Page 69 of Love Her

Which was why you had to ask him—because there was no one else you currently trusted.

Because he might know how to get you out.

“Have you ever hurt people before?”

His head tilted, and both his eyebrows rose up. “Is that why you think I know where the first aid kit is?” he asked, rocking back, and you shook your head.

“No. I’m just curious.”

And whatever he told you next—he took long enough to think about it, that you felt certain he wasn’t lying. “Only people who deserve it.”

“How do you do it?” you asked in a rush.

It might be your only chance to learn.

And this time he thought even longer before answering. “Hard enough that they don’t get to do it again.”

There was alcohol on his breath, but his eyes weren’t dangerously bright and his gaze was just thoughtful, with a tinge of appropriate concern.

Then he got out two large bandaids and strapped them across the worst of your knees—but your real wound was like an iceberg, all of the rest of your history and trauma and fear, floating unseen beneath.

Your uncle walked by, behind him this time, talking to someone else, holding a drink, noticing you noticing him across the room.

But behind him was the mantel of your fireplace, where your father kept the lighter with a long stem, and boxes full of matches.

Then the fucker didn’t die.

“I think I’m going to throw up—” I warned Rhaim.

“Hang on sec,” he said, leaving the couch, but then quickly returning to press a wastebasket into my hands.

I heaved the second I was holding it, as he sat down beside me, pulling my hair back.

“Get a lot of practice at sororities?” I asked him, the second I could breathe again, my eyes watering, as I tried to spit the taste out of my mouth.

“I didn’t go to college. I majored in life,” he said dryly.

I snorted, set the wastebasket down between my feet where I could find it again, and then just sat there, practicing breathing, as Rhaim ran a chaste hand up and down my spine—and I had a realization.

The dark itself wasn’t dangerous.

It was just who you were in the dark with.

“Do you have any mouthwash in here?” I asked him.

“No, but, hang on,” he said, this time turning the light on his phone on, as he poured me another drink. “Swish and spit,” he said, handing it over to me, before turning his flashlight off.

“Isn’t this expensive?”

“Nah,” he lied, sitting back by my side.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”

“What’d I tell you about apologizing?” he said, before shouldering me.

“Doesn’t matter—I am.”

“I like to think I would’ve noticed you didn’t like the dark eventually, seeing as I intend on sleeping with you a lot.”

---