chapter 25
The scent of Peter fills my head as I lay in his bed. The room is warm and quiet. Peter’s arms are around me and he’s asleep. His gentle, slow, breathing makes me feel safe. It keeps away the horrors that happened tonight. They’re fighting for me to replay the memories over and over again, which is why I don’t sleep. I don’t want to close my eyes. I don’t want to remember.
I’m on my back. Peter’s arm is draped across my stomach. I’m so tired. I watch him breathe, watch his chest rise and fall. Peter came to bed with a pair of pajama pants and no shirt. My eyes trace his muscles lazily. I wonder what it must be like for him, to be down here alone, and then run into a train wreck like me.
He’s too good to me, too kind. Peter gave me his love and I threw it back in his face. He stirs and turns on his side. His hand drops to the bed between us. It makes his hips turn toward me. My eyes travel over his body, and rest on a jagged white scar at his waist. It’s nearly on his back, but not quite. Seeing it makes my stomach sink. Something happened to him. It’s not a surgical scar. It can’t be. The line looks more like a Jack-O-Lantern’s smile than anything else.
As I’m staring, Peter’s eyes open. His tired gaze meets mine. Peter blinks slowly. “Are you still up?”
“Yeah.” Now that he’s awake, I’m nervous. My life is such a mess that I feel as though there isn’t any room for him in it. But…
Peter holds open his arms and says, “Come here.” I do as he says. I scoot over to him and lay on his chest. Peter holds onto me. His body is so warm, so strong. I close my eyes and he strokes the back of my head. I moan without meaning too. He smiles. “You like that?”
“Mmmm,” I manage to reply. My mind tries to drift. Peter’s scent fills my head. My heart knows it’s where it needs to be, but my mind is at war with itself. It has a million reasons why we shouldn’t be together, a million more about how much I’ll hurt him. I mean, I’m lying with the man in his bed and have no desire to have sex. There’s nothing. No tingles, no anything.
“Stop thinking. Go to sleep.”
“What makes you think I’m—”
“Your only comment should be Mmmmm.” He rubs my head harder and I moan again. I giggle just a little. It sounds foreign to me, but not unwelcome. “That was cute. You can do that too.”
I mutter something, not thinking, and curl into him. Peter rubs my head until I drift off.
_____
When I open my eyes, I have no idea where I am. I dart upright, taking the sheet with me. Peter is next to me. He blinks himself awake. I turn and look at him. I woke him up. Again. What time is it? I glance around for a clock. “It’s after nine!” I’ve missed my morning class. I go to throw my legs over the side of the bed and get up, but Peter takes my hand.
“Stay with me.”
Nerves lace up my neck and choke me. It’s the same thing I asked him last night. I think about it, but my mind is screaming to run. I’ll ruin everything. It’s not fair, though. And last night meant so much to me. He took care of me, he protected me. If Peter hadn’t shown up, I’d be in Tennessee by now.
I smile at him. Peter smiles back.
“Okay.” I lay back down, but I feel nervous. I’m more aware of everything today, of his bed, of his cologne, of him. I try not to think about it. I try to stop the jitters that are working their way up my arms. I pull up the sheet, covering myself. “So, what do you want to do?”
Peter lifts a brow. “First, I want to tell you that I’m glad you aren’t hurt and that I think you should call the cops. But since I know you don’t want to, I think we should have some coffee.”
My face pales. Is he joking? I manage to choke out, “What?”
Peter looks at me funny, and then laughs. “No! Not like that. I mean real coffee, in real cups, and everything.” He’s still smiling. Reaching for me, Peter tucks a curl behind my ear. “What do you think?”
“It sounds good, as long as we’re being literal.” I smile, feeling shy. When I glance up at him my eyes fall on the scar by his waist.
Peter’s smile vanishes. “I forgot about that.” He rolls onto his back and covers his face with his hands and rubs. “You want to know what happened, right?”
“A little bit…”
He pushes onto his side and pulls up the sheet so I can’t see the marred skin. “I want to know some things about you.”
