I’ve come out here in the middle of the night, after all the stable workers have gone home, hoping to see Eli sneaking around somewhere inside. I keep telling myself I’m only doing this so I can tell him once and for all to move on with his life and leave me alone, but I know that’s not true. I’m out here for one reason and one reason only—I want to get close to the fire. I want to fight with him and yell at him and feel alive and I don’t care how badly I get burned. I want to tell him I tore apart my mother’s office earlier tonight, looking for those stupid letters he claims he sent me, wondering if maybe she intercepted them and hid them from me, and tell him I didn’t find a single one. I want to see if he’ll keep going with that lie just to make me feel bad and to try and pull me back in under his spell.
It’s stupid and it’s pathetic, because I’m already under it. He cast that net around me through the television screen the day I found out he was still alive and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it. Everything inside me is at war, screaming at me to be careful, to protect him and get him as far away from me as possible, while at the same time, craving his touch and his lips on my skin and longing to hear him tell me again that he’s going to fight for me.
A loud thud sounds from behind me and down the hall, making my head jerk back to look over my shoulder in the direction it came from. I hold my breath and wait for another noise, hoping to God one of the workers isn’t still here. In my haste to get out of my bed and head to the stables, I didn’t bother throwing on a robe or covering myself up. I’m wearing a pink ribbed tank top with no bra and an old pair of gray cotton boy shorts left over from my dancing days. I’ve never walked out of the house in something like this, something that puts the scars covering my leg on full display, but it’s the middle of the night and I figured no one would be here.
My heart beats faster when I hear the sound again, followed by a strangled cry. Turning away from Ariel, I walk toward where it came from, pushing my bare feet up onto my toes as I go so I can move as quietly as possible. Stopping outside the closed tack room door in the middle of the long hall, I try to calm my racing heart as I stand here waiting for another noise. The silence on the other side of the door lasts long enough for me to wonder if I was hearing things and I drop my hand from the wood and start to move away, when a sound even louder and more painful rips from the other side and makes me jump.
Without thinking, I quickly grab the handle and fling the door open, stopping in the doorway when I see what’s inside.
With just the light of a small, antique lamp on a table in the corner of the room, I see someone lying on the hard, cement floor, curled up in a ball, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung black cargo shorts with his naked back to me. A back that is littered with long, white scars, old burn marks, and other signs of abuse that bring tears to my eyes as soon as I see them.
“NO! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”
I gasp when I hear Eli’s tortured voice shout from underneath his arms, which he has wrapped around his head. For a minute, I think he knows I’m standing here and he’s yelling at me, but I quickly realize he must be dreaming. His body starts to jerk and he curls himself up into an even tighter ball as he continues to shout and curse at something unknown.
“FUCK YOU! HIT ME AGAIN! I’M NOT TELLING YOU ANYTHING!”
Every thought I’ve had the last few days flies from my mind as I listen to him yell, watch him tuck his body in on itself, and continue to make slight jerking movements like he’s being repeatedly hit or kicked by whoever he’s dreaming about. Every irritation I have with him, every vow I made to push him away and be pissed at him for lying about those stupid letters, flies right out of my mind, knowing his dreams aren’t fantasy. They’re real, they’re memories, and even in sleep he can’t let go of what was done to him. Seeing him like this, watching him relive something so horrific and awful that he experienced every day for five years makes me forget everything. It makes me sick to my stomach that I yelled at him, pushed him, and did anything but speak to him with a soft, caring voice and shower him with the love and kindness that he missed out on for so long.
“FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
His voice comes out strangled and full of so much pain that it almost brings me to my knees. I move quickly across the room, dropping down on my knees behind him and bringing my hand up to his back, pressing it softly against his warm skin so I don’t startle him. I just want him to wake up. I want this nightmare to end. I can’t stand seeing and hearing him in so much pain.
“Eli, wake up,” I whisper softly, trying to keep the tears out of my voice as I rub my hand in small circles against his spine.
I barely get the words out when he suddenly twists his body, vaults up from the floor, and tackles me. My back slams into the cold, hard ground and I feel the wind get knocked out of me when his body falls on top of mine, pinning me to the floor. He quickly grabs my arms when I try to push against his chest, wrapping both of my wrists tightly in one hand and yanking them up over my head to hold them above me. I gasp and cough as I struggle against him until I’m finally able to drag in air. My eyes fly up to his face, and even though it’s covered in shadows from the dimly lit lamp over in the corner, I can see the whites of his wide open eyes. They stare at my forehead, unblinking and unseeing. He’s still asleep even though his eyes are open. He doesn’t see me, he doesn’t know it’s me he just took down like a linebacker, the sting from hitting the ground still radiating up my spine as I tug on my arms to try and get them free.
“Fuck you,” he growls under his breath, his eyes still staring at my head.
