Page 57 of Beautifully Shattered
I smirk. “It’s a pussy, Angel. I thought we’d already been over that.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not when we are talking about childbirth, it’s not.”
Shit. I guess she has a point.
“Fine. But I’m not afraid of menstrual or post-birth blood either. So get naked and get your arse in the shower.”
As my hands move to my belt, her eyes follow, watching quietly as I start stripping down.
Shedoesn’t make a move to do as I’ve demanded, and I wonder how far I can push her, given her fragile state.
“Why are you still dressed?” I ask, tugging down my fly.
“I want to wash myself.”
“Not happening. But how about you tell me why, all of a sudden, you don’t want me in the shower with you?”
She sighs dramatically, throwing her arms up, turning around on the spot like she’s searching for an escape route.
She won’t find one. There’s only one way in and out of this shitty little bungalow, and she knows it.
“Angel. Talk to me,” I demand, and she whirls around, fire blazing in those big doe eyes.
“My body isn’t the same, okay?” she snaps, her chin jutting as her voice trembles with frustration.
“Okay. I figured as much, Angel. You gave birth a week ago. You were thirty weeks pregnant. I might look it, but I’m not an idiot. I know your body’s gonna need time.” I take a step towards her, reaching down to hook my finger with hers. “And for the record, I don’t give a fuck if you’ve got stretch marks, or fucking love handles, or a jelly belly. None of that matters to me.”
Her brows shoot up at that comment.
“Yeah, I know about the jelly belly, Angel. And you know what? I don’t fucking care about anything butyou. Because I fuckingloveyou. Every messy, scarred, changed inch of you. They’re battle scars. Wear them with pride. They’re a part of you, and I love every single fucking piece of you. You’re perfect to me.”
Her lip starts to tremble as her eyes fill with tears.
“You shouldn’t. I’m a horrible person.”
I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her sentence, and I step up close, feeling the heat coming off her body.
“No, you’re not.” I run my hands down her arms, lacing our fingers together. “Now get naked. We need to get you clean, and get you some new clothes.”
She nods, staring up at me like she’s trying to work something out in her head. There’s a long beat where I think she’s going to say something, but nothing comes. Instead, she steps back, bends down, and starts unlacing her boots.
While she strips, I shoot Jols a message to arrange some new clothes for Abbey, and when she’s finally naked, I gather up the blood-soaked leathers and leave everything but her panties out on the porch for Jols to burn.
Taking Abbey’s hand as I pass, I lead her into the bathroom, and she takes over, reaching into the shower and flicking the water on, holding her hand under the stream until she gets the temperature right.
I don’t take my eyes off her as I peel off my jeans and follow her into the tight space. Moving up behind her, I press my bare chest to her bare back, and fuuuck, she melts right into me despite her earlier insecurities.
Since there’s hardly any room, I leave her to it, watching over her shoulder as she drenches her face and hair, working in the soap and shampoo to rinse away the blood. She scrubs what’s left off her hands, which is when I catch sight of grazes on her knuckles. They are small, but angry, and must fucking hurt, obviously left behind from those brutal metal weapons she wore.
Fuck. I honestly never thought she had it in her.
Never imagined she’d look at a table full of weapons and bypass the knife, and even the gun.
A gun is too quick, though. And loud. It would’ve alerted me sooner.
A knife would have been a better option. Less effort needed to do damage.
But no… she didn’t go for the easy kill. She chose the weapon that requires maximum effort. All the strength, and all the energy.
