Page 26 of Prince of Wrath

“He wanted you to know that Maddie is excited to meet you.”

“I can’t wait.” Getting to know another mute little girl and show her that it’s possible, that you can grow and be a functioning adult despite our differences is a gift I hope to be able to give. His hand presses my knees above the sheet.

“When you’re ready, there’s no rush.” He gives me a tight smile. “I had my mom on the phone. She’s, well, you’ll see when you meet her, but she’s already a big fan of yours.”

“How come?”

“Er, well, I think she sees you as a kind of savior or something.”

“What? A savior for who?” I frown, almost amused. She does seem interesting.

“Get ready, sweetheart. I’ll wait for you.”

“Don’t you need to go back to work? I don’t want to…”

“Nate is handling things right now. I’ll go back later.” I cross my arms, feeling small and awkward all of a sudden.

“I need to shower and put on new clothes.”

“Shower here.” He points at a door on the side of the room. “There’s new clothes for you in my closet. Yours are currently in boxes in the living room; I’ll bring them here later. I didn’t want anyone inside the house without me here, and also, a nurse will come tomorrow morning to check on you, and the therapist your doctor recommended will be there after, if that’s okay with you, of course.” He runs a hand on his nape, looking suddenly a decade younger.

“Yeah, it is. Thank you.”

Thank you for guiding me.

Thank you for letting me agree or refuse.

Thank you for making the best choices for me while I am underwater.

“I’ll be right back,” I sign, pushing the sheets away and tiptoeing to the door, fear running after me like a shadow made of memory. The sound of a hose clinking against a metal chair haunts me. The pressure was burning my flesh so badly I wondered if my skin would stay in place. And the horror of his laugh when he aimed at my stomach, while I tried to contract my abs to protect my organs. It was only days ago. I stop mid-step, my crossed arms turning into a tight hug around myself as I shut my eyes, trying to push it away. Turning slightly on my side, I sign with two hands, raising them near my chest, thumbs up, the right one tapping the other twice underneath.

Help.

Tristan is near me in seconds, like a soldier waiting for my command, a vein in his throat betraying the delicate position I am putting him in.

One where lust is overpowered by care.

One that few men today would accept.

“Just tell me what you need,” he murmurs as he leads, opening the door. I stop in front of the mirror, the last days of captivity sinking claws under my skin.

“They used a hose,” I sign, facing my reflection, feeling the weight of his gaze on my fingers and the taste of his unsaid anger. “I was… I was tied to a chair.”

His nostrils flare, but I catch him restraining his anger. “I’m so sorry, Ella. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to.”

“Could you…” I start signing, “Could you just hold my hand under the shower? It’s stupid, I know, but…”

“I’ll do it. I won’t look. I promise.” I undress as he turns on the shower, staring at the floor, yet so close to me that he could simply hold out his hand and touch my flesh. But I trust him. More than anyone in this life. What I do not expect is him literally entering the shower next to me, leaving only his shoes on a chair by the door.

In his white shirt, tie, and navy pants, he stands beside me contrasting with my nakedness. I let the water slash over both of us, his hand holding mine, squeezing it, rubbing my skin with his thumb, giving me the love and care my cells and brain crave more than air itself. There is too much to say, but we stay silent, reclaiming the language that was once ours. Steam gathers against the mirrors, the shower door, everywhere. Water cleansing me, becoming our soundtrack in the background.

“I’m closing my eyes,” Tristan states calmly. Counting my breaths, I try to picture what would happen if everything went the right way.

If Dad wasn’t mad at me.

If Mara let me live peacefully.

If I could go back to studying.