The way he says it makes me worried. But I want him to say whatever he’s thinking. “Go ahead and ask.”
“Last night you said something—that your ex cut you. I didn’t realize that.” Peter looks into my eyes. His fingers trail along my cheek as he speaks. “If you don’t want to talk about it—”
“There’s not much to say. He was twisted. He’d tie me up and tell me not to yell. That was the first time. It gave him a rush, I guess. I kind of thought it was fun at first. I didn’t know what he was going to do and it made my heart race faster. He used to kiss me, after he tied my hands, but then one day he didn’t. He changed things. He slid his knife down my hip and said that he’d cut me if I screamed.” My eyes dart to the side. I can’t look at Peter while I say it. “He took things further one day. His hand went down my pants while he hand the knife to my neck. It scared me. I made a sound and he…” I take a breath.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I haven’t told anyone, not really. My parents didn’t hear all of it.” I shrug. Nerves are swimming in my stomach. “Maybe telling someone will help me get over it.” Peter smiles at me, but it’s sad, like he knows what I mean. I finish the story. “He nicked me, here.” I point to my neck. There’s a scar that sits at the base of my throat, right by my collar bone.
I take a deep breath and ask, “Where’d the scar on your side come from?”
“A knife. It came from a knife.” Peter’s quiet for a moment. Then he starts telling me. “It’s from the night I proposed. I was down on one knee. Gina had her hands to her mouth, surprised, and smiling so big. She was looking at me, at the ring I held out. We were talking, saying things. She didn’t get to answer me…” His eyes glaze over while he speaks. I can almost see the memory in his eyes. “I felt a sharp pain in my side as the ring was grabbed out of my hand. Some guys had been watching us. They did it. The guy that stabbed me twisted the knife. That’s why it looks like that.”
I can’t breathe. There are tears in my eyes. “Oh, my God. Peter…”
We’re both quiet for a moment. Then Peter asks, “Want to keep going?” I don’t know why, but I nod. His eyes flick up to mine. “Are you afraid to have sex after everything that happened?”
My face flames red. My mouth opens and snaps shut again. “I want to say no. I want to say something, anything, else, but I can’t.” I look at him, wondering what I should say, if I should tell him how messed up I am. Dean broke me. I can’t imagine being normal anymore. Even when I was sitting with Peter the first day I met him, it wasn’t the way it’s supposed to be.
I smile, but my lips won’t hold it. They twitch instead. “I’m not afraid to have sex. It’s not the action, well, not totally. I’m afraid that I won’t like it. I’m afraid my mind will be stuck in the past somewhere and not here with you.
“As it is, I don’t feel like it, not really. I laid here next to you all night, and I don’t know if you know this or not, but you’re kind of hot.” He smiles. His eyes lock with mine and hold my gaze. I want to tell him everything. “I didn’t feel like it. I never seem to want more than kisses or your hands on my face. When I think about other things,” I shiver and shake my head. I press my lips together nervously and look up at him. “I can’t image feeling that way again. And last time was such a horrible mistake, how will I know? What if I make the same mistake again? What if…what if you hurt me?”
Peter takes my hand and pulls it to his lips. He kisses the center of my palm and looks into my eyes. “I will never, ever, hurt you like that.”
“How can I know that for sure? Dean didn’t start out that way, I mean—”
He holds my hand between his and looks me in the eye. “I am sure. I’m not like that. Most guys aren’t like that. That isn’t love, Sidney. He was using you.”
I can’t swallow. I nod a little too frantically. “Can you prove that you aren’t?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so, other than showing you how I feel about you. I love you. If you wanted to be with me, I’d wait for you. We don’t have to have sex, not right away, and not until you’re ready.”
I feel sick inside. I can’t look at him. My voice is weak, “I’ll never be ready.”
“Then, I’ll always be waiting.” He smiles at me and leans forward and kisses my nose. It makes me look up at him. My eyelashes flutter too much and I smile. “I’ll do anything for you, be anything you need. I just don’t want to let you go.”