“I know.”
“When I woke up, it was like I’d been turned inside out. I was nothing but pain. The physical pain subsided, eventually. But in some ways that was worse. Not having my body hurt.”
Oh, man. I know where she’s going with this.
Because I’ve been there.
Only she doesn’t know that.
“Because then all that was left was the pain in my mind. And that was a different kind of agony. Worse.”
I squeeze her gently. I have to. If I don’t hold on, I’ll fall off the edge of the world.
She’s giving words to my pain. My madness. Four years ago, she wasn’t the only one those assholes destroyed, but she doesn’t know that.
And I can’t tell her.
My skin erupts into a furious tingle, as if my blood’s trying to escape but hits the wall of skin and can’t. That same mind that contains all the insanity of being brutalized is the one that manages to love her, too. I’m ten thousand Drews inside a single body right now.
And only one of me can listen to her.
“Nothing I thought about stopped the intrusions,” she whispers. Her breathing is even, and she’s resting against me, skin to skin. Trust. She’s trusting me. Lindsay is opening herself to me. She just gave me her body. Invited me to share it. Welcomed me into her so we could find pieces of ourselves we lost four years ago.
Now she’s inviting me into her heart. Into her mind.
Into that inner space where we protect our core.
I don’t take this lightly.
I am honored.
“Nothing.”
I make a sound of comfort. I don’t know what to say.
“They medicated me into oblivion.” She snorts. “I didn’t care. It was easier to take the little cup of pills twice a day than to argue. Easier to crawl into bed and sleep. Even though I had bad dreams.” She shivers. I absorb all her pain. I take in her memories.
It hurts.
It heals.
I don’t have a choice.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, rubbing her shoulder, staring at the moon. If I look at her, I might lose the pieces of myself I just found.
“And so,” she continues, breathless now. It’s as if she’s relieved to finally talk. I close my eyes and take in the way air passes through her throat. When she speaks, the vibration of her voice touches every cell in me.
“And so I just lived like I was hollow. Insert medication. Hope it dulled the memories. Wait.” She sits up, eyes finding mine. They’re impossibly wide, big and pleading, needing more of me. “Do you know what that’s like?”
Yes.
“No,” I lie. “I can’t imagine.”
“The hardest part was thinking you had let them hurt me. Or worse – that you were in on it.”
That snaps me out of my own reactions. “For the rest of my life, until the day I die, I’ll regret that I couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t.”
“I know.”
“No, Lindsay, I don’t think you do.”
Her face morphs. Emotion flickers in ten thousand licks across the fine bones of her face. The moon conspires against me, giving her a grey shadow as clouds cover the light, making her eerie. Dangerous.
My heart seizes.
“You cannot fathom how hard it was to be drugged and -- ” Helpless.
I cannot say that fucking word.
“ -- and unable to stop them.”
“I can now. Now that I know the truth. They hurt you too, Drew.”
I jerk. What’s she implying? Does she know the full truth?
I stay silent. Don’t give away a thing. She’ll reveal what she knows, and I can make sure I don’t tip my hand.
“They drugged you. Made it so you couldn’t stop them. And that blood on you in the picture – they beat you up, didn’t they? I know.”
I hold my breath. What else does she know? Because yes, they beat me.
But they did worse, too.
“You told me,” she continues. “I believe you. I rewatched the video.”
“You what?”
She shrugs, her breast sliding down my rib, nipple peaking. “I had to. After you told me what happened, I went online and watched it.”
“You found the video online?”
She makes a huff of laughter, a sad sound. “I have my ways, as you know.”
“I thought we’d put a stop to that,” I say tightly.
She bats at my chest. “You can’t outsmart me.”
I snort. Her eyebrows go up. She kisses me.
As her lips brush mine, I find the passion is gone. In its place there is a sense of regret. Of peace. A kind of sad acceptance that the past has damaged us, but somehow we’ve found our way back to each other. We’re scarred and battered, bruised and broken, but we’re together again.
That is its own miracle.
Bzzzz.
I groan. “My phone.” I stand, searching again for my clothes, finding the damn device and checking.
Seven a.m. staff meeting in two hours. You want me to get a suit for you? Senator Bosworth plans to be there, Gentian texts me.
I should be worried.
I’m not.
Worst case, he fires my company from covering Lindsay.
Best case, he yells at me for punching Blaine.
There is no option for being praised.