“You and your secrets are safe with me always,” he says. “Always.”
I nod with an exhale. “I keep razors in my bag.”
Rowan tenses at that.
“I don’t use them,” I continue. “I haven’t used them, I swear. I promise you, Rowan, I haven’t?—”
“Natalia,” he sighs, his softness soothing my aching heart. “Even if you did, or do, it won’t change what I feel for you. I’ll kiss your scars, sweetheart. I’ll heal them.”
I shake my head, my chin quivering almost violently. “You can’t do that.”
“I will try to,” he counters. “I’ll always try to for you.”
“It feels weird sometimes,” I say as his thumbs wipe my cheeks. “I mean, I’m almost twenty-eight and I’m still dealing with this? Doing this?”
“With what?”
“This,” I say again, waving my hand around. “The insecurity and the depression and the…cutting. It makes me feel so infantile sometimes.”
“Sweetheart,” he breathes with a soft sigh. “You aren’t alone. And age… well, age doesn’t really matter. Sometimes things will be a life-long battle and I know you don’t want them to be, but sometimes they are.”
“I’m tired,” I rasp, my voice thick and hoarse and my throat sore.
“I know.” Rowan frowns and puts his forehead to mine. “I know, sweetheart.”
“I’m not as strong as you think.”
“Yes you are,” he says. “Strength just looks different on everyone.”
“Then how does it look on me?” I croak. “Pathetic? Rowan, I don’t want to feel this way forever.”
“It looks beautiful,” Rowan says. “You wear it differently, but I see it. You’re going to therapy again, you’ve been clean for almost two years.Thatis how you’re wearing it.” Rowan holds my wrist gently in his tender, loving hands. “These scars…” he rasps, pained, with sad eyes. He brings my wrist to his lips to place another soft kiss on it.
“Battle scars?” I whisper.
“Survival,” he whispers back. “Even when you didn’t want to survive.”
“Rowan.” The bastard is making my chest tighten, throat burn, and eyes blur. Everything hurts but, more than that, everything feelsgoodaround him. Like the pain of a healing wound. “I’m scared I won’t be enough for you. I’m scared that I’m still so insecure I’m going to ruin this.”
“I won’t let you ruin this.”
“You can’t—Rowan, I’ve been working on it. Going to therapy again…” I take a beat to breathe, control the trembling in my voice, and soothe the burning in my throat. “Going more often has been helping me a lot. But I’m not perfect.”
“Perfect is overrated, you know that.”
I scoff. “You’re pretty perfect, Rowan Asher.”
He blinks, his eyes narrowing and brows pulling together as a smirk decorates his lips. “Did you just…”
“Don’t make it a thing.” I roll my eyes and gently shove his chest.
“Come here, sweetheart.” He chuckles and pulls me tight against him. “I’ve waited a long time to be yours. Nothing is ruining this for us.”
My cheeks flush again, not from the tears this time. “You promise?”
Rowan smiles. This beautiful blond man towers over me and holds me so close I can’t believe it’s me he is choosing. He holds up his pinky between us. “Pinky promises are binding.”
I smile back, blinking to see him clearly. I hook my pinky with his. “This holds weight more than the law.”
