Page 53 of Beyond Repair: Part One

Ridge jolts back from snuggling her neck with a look of shock and rage on his face. "Why?Why?! 'Cause that was fucking terrifying, Nina! You went from being happy and relaxed to absolutely terrified and running for your life. Then we couldn't find you because of that goddamn overgrown tree. When wedidfind you, there was blood dripping from your arms and legs, and you were hyperventilating."

Leaning back a little to give Nina space, I wait for her to react, but she doesn't. Cocking her head to the side, her lips twist like she's biting the inside of her cheek. Her drying eyes ping-pong all around Ridge's angry features, yet she doesn't try to leave his embrace.

Seeming to come to a conclusion, she settles deeper into Ridge's heaving chest. "I'm sorry I scared you," Nina whispers and places a gentle kiss on the edge of his mouth. "I can—I'll tell you what happened. Y-you should know, then maybe you'll understand why it's hard for me to believe you want this. Wantme."

Ridge's jaw ticks. "Nothing you could say would ever make us want you less."

"We have always wanted you, and we always will," Trevor adds, voice thick with emotion.

Henry places a hand on her bare knee next to where he stuck a Band-Aid, and I pluck a piece of grass out of her hair. Small gestures to show we're here and we are ready to fully dive into Nina's past.

Chapter 43

Nina

Iwant to imagine the peace that settles over me is born of finally giving them all of me, and not numbness trying to protect me from possible rejection. I'm about to tell them about the worst moments of my life, yet aside from occasional trembles, I feel relaxed.

Whether fear has my emotions paralyzed or I truly am ready to give them my all, I can’t tell, but I'm not backing down now. Even if I am disassociating a little, at least I'm not a sobbing mess anymore. Embarrassment and confusion poke at me, but I push them away in hopes of moving on from what happened outside.

Willow...such a pretty name for a creature that invoked so much fear.

"Please, baby," Trevor murmurs, grabbing one of my hands. Looking at him, I see worry in the lines around his eyes and it isn't the first time I've wondered about their lives after me. I'll ask after I unleash my horrors.

I nod softly and give him a sad smile. I'm surrounded on all sides by strong men who love me, and maybe that's why it feelslike so right to open up to them. "This will be easier if I just get it all out, so please," I look around at them noting they all look a little terrified, "don't interrupt."

This is going to be hard for them, and for me, but I really do just need to power through. They exchange glances while I sniffle and grab for my glass of water. Trev narrows his eyes at me, making me pause. With a triumphant smile, he presses the cool cup to my lips. There's something about giving him control over basic things that sets me at ease.

Once I get four nods of agreement, I take a breath so deep it makes my back crack. Ridge rubs a soothing hand over my spine, and I snuggle further into him.

"So," my voice wobbles, forcing me to think about the possible consequences of what I'm about to do. "I'm going to keep this vague enough that I don't panic, okay?"

"Whatever you need, flora," Kai soothes, running his fingers through the hair on top of my head. Whether it's the use of my childhood nickname or the caress of his strong fingers, I feel incredibly grounded for what I'm about to relive.

As if my body instinctually reacts to the upcoming stressor, my eyesight blurs and my mouth turns down in forced relaxation. "After I left Ridge's house, I was pretty excited for a long walk home before the party. I thought of it like some good quiet time before my sweet sixteen and did some good thinking before..."

I clear my throat and don't dare to look up from my lap. A large part of me is worried they're only here with me now because of misplaced guilt. Kind of like my fear that my parents are obligated to put up with all my issues since I'm their daughter.

"I didn't hear the car coming, but sometimes I remember the slight squeak of the brakes that finally alerted me to someone driving by. Except he didn't drive by, and I was lost in my headthinking about—" Unbidden, my gaze flicks up and finds each of the men before flashing back down. "Doesn't matter."

I was thinking about how the past year I was starting to feel things, things my mom told me were normal for my age, but scary nonetheless, especially because I was feeling that way forfourboys. Slut shaming and push-up bras were becoming a thing in my grade, so the insecurities were dang high.

"Anyway," I grit out, knowing the next part I'll need to skim over a bit for their sakes. "He used some force, then the next thing I knew I was in the trunk of a car and zero light was shining in."

I remember hating myself for feeling thankful for being stashed in the trunk. All that space meant that Mr. M couldn't fit in there with me. "We stopped a few times, in the middle of nowhere, to teach me a lesson about crying."

Even though I preferred the safety of the trunk, I couldn't stop the sobs from exploding from my throat. I can still feel the punch to my cheek that knocked me out, and I'm definitely still disgusted with myself for how relieved I felt when I woke up in the trunkagain.

"I hoped and prayed I could stay in the trunk forever because I knew...I knew once he dragged me out of that small space that my life would be over. And it was." My words are nothing but a whisper as my thoughts slip free before I can get a handle on the things they don't need to hear.

Strangled noises snap me out of it and I quickly continue, hoping what I say next will make them forget my horrible thoughts. "Anyway, one of the times I woke up was in a basement. Moldy, damp, and cold all the time. I had a mattress and a..."A bucket.

"A what?" Henry whispers, but my ears pop and all I hear is my heartbeat. My skin tingles and I feel myself beginning to ignore the secure pressure of Ridge wrapped around me.

My throat feels raw, and I'm not sure how long I ignore Henry's unwelcome questioning, but I pick up where it matters. They don't need to know I took care of my most basic needs in a bucket that was emptied once a week.Mr. M would get so angry at the smell...

"I cooked him every meal and got a few handfuls of food a week to keep me going. I cleaned the main level daily..." My palms feel the pressure of scrubbing the floor and my back flexes at the reminder of all the lashings I got. "Sometimes I had to crawl backwards so I could mop my blood on the way to the stairs."

No!Squeezing my eyes shut, I scold myself for letting that bit of information slip. I don't want to give them too much information because that would mean more questions. And I never want them knowing how weak I was to accept that monster's help every time he offered to clean my wounds. Wounds that he inflicted.

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