
She couldn’t resist him. His eyes were the night sky, and she longed to sail among the stars.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. The scars on your body are evidence of other people’s shame, not yours. They don’t define you unless you let them. They don’t own you unless you let them. They can’t change you unless you let them. This self-condemnation you’ve got, this fear you have… You’re letting them win. You’re letting every single person who hurt you have control over you, and they aren’t even here. You’re the one who’s hurting yourself.”
A tornado of terrible memories scooped her up, whirled her around until she was dizzy, and then set her back down. Here. With Thomas.
He was right.
Thanks so much for sharing the excerpt and being a stop along the tour! You rock!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely! It is a pleasure to help and support! <3
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