Page 194 of Saving Her

“Well, it’s not. I believe that you think Robert is still alive. And that he was the shooter last night. But I don’twantto believe it because that means I fucked up. Not just a little bit, but a whole damn lot. Believing you’re right means I risked your life and I’m not sure I can handle that.”

“How do you think I feel? You made me believe in fairy tales. You convinced me I was safe. Now I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. I need to step back and protect myself.On my own.”

He reaches for my bags, drags both from my arms to steal them inside. “Everything between us is real.” He speaks over his shoulder. “So whatever you need to figure out, you can do it in here.”

I sigh and trudge after him, stopping at the threshold. “You can’t blame me for questioning my safety, Luc.”

He dumps my bags on top of a dark wood dresser, then turns to me. “But you’re not just questioning your safety. You’re questioning me. You’re questioning all the things I’ve done to protect you. All the time we’ve spent together. All the things that happened over the past weeks. I’m only asking for you to give me a chance to redeem myself.”

I slump against the doorjamb and cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t need to redeem anything. I just need space.”

“I call bullshit. Last night you pleaded to get in my bed. Now you’re pushing me away because I fucked up.”

“No, I’m pushing you away because you made it clear last night that you won’t let me intrude upon your past despite how much you demand of mine. If anyone has been pushing it was you.”

My lips snap shut as his shoulders straighten.

I didn’t need to say that. My insecurities are meaningless in comparison to the situation with Robert. Yet I feel better for getting it off my chest. One of the millions of voices in my head has been heard.

“Is that what this is about?” He frowns. “My past isn’t a topic either one of us want to discuss.”

“I understand, but it doesn’t stop me questioning the secrecy. Maybe this is more of that self-sabotage you spoke about.” I shrug. “I don’t know. All I can say is that I feel isolated from the truth right now. And I’m not sure how to get on top of that when the one person I thought I could trust can be physically near me, yet mentally keep me at arm’s length.”

19

Luca

“Get in here,”I demand.

Her throat works over a heavy swallow. Her chin hikes the slightest bit in defense.

She’s uncomfortable. Unsettled.

We’re fuckin’ twinsies.

“No.” She pushes from the doorjamb and stands tall. “I’ll find another room.”

“Do I need to carry you over my shoulder?” I start toward her, thankful she scoots inside before I slam the door shut. “So me spilling my past will stop you feeling isolated?”

“That’s not what I’m saying… I just—” She throws her hands up in the air. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. One minute I’m in your house, in your bed, and I begin to feel happy and optimistic and whole. I started imagining a future that wasn’t a waking nightmare. And now we’re here and all those daydreams are gone, leaving me to question everything.”

She wants my secrets.

My truth.

I guess I owe her that much.

“They’re cigarette burns,” I admit, each word slicing open old wounds. “The marks all over my body aren’t from shrapnel. They’re not battle scars. Each and every spot of mutilated skin is from the burned end of a cheap roll of tobacco.”

Her face falls. Her lips part.

She stares at me for long moments, thoughts running rampant in those eyes, but no questions come out.

“How’s that for un-isolating truth?” I drawl.

She shakes her head, her forehead wrinkled in a wince. “Do I want to know who caused them?”

“Probably not. But I’ll tell you anyway.” I back away from her, moving to the bed to slump onto the mattress. “The lighter, more frequent ones are from my father. Because he liked to constantly remind me he was an asshole. Those few that are deeper came from my mom. She wasn’t as carefree about leaving abusive evidence behind, but when she did, she tended not to hold back.”

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