Page 37 of The Truth About Love

Finally raising my eyes to hers, I find that her terror has dissipated and turned into awestruck astonishment. Her mouth is frozen in a gasp. Her face is pale and her limbs are shaking, her breathing fleeting and erratic.

Our hands are still clasped together between us and I run my thumb back and forth over her knuckles until she begins to calm down. And when she has, I simply turn around and walk back into her bedroom. Because there’s nothing to say. My lips said all I needed to and not with words. I accept her for who she is and love her for all she is. I just hope Summer-Raine understood.

Is it too soon to love her?

Probably.

But it was obvious from the moment I saw her at the gas station that my heart would become hers someday.

It might not have been love at first sight, but it was pretty damn close. It was more like the recognition of souls. Like my soul saw hers and knew instantly that it had found its home.

It’s ten minutes later that Summer-Raine finally emerges from the closet. She’s covered her legs in gym leggings and her top half in a formfitting t-shirt that surprisingly doesn’t hide her arms.

“You’ve seen them now,” she says, shrugging.

“Yeah.”

I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, and yeah, I see her point that there’s no point concealing something that I now know to be there, but I can’t help secretly smiling. She could have easily put on a cardigan or long-sleeve tee and pretended the last twenty minutes never happened. And I’d have followed her lead. Wouldn’t have brought it up, would never have talked about it again if that’s what she wanted. It would have been the easy thing to do.

So, the fact that she’s so openly baring herself to me, leaving her scars unhidden for me to look at whenever my eyes stray that way, it’s like she’s telling me that she trusts me. And I know that that isn’t something she finds easy to do.

In fact, I’m not sure there’s anyone other than her sister who she’s ever put her trust in before. And I’d bet money I don’t have that Winter has no idea about her sister’s affinity for razor blades.

“You got any plans today?” I ask, perching on the end of her bed as she busies herself around the room.

“Not really.”

“Wanna hang out with me for a bit? I have to nip home and check on Mama, but we could go together and then go get some breakfast or something?”

I’ve never introduced a girl to Mama before. Hell, Fred’s never even met her. He’s been round the house, of course, but only when she hasn’t been in. But Summer-Raine trusted me with her pain today, so it’s only right that I trust her with mine.

An amused smile tugs at her lips. “It’s midday.”

“Lunch then.”

“Yeah, okay.”

She disappears inside her closet again and emerges with a thin cotton cardigan.

“For lunch,” she says, and I just answer her with a smile. She doesn’t need to

explain herself to me. Especially after all she’s already shown me this morning. “They’re not fresh,” she follows up so quietly I almost miss it.

“What?”

“The cuts.” She shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. “They’re old. I haven’t – haven’t, um, added to them in a while. Not since the night you took me to dinner.”

I swallow.

How do I react to that?

There is no response adequate enough that I can give to that revelation.

Because,holy shit, what a revelation it is.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispers, stepping between my open legs and running her fingers down the side of my face. “I just wanted you to know.”

I wrap my arms around her thighs and hug her tight to me, telling her with my body what I’m unable to say in words.

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