“Is Nessie?” I quizzed, remembering the words Hell spat.
“He’s never hurt her. . . but he scares her a lot, and he enjoys that.”
“He doesn’t hurt her because she loves you?”
“She doesn’t. She likes me, I guess. She understands my condition more than you’d imagine a seven-year-old to understand. And she loves Woody.”
“And Woody, what’s his purpose?” I needed to understand him. . . them. . . all of it.
“As Woody, I have someone. Someone who cares, genuinely cares—Nessie. But as me, as Woodrow, I have nothing but violence and sneers.”
The pain in his body had his hand reaching for mine, but he retracted before I could hold onto him, and I would have. . . because my feelings of love and compassion hadn’t disappeared, they were just now attended with hatred and fear.
“And then I got you. I didn’t understand it. I had no idea where you came from. It wasn’t me that was told of you. And you’ve seen Woody’s diary entries; they make no sense. Hell holds back; he keeps things from me.”
“And you really have no awareness. . .?”
“During a switch, no. Nothing. Not as me, anyway. There are times when Hell watches everything, like he’s in the background of my conscience. Sometimes, Woody does this, too. But when they take over, I rarely get that. It’s like I’m asleep. And they get to act on my behalf, acting out in ways I wouldn’t dare to. Doing things I wouldn’t.”
Woodrow reached for my hand again, allowing himself to get closer this time. His eyes closed in a silent prayer that I wouldn’t pull away. I didn’t. I let his fingers wraparound mine, and I held on to him.
“He did something unforgivable, and I know that because I can’t forgive it. I want him to go away for it. Forever. At one time, he was all I had, but then you came along.”
He thought back over one of our more intimate conversations. Of what had brought me here.
“I hate the things you went through. I promised myself that I’d make you happy; that I’d do anything for you never to feel that fear again.”
I squeezed his hand, eyes finding him as we continued to walk.
“What happened to me breaks my heart.What Hell didrips me to pieces.” His grip didn’t waver, even as my words ruptured the organ in his chest. “And it’ll probably happen again?”
“I can’t answer that. But I fear that we both know what could happen. What my father will—”
“He’s scum.”
“He is. He’s a monster.” Woodrow shrugged, his shoulders lifting high, rising his tee enough for me to see the bruises on his back. “And he and my mother created one. They made me worse. . . and now, they can’t handle me.”
“He could help you. You were right when you said he chose not to.”
Woodrow nodded again, his head barely moving, not to cause himself pain.
“Woodrow. . .” I turned to him, blocking his path. “I know you hate yourself.”
“I do.”
“I don’t. I hate what happened, and I hate theother one.” I didn’t use the name Hell. I didn’t want it on my tongue, and even now, after he’d proved why they called him that, I still thought it was a stupid damn name. “But I love you more than I hate him. You’re all I have. You . . .and Nessie. But it’s different. With you, it’s different. And I can’t lose it, even if it gets me hurt.” On pointed toes, I stretched to kiss him, my mouth against his as I whispered, “Some people are worth suffering for.”
His lips parted on mine to tell me he didn’t want me to suffer at all, but I silenced him, sealing the unsaid message.
His hands braced my hips, steadying me as he welcomed the intimate touch. He barely kissed me back. But he held me for a minute before we continued to the hutch.
The longest minute ever.
A moment of silence for what we could have lost.
The most special of bonds.
Chapter 15
