Her words galvanized him to action and he quickly ushered her in and sat her down in front of the fireplace, his touches so gentle that her chest ached. It was obvious he was working hard not to touch her at all and yet still ensuring her absolute comfort.
But as his hands slid away, his fingertip brushed over one of the stitches on her arm barely peeking out from the long-sleeve shirt she wore.
Sorrow swamped his face as he brushed his thumb upward, pushing the sleeve to bare even more of the twelve-inch slice he’d inflicted down the length of her arm. And then as if realizing what he was doing—inspecting the injury he’d caused—he yanked his hand back as if burned.
“Eliza said you killed him,” she said casually to take his focus off his obvious self-loathing.
Sorrow shone in Caleb’s eyes and he looked away as though he were unable to bear it if she condemned him for what he’d done.
“He’s dead,” Caleb said flatly. “I don’t regret killing him.”
She wondered if he even heard the defensiveness in his voice. Did he think she would condemn him?
“Good,” she said savagely. “Do you realize we’re truly free now?”
His brow arched and furrowed in obvious confusion. He nodded as if not trusting himself to speak. Or perhaps he simply didn’t know what to say. He looked as though he were afraid to say anything at all because he was still trying to sort out why she’d come all this way to tell him something he already knew.
She was waiting no longer. They’d suffered long enough. Suffered too long a separation even if it only had been two weeks.
She reached her hand out to him, praying he wouldn’t reject her. He stared at it for a long moment until something shriveled and died inside her. She started to lower it, already bracing herself for his rejection and then to her profound relief, he caught her hand before it rested on her lap and slid his fingers over hers, lacing them together.
She pulled desperately at him, wanting him near her, close, touching her. He stumbled forward, a deep frown on his face. She reached up to him with her other hand, practically climbing him in her effort to pull him all the way down to where she sat on the couch.
“Hold me,” she whispered. “Please, Caleb. I need you to hold me. Banish the painful memories and replace them with new ones.”
The absolute lack of hope in his eyes gutted her. Had she done this to him? She’d been afraid before, not wanting to place Caleb in the untenable position of having to ever hurt her again. But now, they were free. There was no threat. No one to control either of them ever again.
“Come here,” she choked out, holding up her arms to him.
With a tortured sound of agony, he enfolded her in his embrace, wrapping his arms so tightly around her that she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe. Not another breath unless she shared it with him.
“I’m so sorry, Ramie,” Caleb said brokenly. “I’m so damn sorry.”
“Shhh, Caleb,” she soothed, clutching his head to her breasts where his cheek rested. “Never be sorry for killing that son of a bitch.”
“I’m not sorry I killed him,” Caleb said coldly. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”
“I’m sorry for what he did to us,” Ramie gently corrected.
She pulled him closer to her, resting her cheek atop his hair as she stroked his face with her hand.
“I love you,” she said tenderly.
He went rigid against her and would have bolted back up, but she caught him and held him tightly to her.
He found her wrists with his hands and carefully pulled himself away from her, holding her wrists on either side of her. His eyes glittered and his jaw was pulled tight as he stared down at her.
“Don’t say something you don’t mean,” he said hoarsely.
She smiled, allowing the full light of her love to shine. So he could see it. Feel it.
“I’m not in the habit of telling guys I love them,” she said wryly. “And I have to say I don’t like it much. So if you could just say I love you back then I’d feel much better.”
He stared at her in absolute befuddlement.
“Do you forget what I did to you? That I took a knife to you and cut you to ribbons? That I could have killed you?”
Tears glittered brightly in his eyes and he didn’t even make an attempt to call them back. They trickled down the hard line of his jaw. There was so much grief and regret in his eyes that she wondered if he’d truly ever heal after such a grievous injury to his soul.
No, she wouldn’t think like that. Love could heal all things. She had to believe that.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she corrected firmly. “It took me longer than I’d have liked to figure that out. But given that I know well what it’s like to be controlled by another, I could hardly blame you for the same thing that has happened to me.”
He looked stunned. “You knew it wasn’t me controlling my actions before?. . .?before we got to you?”
She nodded, her smile a little quivery. Her chin wobbled as she herself was precariously close to tears.