Page 44 of Beyond Repair: Part One

Ridge steps forward and trails his fingers through her ponytail. "What he said was true, Nina girl. We want a relationship with you. All of us."

"But what—Why?"

"Careful," Trevor basically growls at her. "That sounded an awful lot like you're thinking bad about yourself."

I see the moment her attitude shifts. So when she whirls around on Trevor and stomps her little foot, I can't hold back my grin. I fucking love that she feels safe enough with us to let the old, sassy Nina out to tango.

There's my girl.

Chapter 35

Nina

Normally, the dominant stuff is a turn on, but right now it's bothering the crap out of me. "What I'm thinking," I begin while glaring at the Trevor, "is that it makes no sense why the four of you would want to be with meandshare me. That just doesn't happen.Andit would never work."

"Sure it will," Ridge interrupts. "I've been reading all about it."

This again?!"That's not real life."

"Then tell me what real life is, Nina."Oh, he's mad.

I hesitate and glance around. The four of them surround me, and since we parked down the road to surprise them, I can't just dive into the backseat of their truck. "Real life is ugly, Ridge. My life is riddled with scars and nightmares. I never sleep. I hate eating. Touch is hard, and when I close my eyes, I see monsters in the darkness."

They're silent for a moment too long, making me lose my nerve. "I have three guest rooms. You guys can stay with me until you go back home."Because they will. "Can I have the keys, please?"

I have no idea why I asked for them since, when I brush past Trevor, I steal the keys from his fingers. Their deep murmuring follows me down the road, but I can't bear to actually hear what they're saying.

Hitting the unlock button, I climb into the backseat of the truck and lean my head against the window with my chin tucked. Doors open and slam closed. Someone grabs the keys from the center console and starts the engine.

I would guess Trevor and Ridge are in the front, but I keep my eyes lowered so I don't give them the wrong idea that I'm open for conversation. They don't speak either. Not even when we pull into my driveway, and I hustle my way inside without a glance. Nobody comes to knock on my door once I lock myself in my bedroom. They don't seek me out, which I partly appreciate, but I feel like I'm crumbling on the inside and the only thing that can hold me together is them.

The truth is what they want to talk about is everything I've always dreamed of. But the sad part is I may have been able to have all four of them had I not been kidnapped and ruined for the world.

They don't deserve a broken thing like me, and it's only a matter of time before they realize that. The best thing for all of us is to get this over with as fast as possible before I get too attached. And the fastest way to accomplish our demise is by them moving in.

I'm terrified I'm already too attached to have a clean break. That's alright. I'd rather shatter time and time again than allow the guys to crack.

I was reborn in that basement and forged into a being meant to be broken.

Dinner—food—isn't my favorite thing in the world, and I guess tonight we're pairing it with a ton of tension and pouty alpha males. I have half a mind to scurry back to my room, but Henry all but begged me to come sit with them when he found me freshening up the third guest bedroom.

I'm not sure when they left to get all their stuff from the hotel since I was hiding in my room for most of the day, but their bags are all moved into the rooms they chose. It's odd seeing their stuff in my space, but I'm aware of myself enough to realize that it makes me feel astronomically better to know they aren't leaving me tonight.

There's a hint of suspicion over the fact that none of them questioned my invitation to move in for a while. If it were me, I would have denied the offer over and over again since I would feel like a burden.

Maybe they just know their worth. I can't say the same thing about myself, which is why I'm currently staring at my salad like it can save me from the awkwardness.

"Nina."

Shoot."Yeah?" I murmur, very much regretting how much I opened up earlier. Part of me is excited that I feel comfortable with the four of them, but the other part continues to remind me that being comfortable makes things complicated.

"Baby, look at me. Please," Trevor begs, but all it does is send me deeper into all my worries and sadness.

This,this, is why I don't try to be more than the meek girl everyone sees. What nobody knows and what I don't want themto know is that I have all the opinions I used to have. I wish, Ifreakingwish, I could say Iactuallybelieve there are two Ninas. The one before I was beaten and abused daily, and the one now. But that's not true in the slightest.

I'll say I'm not the same girl until someone rips the truth out of me. The truth is...I don't feel in past tense. Ilovesoftball. Ilovemaking friends. Ilovetalking.Gosh, I even love eating!I love all the things I did when I was sixteen.

"Nina, damn it!"

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