Page 151 of Never Tell Secrets
My chest ached at the sight of him. His sleeves were rolled up, his hand was bandaged and circles ringed his eyes telling me hadn’t slept.
He studied me with that dark haunted gaze I thought I’d seen the last of. I hated that it was back, I hated more that it was directed at me. I was practically naked in his friend's bed. Old Alfie would be furious, what new Alfie would do I didn’t know.
“Would you like to talk before, during or after your bath?”
I blinked in surprise. That hadn’t been what I’d expected him to say. His gaze dropped to my chest and I pulled the duvet higher, covering my cleavage. A touch of anger shone in his eyes and I fought the urge to apologise. He had no right to be angry. No right to any part of me again.
“I’d like you to get out, Alfie.”
If my words hurt him, he didn’t show it. “I will but first we need to talk. So, before, during or after?”
I gritted my teeth, fury percolating in my gut. The sheer audacity he had to walk in here and take charge was galling, but I didn’t need to wonder why he was doing it. Once, I would have spent too much time trying to understand his behaviour. Now, I got it. I’d had another man's hands on me. Alfie was processing that by washing it away.
As much as I wanted to tell him to drain the water and himself with it, a bath actually sounded heavenly.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I know,” he said but he didn’t budge an inch. I was too tired for this. I felt like I had gone back in time. Back to when he would do bad things and I would let him back in because he’d worn me down until I was too beaten to keep him out.
“After, then,” I sighed. “Turn your back please.”
“I need to see your body.”
I fought the urge to scream at him. He had no right. No goddamn right.
“Kal didn’t leave a mark on me, Alfie. I understand why you want to see for yourself but I can’t be naked in front of you rightnow.”Not after I found out you’ve been filming every second of my life for the last two and a half years.
After a moment, he gave me a stiff nod and turned his back. His fists clenched, his shoulders tense.
I headed for the bathroom, grabbing my clothes on the way. They weren’t fresh but they would do.
I brushed my teeth first, keeping my eyes down, unable to face my reflection. I didn’t want to see the same haunted look in my eyes that I’d seen in Alfie’s.
The bath was a perfect temperature, the bubbles high and hiding my body from my own eyes. I felt so beaten up, body and soul, that I was almost surprised I wasn’t covered in bruises and grazed knees. I sank into the clawfoot tub, relishing the heat on my tense muscles.
I scrubbed my skin clean, washing the dirt and damage away but inside I still felt thick and heavy, as if Alfie had wrenched my jaws open and filled me with tar.
Sluggish, I turned on the showerhead to wash my hair. I came to a stop when I realised my hair was still bound.
My stomach turned over. Alfie had seen it and he knew what it meant. He hadn’t mentioned it, not yet anyway. He hadn’t lost his mind in anger and jealousy. I didn’t know what to make of that.
I tugged on the rope, trying to find the end so I could undo it but the complex twists and turns didn’t make sense to me. I pulled on the loops but I was only making it worse.
Come on, come on…
What had been exciting last night, this morning felt dirty. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like evidence of another man on me. A frustrated sob escaped me and just when I was on the verge of cutting my hair off all over again, I heard a soft knock on the door behind me.
“Lo?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I felt another tsunami wave of pain rise up before me, threatening to drown me. Alfie had thrown me overboard and now dangled the life raft in front of me. I hated him for it.
“Lo, I’m coming in.”
I should tell him to go to hell but I didn’t. We were past that petty shit now. I wrapped my arms over my breasts as the door opened behind me. Without a word he knelt behind me and began working the rope out of my hair. I shivered as his fingers brushed my shoulders, the nape of my neck.
“You’ll get your bandage wet,” I whispered, my voice weary.
“I don’t care, baby.”
