Page 61 of The Player
“Would you do that?” I peered up at him as he stepped backwards into the shower. Our hands joined as he led me forward like I was the most precious thing in the world. His eyes were kind, his face empathetic, and his hand squeezed mine as if he was reminding me that he was here. It was just us. No one else.
“I’d do anything for you, Bee.”
My heart melted, and I moved to stand under the hot water with him, wrapping my arms around him as we stood together under the stream, cleansing our skin, washing away the evidence of our sins. Filth could be cleaned, but the scars we held deep inside us would take a lot more than a hot, steaming shower to fix. Cuts that he’d given us that ran deep and would hurt for a long time to come, but the love I felt in this moment, it went so much deeper. Will and I had shared something that tethered us together. A link so strong it couldn’t be broken. There was no Bryony without Will. No Will without Bryony. That’s how it was now. We weren’t the same people we once were. Our trauma had bonded us, fused our lives, our souls, and now, we weren’t two people, we were two halves of a whole. Two hearts beating for one purpose, and that purpose was each other.
The water cascaded over us, but we didn’t move. The warmth of his body against mine was all I needed. The smell of his skin soothed me. Hearing his heart beat through his chest, listening to his steady breaths, it grounded me. I clung to him, and he clung to me, his face buried in my hair.
“Do you think I’ll ever get over this?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he replied, then hugged me a little tighter. “You’re strong, Bee. The strongest woman I’ve ever met. It might not feel like it now, but you will get through this. We both will. Together.”
Tears streamed down my face; silent, invisible tears that trickled freely then washed away down the drain. Emotions I couldn’t hold back spilled forth, and I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to stay in the moment, to stay here with Will, away from that room, that cell. We’d been to hell, but I was determined not to live there.
“I love you,” I whispered as I held him close, breathing him in. I whispered it so quietly I wasn’t sure he could hear me.
But then, he replied, “I love you too, Bee. Always have, always will.” And the broken, shattered pieces of my heart swelled just a little, showing that they were still working. I could still feel them. I wasn’t broken beyond all repair.
I knew then that I had to fight. Fight for the life we deserved. It’d be a long and harrowing road, but I had to walk it. I couldn’t let evil win. We’d seen the devil, played his games, and we’d lived to tell the tale. Now it was our turn to write the next chapters to our story.
We were the story masters now.
ChapterTwenty-Six
WILL
I’d never experienced anything like this before. I was hardened, a fighter. The guy who loved to love but only at arm’s length. Real feelings weren’t for me.
Why overcomplicate life when you can just have a good time?
But that had been a lie.
Because right now, it felt like I was holding my whole world in my arms.
She was strong, my Bryony. But at the moment, she felt vulnerable, fragile, and she needed me.
I needed her too.
I might play it off like it was nothing. I’d done some sick shit with my friends, running the streets of Brinton Manor. But this had been different. Our time in that basement had changed me. When you only care about yourself, when life is simple, choices become simple. You please yourself because that’s all that matters; you and your boys. Fuck the rest of the world. Do what you want. But back in that basement, I’d realised my life wasn’t mine to throw away, to be reckless with; it was hers.Iwas hers. And knowing that my decisions could have such a catastrophic effect on her affected me more than I’d ever dreamed possible. I lived for her now, not just me.
I’d meant it, when I told her I loved her. But that love wasn’t what I’d expected.
Before, if you’d asked me what love was, I’d have said ripping each other’s clothes off and the need to always be, well, fucking. Looking at that other person and thinking, ‘Yeah, they’re hot. And they’re mine.’ And I felt that, I did. But it was more than that with Bee. It was the need to protect her no matter what, even if it meant hurting myself. It was an overwhelming obsession to always be near her, breathe her in, touch her. She was an addiction, the sweetest addiction. My reason for everything, and for a guy who’d lived his life like he had no purpose, it meant everything.
Eventually, we started to clean each other, soaping our bodies, shampooing each other’s hair. I loved taking care of her like this. Worshipping her. It wasn’t sexual, it was sacred. She was mine to take care of, and I loved doing it.
Once we were finished, I wrapped a towel around her, drying her off before grabbing one for myself. Then, I led her to the bedroom, pulling her with me to lie on the soft mattress.
“My hair’s wet. It’s gonna soak the pillow,” she moaned, but she didn’t put up much of a fight.
“Do you care?”
“Not really.”
We lay together, like we’d done every night since we’d been taken, and I held her. I held her, praying she’d fall asleep quickly and forget for a while. Forget that her father wasn’t here anymore. That all of this was my fault. She shouldn’t have been taken, and now, I’d spend my whole life making it up to her. But for tonight, I just wanted her to sleep in a warm bed, feeling clean and safe, with me by her side. I might’ve been the reason she was hurting, but I wanted to be the one who took that pain away too. That’s why tomorrow, I’d hatch my revenge plan. I wanted to hunt that fucker down and bring his head to her on a spike. Slaughter the man that’d dared to shatter my girl’s world.
“What if he comes here while we’re asleep?” she asked, her voice a whisper of tense nervousness.
“He won’t. I’m not sleeping,” I assured her, kissing her head to give her some reassurance. The urge to soothe and comfort her overpowered every other emotion I felt, even the violent need for revenge that scorched my soul. “You’ll be okay, Bee. I’m here.”
