He’s slumped over the granite island, his normally tamed hair a disheveled mess, his dress shirt halfway unbuttoned. He looks like he’s brawled with a tornado and escaped with his life.
But it’s his eyes that stop me. The agony in them. The self-derision.
And a broken whiskey bottle, a victim on the floor.
“Wife,” he slurs. “Why are you down here?”
That’s when I notice the crimson streaking down his hand.
“You cut yourself!”
I set down the cake and grab the first-aid supplies I discovered last week.
I should ignore him, let the man hurt himself, but against all logic, I can’t. Not when he looks so broken.
Elias stills when I pull up a stool next to him. He hisses as I lift his hand and carefully clean the wound with wipes.
“Why are you doing this?” he rasps, his whiskey breath drifting over my skin. Awareness thrums between us like a living being. “If I bleed out, that’d make your life easier, wouldn’t it?”
I snort, wrapping the bandages. “You aren’t bleeding out from that. If only it were that easy.”
“Then why help me?” He chuckles darkly. “You hate me, don’t you? Because I hate you.”
My lungs tighten, a dull ache flaring. I tell myself his words don’t hurt.
But then I look up.
His green eyes, glazed with pain and something else, lock on my parted lips. My mouth dries. Elias dips his head slightly and trails a finger over my cheek.
A gasp escapes me. Liquid warmth pulses through my body in shivering waves.
“I hate you so much, Lana,” he repeats.
I flinch, drop his bandages, and step back. “Seriously, why do I even try?”
Shaking my head, I add, “Bandage yourself. Bleed out for all I care.”
But before I can take another step, he grips my wrist and yanks me onto his lap.
“What on earth?” I struggle in his hold, but he’s too damn strong.
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Moving. Leaving. Whatever.” Elias presses me against him, his breathing rough. “Don’t leave.Please.”
The anguish in his tone stops me. He tightens his hold as the air between us heats.
“Why? Why do you hate me?” A sharp pinch catches behind my sternum. I glance into his eyes. “What did I ever do to you?”
Elias clenches his jaw while his gaze skates over my face before settling on my lips.
He doesn’t answer me.
But he doesn’t look at me with hate. He looks at me like I’m precious. Like I’m a dream he can’t believe is real.
My heart throbs now, the ache stealing my words. There’s confusion too, because I don’t understand what my sins are, but I know they’re real to him.
