I crane my neck and press my lips to his, holding them there for a few seconds before pulling back just enough so I can look into his eyes. They’ve moved away from my forehead and are staring right at me as he blinks and tries to focus.
“It’s me,” I whisper against his mouth, closing my eyes and praying that I can get through to him. “It’s Shelby. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me.”
I repeat myself quietly over and over, doing whatever I can to soothe him with words since I can’t do it with my hands.
He starts to loosen his hold on my wrists and I open my eyes to find him still looking at me, this time much clearer than before, but still wary.
“It’s me,” I whisper one last time, tipping my chin down to rest my forehead against his lips, my heart finally beating normally instead of racing inside my chest.
“Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath against my forehead as he finally lets go of my arms.
I quickly bring them down and press them to his cheeks as I move my head back and look up into his eyes.
“I’m sorry. Jesus Christ I’m so sorry,” he curses brokenly, his eyes rapidly moving all over my face as I rub my thumbs against his cheeks.
One of his hands glides over my shoulder and down my side, sliding under my back and pulling me against him as he continues to look at me and check to make sure I’m okay.
“I’m fine. I’m okay,” I reassure him quietly. “Are you all right?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly and shifts his body on top of mine, making me suddenly aware of how little clothing I’m wearing and how good it feels to have him on top of me now that I know he’s okay and wide awake. My legs part just enough for him to fit perfectly between my thighs as I bring my knees up, hugging them on either side of his hips and cradling him against me.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, ignoring my question about his own well-being.
I can see the worry clouding his eyes as he stares at me, his arms tightening around my body, holding me close to reassure himself that I’m okay. I shake my head as my thumb traces gently across the thin, raised scar that runs down the side of his face, wishing more than anything that my thumb were a magic eraser that could take away all of the marks those animals left behind on his skin and in his memories.
“Why were you on the floor? Did you fall off the cot?”
Even as I ask him this question, I know the answer. When I first walked into the room, the cot he was lying next to still had the folded squares of blankets and sheets with a pillow resting on top of the pile, right in the middle of it. The cot and extra bedding are kept in here for whenever we have a sick horse or one in labor and a stable hand needs to stay close by to keep an eye on things. A cot that Eli obviously never touched when he came in this room.
“I just…I don’t sleep well in a bed. I’m not used to having a mattress and blankets and I know it sounds stupid, but it’s easier to fall asleep on the hard ground,” he explains, breaking my heart in two, thinking about the conditions he lived in for five years. “I couldn’t get comfortable at my sister’s house tonight and I couldn’t sleep. I went for a drive and wound up here.”
Gone is the urge to fight with him and the need to do whatever I can to push him away. All I want to do right now is sooth his pain, any way that I can. Replace all of his bad memories with good ones, and selfishly, let him do the same for me.
“I hate what they did to you,” I murmur. “I hate that you have these memories and you can’t get rid of them. I don’t want you to hurt like this.”
His arm suddenly slides out from behind my back and I wonder if I said something wrong. I wonder if he thinks I pity him or I feel sorry for him. I never want him to think that. I never want him to think he’s anything less than a strong, amazing man who went through hell and back. Before I can get those words out, apologize for saying something stupid, I feel his palm slide across my hip and down my bare thigh. My eyes squeeze closed when I realize where his hand is going and I try to stifle a sob when I feel his palm run down the length of my left thigh.
“Don’t,” I warn him, my voice cracking with the words and my eyes stinging with tears. “Please, don’t look at it.”
His hand continues to move gently, up and down the scarred flesh, and I force myself to open my eyes even though I’d rather see anything right now than the disgusted look I know will be on his face.
I can’t stop the sob that flies out of my mouth when he pushes his body slightly away from mine and I watch him look down at his hand still moving across my thigh. There’s no disgust, there’s no wince of revulsion, there’s just Eli, staring softly down at my mangled leg like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“I don’t want you to hurt either, Shelby,” he tells me softly as I feel a tear escape from my eye and drip down to my ear. “I don’t want to talk about my shit or those stupid fucking dreams. Not right now. Right now, I just want to be here with you and forget about everything else.”
His eyes come up to meet mine while his hand continues to caress my thigh, sliding it behind my leg just enough to pull it up and hook it over his hip.
“I just want to forget,” he whispers.
I should push him away. I should get out from underneath his body, come up with something to say to him to get him to walk away, get him to be angry with me and not want anything to do with me, but I can’t. I’m completely powerless when he’s touching me like this and looking at me like this and speaking to me so softly, begging me to help him forget the memories that haunt him while at the same time wanting him to take away my own nightmares.
I should push him away…but I can’t. I won’t. I would do anything for Eli, anything he asks, and that includes breaking myself wide open and letting him see all of my scars, inside and out.
Chapter 15
Eli
The nightmare still sits right at the edge of my mind. It reaches its claws out to try and pull me back in, make me angry, make me hurt, and make me lash out, but touching Shelby, looking down into her emerald green eyes, and having her soft, warm body underneath mine, pushes away the angry voices, the cut of a knife, the burn of a cigar, the smell of death, and the punch of a fist farther away until all that’s left is her.
Her hands on my face.
Her breath on my lips.
Her voice in my ear.
Her sweet smell of peaches in my nose.
I bury my face into the side of her neck and breathe deep, forgetting about the smell of packed dirt, soiled clothes, grimy skin, and death.
My hand continues gently caressing Shelby’s scarred thigh and I hear her sharp intake of breath and feel her swallow nervously against my lips as I press them to her throat.