Page 128 of Hard to Judge

“One more, Arlo. You’re doing so well.” His fingers slide along my nape and skate up my jaw. “You’re so strong. In your heart. In your mind. All the way through your soul.”

“Ready,” I urge.

I tighten my grip on the links of chain. Somewhere along the way, they became grounding as opposed to terrifying.I straighten from Haley, look her in the eye, see her encouragement there, and then look over my shoulder.

Hota is all I see. Not the presence of my uncle. Not the fear of his presence. Only the man I love. “Make me yours.”

He points at the largest scar across my back. I know how I got it, but I don’t even bother to think of it. I know why it’s there now. It’s there to see me through the nightmare. It’s there to prove I survived.

His sweat-slicked arm levers back.

I don’t flinch. I smile.

The hit comes, and stars shoot around my gaze. My stomach turns just a little, but I keep my focus on Hota.

He drops the flogger and lowers to his knees. The heat of his hands cup my face and I feel like I can stay like this forever, kneeling with the people I love.

“I’ve never been more proud to call you mine.” Hota presses his full lips to my mouth.

His fingers travel to mine. Slowly, he eases them from the shackles of my past and unscrews the manacle. With a small nod, Hailey releases the other. They have freed me. Or rather allowed me to free myself.

My throat goes impossibly tight. “I used to think freedom was money and independence.” I fumble to find each of their hands and hold tight to them. “Real freedom is being loved by you.”

Their foreheads meet mine. Every emotion pours between us in heady glances from one to the other. Joy. Relief. Pride. Awe. We stay kneeling together, holding hands, and awing at each other until my arms begin to shake. Actually, I’m pretty sure all of me shakes.

“Here.” Hota pulls my hand up over his shoulder, wraps his arm gently around my back, and lifts me to my feet. They tinglesomething fierce and are pretty useless for anything other than holding me upright.

Without a word, Hota scoops me into his arms, tucking me close to his chest. I feel like I’m going to break his back. He doesn’t so much as grunt as he carries me across the room and lays me on the ornately carved canopy bed.

“Drink this.” Hailey holds a straw to my lips, and I obey. The tang of lightly sweetened electrolyte water fills my mouth and soothes my throat.

When I’ve had enough, she puts it down and grabs a cool wet cloth and presses it to my face. “How are you feeling?”

I relax onto my side and let her clean my face and neck while I try to figure out exactly how I feel. “Loved.” I grin. “Also kind of helium-filled. Like my body isn’t quite attached to earth. Like I could float away at the slightest gust. And also like I’m too heavy to move my arms. I feel the ache on my skin, but I’m thankful for it and what it means.” I find Hota’s gaze from across the room. “Freedom.”

A smile stretches his mouth, and the heady feeling inside me grows.

He moves our way with a jar of vitamin C & K cream to help with swelling and bruising. I don’t bruise easily, and he didn’t hit me hard. I’m about to tell him I don’t need it, but the worry tugging at his brows keeps me quiet.

His weight on the bed behind me feels good. Even better than the ointment he skims over my back. His presence has always been my safe place. From day one, he’s protected me.

“I love you.” The words spill from my lips. I look over my shoulder and meet his intense gaze. “I always have. I always will.”

Something settles in his shoulders, and the darkness leaves his eyes.

“Always,” I say again.

His hand slips around my throat and tightens. It’s a firm, grounding weight. With a squeeze he could cut off my air. With a little time, he could end my life. He never would. No, this isn’t that. This is a hug, intimate and poignant in its simplicity.

“I was made to love you.” His thumb grazes my pulse point. “It’s an honor to be loved by you.”

Hailey sniffles, drawing both our gazes.

“Sorry.” She simultaneously smiles and cries and waves away our attention. “I’m just so happy.”

“Never be sorry for that.” Hota grabs her hand, kisses her knuckles, and then links her cold fingers with mine.

He gets back to work, caring for the marks he gave me. His fingers trail over my chest and the few spots on my arms, whispering sweet words in Japanese.

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