Page 54 of Boots & Scars

And she genuinely didn't because she didn't know cruelty. She didn't know how people really were, and I hated that this was how she had to figure it out. Her innocence, her belief in the goodness of others, had been shattered in the most brutal way possible.

"Don't fucking apologize," I growled, my voice low and fierce. "Not for this. None of this is your fault."

Everly looked up at me with those big, haunted eyes. I couldn't stand the pain I saw there, the confusion and the hurt. Without thinking, I reached out and took her face gently in my hands. Her skin was soft beneath my calloused fingers, and I could feel the warmth of her tears.

I rested my forehead against hers, half-expecting her to pull away. But she didn't flinch. If anything, she leaned into my touch, trusting me completely. Even after what she'd been through, after being violated so savagely, she still trusted me not to hurt her. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and I had to swallow past the lump in my throat.

"Come on," I said, my voice rough with emotion. "Let's get you out of these clothes and into something more comfortable."

She nodded, and I helped her to her feet. She swayed slightly, and I steadied her with a tentative hand on her waist. I didn't want to scare her, but she didn't push me away. Together, we made our way to the bedroom, each step feeling like a mile.

I led her to my bed and gently sat her on the edge.

Heading to my closet, I pulled out a shirt and handed it to her.

"Can you…" She sucked in a breath. "Can you help me?"

I nodded, clenching my teeth. Carefully, I helped remove her dress. Her body was littered with cuts and bruises, and anger sparked in me again. She didn't even have underwear, but I refused to say anything. She didn't need my anger right now.

I pulled my shirt over her head, covering her battered form.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?" I asked roughly.

She shook her head. "I just… I'm just tired," she admitted. "Please don't make me leave."

"Never," I said firmly.

She swallowed hard. "Why do people do this?" she asked, her voice small. "Why do people hurt who they're supposed to care about?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Well, sugar," I said, "either because they never cared about you in the first place or because they want to hurt you before you can hurt them."

"But I wouldn't hurt anyone," she protested, her eyes wide and earnest.

"Honey, you don't realize the power you have just by being you," I told her honestly. "And sometimes that hurts enough."

She turned that piercing gaze back on me. "Would you hurt me, Cooper?"

"Absolutely," I said without hesitation. "Not like this. Never like this. But I'd break your heart before you could break mine."

"But what if I never broke your heart?" she asked softly.

I met her eyes, my jaw tight. "Look at me," I said. "Everyone tries to break me. I just don't let anyone close enough to break my heart in the first place."

She blew out a breath, her shoulders slumping. "I feel sorry for you, Cooper Sinclaire," she murmured. "What if you miss out on the love of your life because you're too scared to love someone?"

I snorted, shaking my head. If only it were that simple. If only love didn't come with the risk of shattering into a million pieces.

"I don't think it's possible to love me, darling," I said, my voice low and rough.

"Hmm, I think you're wrong," Everly murmured, her eyes shimmering with tears. "I think you're more lovable than yourealize. You're here, aren't you? You let me borrow a T-shirt and you opened the door for me and you… you…"

Her voice broke, and she crawled into my lap, burying her crying face against my chest. I could smell the vanilla in her hair, a sweet scent that somehow cut through the heaviness of the moment. Her small frame felt fragile in my arms, and I tightened my hold, trying to give her the comfort she so desperately needed.

It was a strange feeling, holding her like this. I couldn't remember the last time I'd held someone so close, the last time anyone sought me out for comfort. Her warmth seeped into me, and for a moment, I forgot about the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice muffled against my shirt. "I know I'm crying a lot and I'm going to get snot all over your shirt and I just… I just don't want you to leave. Please don't leave me."

I frowned, not understanding why it was my presence she wanted, why she wanted me of all people to be here for her. But I couldn't deny her. I couldn't deny her anything.

---