Page 65 of Liberating Bells
I hop off the bed and prance into the bathroom to take care of business and make sure my neck is still covered. I’m pleased to find the makeup has held, and I let myself relax even more.
When I step back out into the room, Ryan is sprawled out in the bed, underneath the covers. He’s lying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head. He peeks one eye at me and gives me a lazy smile.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I can’t fight the smile off my lips as I pull back the covers and crawl next to him. “I think you just did.”
His arm shifts as I cuddle close to him. As his hand rests on my hip, he traces slow circles on my naked skin. Pressing his lips to mine softly, he flexes his arm, pulling me closer to him until we’re flush together, skin-to-skin.
“I love you, Bells.”
My heart sinks into my stomach.
There’s something so delectable about hearing those words once again from Ryan’s lips. It makes my soul sing in a way I never thought was possible. And yet…
I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way, and that knowledge dampens the thrill of the moment. But I can’t seem to help myself from basking in the euphoric sensation of his love.
I smile and lean my face against his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart. My fingers trace the outline of the scar on his stomach. Though it’s faded over the years, it’s still a distinct souvenir. Ryan shivers from my light touch, and I feel his lips on my forehead. He takes a deep breath and then exhales against me.
“I missed this. I missyou,” he whispers into the darkness, hand tightening against my skin.
I snuggle against him and press my lips to his chest. “Me too,” I say back. He makes a contented grunt, but then falls silent. I stay awake long enough to hear Ryan’s breathing even out before I fall asleep, too.
The next morning, I wake up to the bed empty beside me. My hands feel around for Ryan, but I find I’m alone. Light is streaming in through the hotel room curtains, gently illuminating the space. I peek open one eye, not fully ready to be awake yet.
Ryan is sitting in the armchair near the window. He’s got his shorts back on but no t-shirt, his skin glowing in the soft light from the window. He’s glaring at the floor with his eyebrows pulled together, his eyes distant and unyielding, fist pressed against his mouth. I sit up slightly, looking at him with concern. Is he regretting last night? Is he mad?
“Ryan?” I whisper, not managing to hide the concern of rejection lacing my tone.
He looks at me at the sound of his name, staring at me for a minute before picking something up off of his lap. I didn’t see it before. My stomach lurches into my throat when I recognize what it is.
“Want to explain what this is?”
I’m sitting up fully now, staring at the notepad that has my handwriting on it. The words I wrote to Mark glaring at me right in the face. “Where did you find that? Were you going through my things?”
Ryan scoffs and stands, tossing the notepad back on the desk. “No, I was trying to get coffee when I saw it sitting there. I was going to ignore it, but some part of my brain saw my name written on the page, so I looked. And I’m glad I did.” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not mad,” he says to me before looking up. “I just want to know the truth. Has he hurt you?”
My mind spins as I try to come up with a way out of this situation on the fly. I could lie. He wouldn’t believe me—he knows me far too well, and would see right through it—but I could try.
The guilt eats me alive, though. I know how Ryan feels about the situation with Mark; he’s made that very clear. But still, I can’t seem to force the words of denial through my lips.
With his expectant expression, I know I’m caught. My stomach churns with the realization that I have to tell him. He won’t let me out of this that easily. Not now that I’m sure the truth is written all over my face.
Maybe if I tell him and convince him that I have everything under control, he’ll drop it. He’ll let me handle everything on my own and stop pushing his way into my business.
Throwing the covers back, I crawl out of bed and walk toward Ryan. My hands shake as I grab his hand and lead him to thebathroom. I can practically feel Ryan’s confused stare on my back.
My feet find the cold tile of the bathroom, and I walk over to the shower, turning on the hot water, pulling the shower curtain across the rod, sealing in the hot water. The bathroom is already starting to steam up. The giant mirror above the sink gets foggy as the heat warms the room. Ryan’s eyebrows furrow as I turn toward him, making quick work of the shorts he’s wearing.
“What—” He tries to speak, but I place my finger over his lips. I don’t want to lose my confidence. I have to do this now. I have no choice.
I grab Ryan’s hand again as I pull back the shower curtain and step under the stream of water. The water cascades down my back, and Ryan follows behind me, sealing us into the tight space. His hands find my shoulders and trail down my skin. I know his eyes are on me, watching my every move.
The water pours down my neck, and I scrub at the makeup left from last night. Underneath the foundation and concealer, there will be the fading remnants of Mark’s fingerprints on my skin. I close my eyes, trying to steady my heartbeat. This is uncharted territory. I don’t know how he’s going to react, but I know it won’t be good.
I’m not scared of Ryan. I’ve never been scared of Ryan in my entire life. He won’t hurt me, but I know what I’m about to reveal is going to hurt him.
Slowly, I turn around. My eyes are still closed, but I open them once I know the bruise is fully visible to him. I stand there for a second, vulnerably, letting my truth show, startling at the hardness in Ryan’s facial features as he stares at the marks marring my skin. His jaw tightens as he looks at my clavicle, and my eyes start to burn with unshed tears.