I know those words aren’t meant for me, but they still break something apart inside me, knowing he’s lost in a nightmare and he’s angry and hurting. I want to touch his face, slide my fingers through his hair, and make him look at me, but I still can’t get my arms free. I need to wake him up and get him to look at me and see me.
“Eli, wake up,” I whisper again. “It’s me, it’s okay.”
He growls again, low in his throat, as he pushes the full length of his body harder against mine, making it unable for me to even wiggle or move an inch to get out from under him.
The only part of my body I can move is my head. I lift it up and lean it forward until my lips are right by his and I speak softly against his mouth.
“Wake up, Eli. It’s me. It’s Shelby.”
He grunts in pain, the grip he has on my wrists getting tighter as he continues to hold them in place above my head.
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.
“It’s ugly,” she whispers softly, her voice cracking with emotion.
Pulling my mouth away from her neck, I move my head back to stare down into her eyes, watching as silent tears fall out of them, trailing down her temples and off into her hair that’s spread out on the floor behind her. I don’t want her to cry any more than I don’t want to remember that fucking dream. It pisses me off that someone has made her feel like any part of her isn’t stunning. It hurts everything inside me to see that the strength I fell in love with all those years ago has been chipped away and left her feeling embarrassed and broken.
I want her to know she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I want her to see the same beautiful strength in her scars that I do. I know we have a lot to talk about and that should probably be the first priority, but I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think…I just want to feel something other than scared and always on edge.
I move quickly, wrapping my arms around her body and pulling her with me as I get up to my knees and then twist my legs out under her until I’m sitting up with her straddling my thighs and her ankles locked together behind my lower back. With one arm wrapped tightly around her small waist, I press the palm of my free hand flat against her thigh once again and let my thumb trace gently over the scars.
“Nothing about you could ever be ugly, Shelby,” I tell her softly, my hand moving up her thigh until my fingers skirt under the edge of her tiny little gray shorts.
Her breath hitches again as I slowly inch my fingers under the cotton material, the sound different than the one previously that was filled with sadness and fear. I’d know this sound anywhere. It’s one I heard in my dreams for six years and one I would have died a thousand deaths to hear again. The tips of my fingers come in contact with bare flesh between her legs and I hear it again, the intake of breath coming from Shelby making my heart beat faster and my dick harden in my cargo shorts. This sound isn’t full of anxiety or grief. It’s a surprised gasp of want and need. I watch as her eyelids lazily drop and her lips part with a soft exhale of breath as my fingertips move with a featherlight touch over the lips of her sex.
Shelby’s hands clasp together behind my head and I lean forward until our lips are almost touching, my fingers continuing to trace over her warm, wet flesh, teasing her until she starts to squirm against me.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of this,” I whisper against her mouth. “Touching you, feeling you, wanting you…it’s the only thing that kept me going.”
She moans softly when I speak, her hips jerking forward as my fingers continue to tease. I don’t want to push her. I don’t want anything to happen that she doesn’t want or before she’s ready. Even though I can feel her need against my fin
gers and can hear it in each gasp and whimper, I want her to say the words. I want her to tell me she needs this as much as I do.
“I missed you. I missed this,” I mutter softly. “Tell me what you want, Shelby.”
Holding my fingers still against her, I move my arm from around her waist and slide my palm up her spine and under the fall of her hair against her back. Clutching a handful of it at the nape of her neck, I tug gently until her eyes open to meet mine.
“I can’t…this isn’t…we shouldn’t…”
Her protests are stuttering and weak, trailing off as she tightens her legs around my waist and shifts her hips forward again until I feel like I might go crazy by squeezing the muscles in my arms so tightly to keep myself from pushing inside her.
“I don’t give a shit about can’t or shouldn’t,” I whisper fiercely, tightening my hold on her hair before I do something stupid and plunge inside her without hearing the words just because I want it so much. “You make everything good again. Let me give you the same. Just one moment where we can forget about everything but this.”
“Tell me what you want,” I state again.
I hold my breath, moving my fingers the slightest bit to remind her what I can give her if she just says the words.
“You,” Shelby finally breathes against my mouth. “I just want you, Eli.”
She barely gets my name out before I move, pulling her mouth against mine and pushing my fingers inside her at the same time. Her lips immediately part with a gasp and I slide my tongue against hers as she rocks against my hand.
The taste of her, the feel of her…it’s like coming home and I never want it to end. Everything about this moment is so familiar I can almost fool myself into believing I didn’t spend six years without it. I can almost make myself believe I spent the last seventy-two months kissing her, touching her, making her moan and having the heat of her wrapped around my fingers instead of what actually happened. Pumping my fingers slowly in and out of her, brushing my thumb back and forth over her clit and swallowing her moans as she grinds herself against my hand, erases every thought from my mind but her.