“Close to fifty acres.”
Holy shit, I’ve missed being home so much. It’s small. Small town. Small population. But it’sbigtoo. Big, open spaces teeming with wildlife and trees and wildflowers. “Are there honeysuckles?” I ask, turning to Austin.
He cocks his head to the side with a bemused grin. “There are. Won’t be blooming until spring, though.”
Yeah, that makes sense, but at least I get to celebrate Christmas here. I hope we get snow. I love snow, but it’s not as fun in the city.Snow here always felt… quiet. Like a blanket over the ground. It was peaceful. Snow in Cincy is always… dirty. Dark and slushy from being scraped and driven over. Even when it’s falling, it doesn’t give the same peaceful, calm feeling that snow does here.
Austin pushes open his door and climbs out of the truck, so I do the same. I’m just breathing in the air when he grabs my bag. “Well, I can show you around inside if you’d like.”
I would like, so I gesture. “Lead the way.” I follow Austin onto the porch, my eyes scanning my surroundings with each step. God, I forgot how good it feels to be enveloped bythis. When Austin opens the front door, I almost laugh. “You don’t lock the doors?”
Austin shrugs. “Why would I? There’s no one around. You’d basically blink and miss the place.”
That’s fair, I suppose. And even if he wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, it’s not like Silverpine is a mecca of crime anyway. I think the sheriff and his two deputies probably fight more boredom than crime.
We step over the threshold, and I take in the space. It’s cozy—lived in. The walls are a sage green, the hardwood floors rich and real. Not some cheap vinyl or laminate. The couch looks fluffy and well-loved. There are two mismatched throw blankets tossed haphazardly over the back of it. The living room leads directly into the kitchen. It’s small, with just enough space for one, maybe two people to cook if they were standing close together.
“It’s not much,” Austin says, taking a step toward the couch. “But it’s home for now.”
“It’s perfect. I love it.”
Austin turns to me with a grin. “The only bathroom is through the bedroom, so you’ll have to come through there to use it.” That’s a little strange, but okay. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I follow Austin into the bedroom. His bed’s not made, but it’s huge. Definitely a king, and it takes up most of the floor space, leaving room for a path on each side and a dresser along the wall.
My skin starts to crawl. I shouldn’t be here. Not in his private space. Not with Damien’s touch—his cum—still ruining me and my skin. I take a step backward, then another.
“Whoa, hey, what’s going on?” Austin asks, eyes widening with alarm.
I shake my head. Try to shake the thoughts away. This isAustin.This town is myhome.Idobelong here. I just… I need to— “Can I shower?” I blurt out.
Austin’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Of course.” He sets my bag down on the bed, then pushes open the bathroom door. “Towels on the shelf there. There’s a toothbrush under the sink. Help yourself to anything in there you want to use.”
I inhale a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you.”
“I’m gonna go start on some food. Do you want soup or anything to go with your grilled cheese? I think I’ve got some veggie soup in the freezer still that Ma sent home with me last week.”
Oh hell yes. “Yes, please.” I catch myself at the last second. “As long as it’s not too much trouble.”
Austin shakes his head. “Not at all. Go ahead and shower. I’ll get food made, and then we can sit back and relax for a bit.”
I nod, waiting until Austin leaves the bedroom to open my bag and pull out some clean clothes. After I step into the bathroom, I shut the door behind me, locking it with a soft click, even though I’m sure I don’t need to.
I turn on the water and strip down quickly, avoiding my reflection in the mirror as I do. When steam is billowing out, I step under the hot spray, a shudder working its way through my body as theheat and heavy beat of the water work to soothe my aches and pains.
For a long while, I just stand there, but when my stomach growls loudly enough to echo off the walls, I work on cleaning myself. I scrub my skin until it hurts, but carefully where the worst of the bruises are. The worst part is that even when the bruises are gone, I fear the ghost of Damien’s touch will never leave me.
There’s no soap strong enough to wash away what he’s done. No washcloth is heavy-duty enough to scrub away the shame that lives under my skin. No amount of heated water can burn away the helplessness of what I let happen to me.
By the time I’m out of the shower and dry, I can’t see myself in the fogged-up mirror, and I don’t bother wiping it off so I can. I just carefully pull on my sweatpants and t-shirt and step out of the bathroom.
Austin’s humming, and listening to his rich baritone feels like coming home as much as the fields did. He used to sing all the time when we were young. It drove me absolutely crazy when we had sleepovers. Only because it seemed like he had endless energy, and I wanted to sleep. If he tries that shit now, I’m probably going to sleep on the porch.
For a second, I almost forget about what a freak show I must look like, until I step out of the bedroom and Austin’s eyes settle on my throat. I bring my hand up on instinct, wanting to cover the bruising. He looks away quickly, but it doesn’t really matter. “I know it’s bad,” I mumble.
Austin nods, looking down as he fills two bowls with soup. It smells delicious, and my mouth is damn near watering. “It is. It honestly just pisses me off.” Shame curdles my stomach, my breath catching in my throat. Austin picks up the food, settling his eyes on me again. “That fucker had some nerve putting his hands on youlike that.”
“Oh. You’re not mad at me?”
