It was a part of me that I didn’t want Noah to see. It was bad enough when we were teenagers. He didn’t do well with it then, and I couldn’t imagine him doing any better now. I sure didn’t manage it any better.
I wanted to think it was worse now.
“The food is here. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes, little one.” Beckett’s whispered words weren’t far enough away.
Was he still here because of Noah? Did he freak out and I wasn’t there?
That could be a good thing. A better reason to keep pushing those two together. Noah couldn’t handle me like this. Never could.
With a groan, I wiped my hand down my face. It was then that I noticed my shirt was off, and there was a different blanket covering me.
At my sound, Noah flipped around, banging against the couch. The little jar wasn’t much, but enough to awaken a headache. Which in turn caused another groan to come forth.
“Ashie?”
“Okay, sweetheart,” I muttered, slowly opening my eyes. “Advil?”
“Yeah. Okay.” Noah jumped up, crashing into the couch before getting his feet under him again. By the time he got back to me with some water and two red pills, I was sitting up.
“Thanks.”
Oh, that wasn’t water. Sprite bubbled in my mouth as I took the pills, hoping they’d work quickly. I’d have liked something stronger, but my weak moments wouldn’t allow that. I’d have-
My thought was wiped away as Noah hugged me tightly from the side. My arms were squished at my sides, but for him, I’d endure it all. And more. This was nothing.
“You scared me.”
“I’m okay.” Physically at least. “But...uh... where is my shirt?”
Noah pulled back, giving me an uncertain look. “It...was really smelly.” I waited him out. “D-Beckett took it off because it was bothering me.”
“Oh.”
Speaking of...Beckett entered back into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him. He carried a bag from a place I didn’t recognize the symbol of. “Hey.”
I just stared at him, unsure of too many things to do anything else. At least I currently didn’t want to kneel for him.
“Go wash up, little one.”
Noah stood after giving me another sideways hug before rushing off toward the bathroom. Moments after, Beckett took my friend’s seat but left a bit more room between us.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like crap.” I didn’t have the energy to try to lie. The weight on my shoulders was too heavy to bear alone at the moment. “But better. Mostly just tired.” And sore. And hungry, and...emotional. But we’ll just ignore all that.
“I want to apologize for taking off your shirt without your consent. Well, you kinda did.” Beckett’s forehead scrunched up in thought. “But it wasn’t real consent. But Noah-“
“Can’t do the smell. I know. It’s fine.”
I think this was the longest amount of time I’d kept eye contact with the man. Something must be wrong with me, I thought.
“I didn’t look.”
Look at what? “Oh.” My scars. They weren’t that hard to see. Most had faded to just little things here and there. But the place where I had been claimed, well marked as being owned, would be there forever.
Going through tattoo laser removal wasn’t the greatest thing, but I hated being owned. It hurt just as much, if not more, than when the barcode and numbers had been tattooed onto my skin.
I swallowed, dropping my eyes down to the cold cup of Sprite in my hand. I took another sip, letting it settle. I didn’t want to recall how young, how frightened, I had been when I was tied to a chair and marked like cattle.
