“What are you doing?” Cash asks, his tired voice tinged with horror.
My fingers twist in the material as I look between him and the chair, hoping he didn’t see the worst of Phil’s handiwork. “You don’t have enough locks, soI…I wanted to make sure no one could get in. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” The bags forming under his eyes that study me intently reinforce his words. “The house has a security system. I’d know if someone broke in.”
“Oh.” I tug at the shirt, struggling to stretch it as far as it will go, but it’s no use. It only draws more attention.
His gaze drops to my legs as I try to hide the marks Phil left in his wake. I told myself that I refused Cash’s calls to keep him from sinking further into the fucked-up mess my life has become, but that’s only the partial truth. I also refused them because I needed to be stronger on my own, and I didn’t want him to see me this way. It’s bad enough when others see my face and neck. Their sympathy causes me to wallow in self-pity, and it pisses me off. I don’t want or need that.
When I look back up, Cash stands a few feet from me, his attention lingering on my legs. Not saying a word, he kneels down in front of me. Even on his knees, he’s a large man. He raises his hand and cups my calf, putting just enough pressure on it that I know he wants me closer. I close my eyes and inch forward until my foot bumps his leg. Warm breaths caress my stubbly flesh along with the heat of his nearness.
My lids remain closed as his hands gently rest on my body, sliding the shirt up my thighs. As his breath blows on certain parts of my legs, images of my damaged skin appear, as if I can see through his eyes. The horrendous memory of the beating slowly being replaced with the caring strokes of fingers barely gliding over my skin. Itold myself I didn’t want this, but I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until Cash’s lips feather the bruises with healing kisses of comfort, acceptance, love…. Trust.
The shirt slides up more as he kisses up to my hip bone, and across my stomach to the other side. His hands rest on my waist, and he nudges me turn around, but I can’t bring myself to move. Cash’s hair tickles my stomach, and my lids flutter open. His head is turned to the side as he lightly rubs against me. Of their own volition, my arms wrap around him, and my fingers run through his hair. His hands tense, as if he’s fighting himself not to dig in his fingers or wrap me in a hug.
Body trembling, I finally accept that I can’t do this alone. I need help healing the damage that was done on the inside. If I can’t let Cash in after allowing him to help me the first time, I’ll never let anyone in. I hate this new person Phil has created. She’s killing me slowly and hurting me more than Phil ever did.
Cash’s chocolate orbs meet mine, introducing me to the person he’s hidden most of his life. He’s scared, but determined, and strong enough to take on my pain with his. I don’t want to lose this side of him. I don’t want the real Cash to disappear. Leaning down, my lips meet his forehead, and he sighs contently. Somehow, someway, he’s chosen me and given me power over him. Whether he knows it or not, he has power over me too.
I take a step back, and his hands drop from my body. He grips his knees as uncertainty crosses his handsome face. Before I lose my courage, and before he loses his, I turn around. Grabbing the hem of the t-shirt, I ease it up slowly,revealing the wreckage an inch at a time. It’s a lot to take in, and I don’t want to shock him with it all at once. He tries to stop his gasp, but I hear it. I’d say it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as it looks, but I don’t know the pain he thinks I’m going through. And unless someone has been beaten with a belt before, they would never understand.
The chill in the air, along with my insecurity, has my arms snaking around my naked body, clutching the shirt to my breasts. Silence fills the room to the point I can’t breathe. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is too much for him. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess a shred of hope is too fucking much to ask for anymore. My chin drops to my chest in defeat. Just as I’m about to pull the shirt back on, his fingers trail over my legs, and I freeze. Tears begin to form, and when his lips make contact, I choke on a sob.
He takes his time, kissing every welt, scratch, and bruise up my backside until he’s standing. The cool air hits my back as he kisses his way around to the front of me. Wiping away my tears, he continues to my face, down my neck, and pauses when he gets to my chest. My nipples harden even more when he cups my breasts.
The body is a strange thing. It responds even if you don’t want it to. I learned that the hard way. Cash moves his thumbs in a circle, tracing the bite marks around my nipples as he studies them. The doctor said, depending on how deep the bites are, they could last for months. I hate that all I have to do is look down, or in a mirror, and see them so prominently. I would rather stare at the whip marks. They aren’t as personal.
What sounds like a growl has me glancing down. Very carefully, he leans in and circles the bite with the tip of his tongue. My head drops back, pushing away the memory of when Phil’s teeth latched onto me, and the way they felt breaking through my skin. They will never be gone, but I don’t want the memories controlling me. I don’t want them having power over me. I willingly give that power to Cash. He will never hurt me with it, he won’t try to use it against me, and he won’t let me use it to hurt myself. I just hope that he trusts me enough to never hurt him.
CHAPTER 7
CASH
FORthe life of me, I will never understand how someone gets off on causing another living being harm. I don’t really want to. Being able to comprehend something like that means that my darkness is the blackest of black, and capable of committing such atrocious acts. Unfortunately, it doesn’t keep me from asking myself the same question over and over again, driving myself insane. I knew things would get worse before we figured out what Phil was up to and correct it, but we can’t fix everything. We can’t bring back the people who died. And I can’t fix Hazel.
I’ve never heard anyone cry the way she did last night. It was heartbreaking and hopeful all at once. Her strength is immeasurable and awe inspiring. She hasn’t given up, at least not yet. I pray she never does.
Once I led her back to my father’s old bedroom and tucked her in, she asked me to stay. I didn’t want to leave her, but this room brought back too many memories. I hadn’t spent any time in there since he died, and barely gave the closed door a passing glance after allthese years. When my grandparents moved to California, I started having the housekeeper clean it once a month. That room just didn’t exist to me anymore. But when I decided to bring Hazel down here, my apartment didn’t come to mind. I wanted to bring her home. Having her sleep in his room felt right. And it was logical since it is right next to my old bedroom.
I pushed aside the ghost that has haunted me and pulled another blanket from the closet. As much as I wanted to hold her, I didn’t want to hurt her. So I lay on top of her blanket, hoping it would cushion her body if I bumped her through the night. It didn’t take long before she was sleeping soundly, and I followed right behind her.
Waking up curled around her with the scent of coconut in my nose put a smile on my face. For the second time, I slept without nightmares. The only other time was the first night I spent with Hazel. The happiness didn’t last long after last night drifted through my mind. I couldn’t just lay there; I had to get up and start righting all my wrongs.
I set my coffee cup down when I hear Dale and Joseph pull up the drive. It’s early, and I want to talk to them before they go to work. I greet them on the porch, so their knocking won’t wake Hazel. She needs all the rest she can get.
“Keep it down, Hazel is sleeping,” I tell them as they enter the house. “Coffee’s ready in the kitchen.”
After making their cups, we sit in the living room and get down to business.
“Now that Hazel is here, I think it’s time to confront Samuel,” Dale says, breaking the ice.
“I agree,” Joseph chimes in.
I tap my finger on my mug as I think about what that entails. It means we have to get rough with him, possibly take him out. I don’t want to kill anyone. And after seeing Hazel’s battered body, I don’t want to dole out that kind of punishment.
“Remember when we started all this?” They look at me questioningly. “We promised one another that if things got out of control, we would end it.”
They nod, knowing exactly where I’m going with this.
