Page 115 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

She lifts my hand to her mouth and kisses where I'm not injured. "I knew you'd come for me."

I pull her hand toward me to kiss her fingers in return. "Always."

Chapter 36

LONDYN

WE FINALLY MAKE IT TO a hotel around 1:00 AM, and I'm clinging to Sean's hand like it's now an extension of mine. Have I really been holding on all night? I started holding it in the car and then refused to let go, even when the ER doctors wanted to give me a CT scan. I reluctantly released Sean, then immediately took his hand again when the scan was done. Despite my clinginess, he hasn't once tried to pull away.

Thankfully, I don't have a concussion or any permanent bodily trauma, only a collection of hard bumps and bruises and scrapes.

And new memories to keep me up at night.

As Sean closes the door and flips the metal security latch, I glance at his injured hand, the one I'm not holding. There'sa stark white bandage wrapped around it, contrasting against his tan skin. Seeing that really hurts something inside me. His knuckles got scraped raw when he broke my fall and I know his back was strained. Yet, he made that sacrifice without hesitation and hasn't winced or complained about his injuries once. He must be hurting, but his expression gives nothing away.

He's only been holding my hand softly and gazing at me with that sweet, handsome smirk of his.

Just a few weeks ago, I couldn't imagine letting any man get this close. Now I can't imagine surviving without his palm pressed against mine, our fingers woven together so tightly I'm not sure where he ends and I begin.

Maybe that's what love is: two people so entangled that separation feels like losing limbs.

Neither of us speaks as we stand in the entryway, gazing at each other. We don't even turn to check out our temporary home; I only want to look at him.

I wonder if I should be a nervous wreck. I mean, here we are at a hotel because it's not safe to be in my apartment; we don't know where The Director is or if he'll try to come for me again. I was kidnapped and battered just hours ago, which was all my fears coming true. And yet… I'm completely calm. Probably a bit hollow. The adrenaline that kept me fighting through The Director's touch, through the knife pressed to my throat, through the desperate struggle in that SUV… it's gone. My bodyfeels disconnected now, like I'm steering it remotely, watching myself through security camera footage.

But Sean's thumb making slow circles on my knuckles keeps me grounded. I know with certainty that whatever comes next, he'll be here holding my hand. We'll face it together.

"Did those meds kick in?" he finally asks, and I realize we've been standing here, just gazing at each other, for probably ten minutes.

I glance down at the shopping bag I'm holding in my other hand. We made a stop to pick up prescriptions, toiletries, and also clothes so we have something to wear. "Oh… yeah. Less pain. Still fuzzy, though." I squeeze his hand lightly. "Do you need something? At least some pain pills?"

"I'm alright."

We continue to hover, neither of us moving deeper into the two-bedroom suite. Sean is still stroking my hand, each pass of his thumb soothing another knot of tension from my shoulders. His eyes are studying my face, reading me as easily as he always does.

"My head hurts," I whisper, because it's easier than saying anything else.

Yes, my head really hurts, and I feel so groggy I don't remember much from the car ride with The Director. But I also I can't yet find the words to talk about how seeing The Director againcracked open parts of me I'd spent six years trying to seal shut. And I can't yet admit that without Sean's steady presence, I might be shattering into pieces.

But there's something else beneath this new trauma. A thought and some, I don't know, epiphany I can't yet bring to the surface.

I also want to tell Sean I love him, but I'm scared.

It's that simple.

"The doctor said to rest," he says. "You can take another dose of the pain meds if it gets worse. Come on. Let's get you settled."

I nod and even that small movement makes my head throb. More meds would probably be good. Reluctantly, I release Sean's hand.

"Wait here," he tells me, then he wander off to start checking out the room. I'm not sure if he's looking for cameras or if anyone can access the windows, but it's comforting how he's 'securing the room.'

While he does, I finally glance around our suite. I told Sean he didn't need to get such a pricey room, but he insisted, saying I should be as comfortable as possible.

It's everything I'd expect from a five-star hotel. The colors are crisp white and tan. There's a small sitting area with a plush white couch and TV. Beyond that, there are two bedroomsand bathrooms. It even has a small kitchenette tucked in the corner with marble countertops. It's pretty much an apartment; actually, I think it's way bigger than mine.

Sean returns to where I am at the door and he takes the bag I'm holding. He starts separating items—mine and his. When he's done making piles, he gathers my stuff and walks to one of the rooms. Something about seeing our stuff separated and moved apart gives me an itchy, uncomfortable feeling in my chest, so I grab his pile and follow silently.

He sets my things on the bed and then turns. He smiles when he sees what I'm carrying and offers to take it from me.

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