Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
"There was never a question of that, baby. I wasn't sure if you were real or something I made up, but I couldn't…" I pause, searching for the words to explain. But she places her fingers over my lips.
"I know." Her lips quirk into a timid smile. "It was the same for me. Everyone said you were dead. But I still couldn't move on. To me, you were always the only one." She shrugs, her gaze dropping from mine. "You would have been the only one for the rest of my life."
"Jesus," I whisper, dragging her up against my chest as my heart threatens to explode out of it. I bury my face in her hair again, just…breathing. Christ, it feels like the first time I've taken a breath in years.
We sit just like that for a long time, just holding each other, her presence seeping into my pores, into all those raw, ravaged places. Just being here like this, holding her like this, this is healing. Never fucking thought I'd have it. I don't even know what it means. But I'm a hopeful motherfucker. And I'm a patient one too. I meant what I told her yesterday. I'll wait forever if that's what it takes.
After six years in hell, a lifetime being allowed to exist in the same city as her feels a little like standing at the gates of heaven. If that's all I ever get, I'll take it. I'll love her from afar just as fiercely, just as intensely, as I do with her in my arms right now.
Her fingers brush across the scars on the backs of my hands, and she pulls back, her eyes seeking mine. Her expression is somber, full of pain. "I want to ask…" She bites her lip. "What happened to you, Grayson? What did they do to you?"
Well, fuck. I said I'd tell her anything she wanted to know. But I wasn't prepared for this question. Some things, she's better off never knowing. But I can't lie to her. Even now, I can't.
"I don't remember a lot of it," I mutter, a harsh laugh rolling from my lips. "Thought maybe those memories would come back with the rest of them, but I guess God has a little mercy because they didn't. I remember…" I think back, trying to put it into order. I've only ever had flashes, brief glimpses of pain and agony. "I remember being run off the road. The car flipped. When I woke up, I was being dragged across the gravel by my legs. My arm was broken. I think my ribs were too. Everything hurt like hell."
She trembles in my arms, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"I passed out before they got me wherever they were going. When I woke up again, I was tied to a chair." I stroke her back when she whimpers. "I don't know how many people beat the hell out of me. Everyone who came through the house, maybe? Used whatever they felt like using." I found out later that the two men who ran me off the road were supposed to kill me once they got me out of the city, but I was good business. They kept me alive for the entertainment of their clients. If people hadn't been willing to pay for their turn torturing me, I'd be dead now. I don't tell her that, though. Some things she doesn't ever need to know. That's one of them.
"They…burned you?" she asked.
"There isn't much they didn't do, sweetheart," I murmur.
She whimpers, a sob catching in her throat.
"Shh, Mina. Shh." I cup her cheek, resting my forehead against hers. "I'm right here. Alive. The rest of it doesn't fucking matter, baby."
"It matters to me." She chokes out a breath, her green eyes swimming with grief and pain. "God, Grayson. I was so damn mean to you. And you've already been through s-so much." Her bottom lip quivers. "I said a-awful things."
"Hey." I cover her mouth with a gentle hand, shaking my head. "I wasn't the only one who went through it, baby. You went through the same six years. You were pregnant alone. You went through labor alone. You've been raising our little girl alone. And you did it thinking I was dead."
"Oh god." Her eyes fly open wide, burning with guilt. "We had a f-funeral. We buried you," she says. "Everyone thinks you're dead b-because of me!"
"Baby." I pull her up against my chest, tucking her head beneath my chin. "You hear that? Hear my heart beating against your ear? That means I'm alive, and you're in my arms. The rest of it doesn't fucking matter. We'll figure it out. What matters now is this. It's us and our daughter. It's healing." I exhale a breath. "I mean…if that's what you want."