I’m in there a second later, locking the door behind me. Moving to the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror above it. I hate what I see staring back.
I sit down on the toilet, trying to control my emotions, the urges I’m having right now.
I need to get dressed and out of here, but I can’t because I left my clothes outside when I was stripping in front of Jordan.
What was I thinking? I don’t act that way. That isn’t me.
But he makes me want to be that way. He makes me want to be something … someone, better.
And now he’s seen the hideous scars I hide, and it’s going to be too much for him. I’m going to lose him, just when I’d got him.
A gentle knock on the door. “Mia? Are you okay in there?”
“Yes.” My voice breaks. “I’ll be right out.”
Wrapping the sheet tight around my body, I slowly open the bathroom door.
Jordan is sitting on the edge of the bed wearing black boxer shorts. Nothing more.
If I wasn’t in my current messed up state, I would take my time and truly appreciate his fine body which I’m seeing for the first time in daylight.
To say he’s toned is putting it mildly. I could happily run my pinky finger along the lines of his six-pack for hours.
His eyes lift to mine. “Hey,” he says in a gentle voice. Getting to his feet, he comes over to me.
Wanting him to touch me so badly, yet afraid what it’ll do to me if he does, I sidestep him.
“Thank you … for last night.” Thank you? I couldn’t think of anything better to say? “I’m going to go to my room…”
“Wait.” His voice comes from behind me. “Don’t leave. Talk to me.”
I sigh and turn around. “What do you want to talk about?”
“This … you and me.” He gestures a hand between us. “The way you’re acting now – shutting me out. I thought after last night…” He scrubs a hand over his bed hair. “Look, I think I know why you’re acting this way … why you wouldn’t let me turn the light on last night … the scars on your bottom and thighs…”
I visibly cringe. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I can feel my traitor eyes filling with tears.
“So tell me.” He takes a step toward me, holding his hands out.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You’ve told me the other things that bastard did to you. You can tell me this. I haven’t laid judgment, and I’m not about to start. Babe, I’m here…”
I shake my head. A tear drips from my eyelashes. “Forbes didn’t do this to me.”
His face freezes. I see his fingers curl into his palm. “Who?” His word comes out slow.
Fear courses through me. I feel exposed. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing so very badly that I was dressed right now.
“Who, Mia?” I can hear the anger rising in his voice. I know he’s not angry at me, he’s angry at who hurt me.
Another tear hits my cheek. I rub it away with the back of my hand and take a gulp of air.
“Oliver. My father.”
“Your dad did this to you?” The disbelief in his voice hurts me. It makes me feel like trash.
“Yeah, well not everyone is lucky to have a great dad like yours, Jordan.” I don’t mean to sound bitter, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “My father wasn’t the caring kind of man who loved his child like yours does. Mine was a sick, cruel bastard who used to beat me whenever the feeling would take him, usually with his belt. The scars are from that.”
I yank the sheet from my body, exposing myself. I turn my back to him. I’m feeling insane levels of pain, and have absolutely no sense of anything right now. I don’t know what I’m doing or where my mind is at. I’m just doing…
“If I’d been particularly bad, as he put it, which wouldn’t take much … just leaving the cap off the milk. Or the especially bad crimes I could commit … being a minute late when returning home from school – then he’d use the metal buckle end of his belt. You know, to cause more pain and damage. Helped make his point.”
Hot tears are dripping down my face. I leave them burning my skin so that I can feel something. Because I need to feel something. Anything.
“He taunted me with knives and guns. All part of his sick games – letting me know where I stood in the food chain. I’ve lost count of the number of cracked ribs and broken bones I’ve had. Broken fingers that I’ve reset myself. Dislocated shoulders. Popped out knees from his boots stamping on them.” I pull in a hard, painful breath. “So that was my life, and now you know all of it, and I’m leaving.”
I grab the sheet, covering myself, my self-loathing possessing me like a disease. All I want is to get out of here, but Jordan is quick.
His arms come around me from behind, caging me to him. I don’t fight to leave because part of me doesn’t want to. I want his care, more than anything.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
I feel the tremble in his body. He presses his cheek to mine. My eyes close on the pain that’s burning me from the inside out.
“No, Mia,” he whispers. “No.”
The feel of his arms, his hands … his safe hands that I know would never hurt me…
I break.
Like glass shattering, I go. My legs give out, but Jordan is there, holding me. Lifting me into his arms, he carries me to the bed.