My phone is in the pocket of the torn dress, and I check the display, no missed calls. I retrieve my bra and panties, slipping them on, then stuffing my phone into my bra, rolling the ruined dress into a ball, and wiping at the worst of the bloodstains.
“You don’t need to do that,” he remarks from just outside the door and I nearly hit the ceiling.
“I’m going to buy you a bell if you don’t start making a normal amount of noise when you enter a room,” I tease, taking my clothes and tugging them on while he stands there, smiling.
His injured wrist was steamed clean in a shared shower, the jagged edges of his wound now held together with layers of gauze and far too much tape. Just looking at the bandage makes me woozy.
“Hey,” he says, moving to my side, alarm in his voice. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”
I nod, closing my eyes as I rest my head against his chest. It’s my favourite place in the world right now, listening to the steady pump of his heart, my cheek moving with the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.
There are still problems to solve but I have a sense of connection with this beautiful boy I’ve never felt with anyone outside family. I’ve kept secrets from him, withheld information, but now I can’t remember why.
He walks me back to his room, propping me on the bed, back against the headboard, positioning himself by my side.
“I’m sorry for scaring you. And for wedging myself into every corner of your life.” With my head on his chest, I close my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Evie, please believe me, if I’d known…”
Maddox takes a tighter hold on me and when his voice fails, he lets the warmth of his arms tell me his sorrow.
“Sometimes, I get this sense like I’m a doll. People play with me and sometimes they’re careful and most times all they want is to have their fun and they don’t care if that means rolling me in the mud.”
“You’re not a doll. I don’t… I’m sorry. It was never meant to be like that.”
“I didn’t mean you.” A laugh bursts out of me, mostly relief. Not just that I’ve told him the worst, and he’s accepted it butbecause now it’s said, I never have to tell the story again. “Maybe a little the day at the department store, but never apart from that. I know you’re not anything like them. I twisted my fears around to throw at you because I needed a reason to leave and that’s all I had. It was cruel.”
“But I made you wear the collar.”
When I turn to him, his face is mottled with angry patches of crimson. “No, you didn’t. It was a struggle, but I wanted to. I needed to feel closer to you.”
“And the sedatives.”
“Yeah. You really are a shitty boyfriend. I’ll have to send Dahlia out with your credit card again to teach you a lesson.”
“It’s not a joke.”
Alarm spikes in my system. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel worse about yourself. You gave me choices.”
“I coerced you.”
“Because you were bought up with far too much money. I bet that shit’s as natural as breathing.” When he still doesn’t find the joke, I give him a light elbow in the ribs. “Every employer alive coerces people to work for them. Don’t go thinking you’re all special.”
His forehead presses against the back of my neck, and I feel his tension. Then he lifts his head away. “Does that make me your boss?”
“Well, you do like to order me around.”
Finally, he laughs against the side of my neck.
“I didn’t mean it, you know,” I whisper.
His nose wrinkles in confusion. “Which bit didn’t you mean?”
“You’re not a shitty boyfriend. You’re my favourite boyfriend ever.”
“Mm-hm. And is this the bit where you follow up by saying I’m the only one you’ve ever had?”
I heave out a long sigh. “Guess I’m becoming predictable.”
But if anything, his arms close tighter around me. “I like that. I’d hate to think the firsts were all one-sided.”
