Page 80 of Ashes
Her eyebrows furrowed at my sudden outburst. Her hand dropped from the doorknob and she came closer. Her hand reached for me, but I stepped back and out of reach. “Jamal…”
“I said. Get. Out,” I repeated, trembling. My short nails dug into my palm by the sheer force of how tightly I was fisting my hands.
I breathed out slowly, attempting to calm myself down, but it wasn’t working. I didn’t want to do this. I hated having to raise my voice at her, but I wasn’t ready for her toseeme. Wasn’t ready to have her look at me differently. So raising my voice and acting cold was the only way I could think of to make her leave.
Her eyes zeroed in on the raised skin that started wheremy neck met my right shoulder before our gazes met again. Ignoring my request, she placed a hand on my forearm, but I jerked away from her.
“Don’t touch me,” I warned her in a broken whisper.
Her hands fell at her side. “Why do you keep insisting on pushing me away?” she asked with a pained expression.
God, I hated this.
“Sienna,” I growled as she stepped farther toward me. I stepped back again, trying to figure out how I could hide, but the only thing I had accessible to hide them from her was the towel currently wrapped around my waist.
“Jamal, talk to me.”
There was a long silence before I spoke again.
“Sienna,” I pleaded, hoping she would stop coming closer. But my wishes were in vain.
“Jamal, what is it?”
My shoulder tensed as she halted right in front of me. I looked over her head, unable to meet her gaze. I opened my mouth to say something, but stubbornly the words refused to come out.
My heart was pounding frantically against my chest, fighting with my lungs, both competing with each other to take over.
Releasing an unsteady breath, I slowly turned around, my back now to her. A feeling of dread solidified in my gut and I looked straight ahead at the wall, trying to focus on anything but the blaring thought ricocheting in my mind.
Elle ne me regardera plus de la même manière.
My heart pounded even faster, so fast I feared it might give out. I wanted to see the expression on her face, but I was afraid to.
The room slowly filled with a suffocating silence.
I waited for her to leave, for a disgusted sound to reach my ears. But instead, her soft fingers tentatively brushed over the raised scars, her touch impossibly light. She ran the tips of her fingers from my lower back and upward until she reached the one that traveled over my shoulder.
I glanced at her over it, watching as she gently explored them, her eyes filled with sorrow as she took in the extent of the damage.
But the look on her face wasn’t one of disgust.
Or pity.
She looked at me with…
Tenderness.
“Why…” she trailed off. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was so faint, I’d barely heard her question.
“I didn’t want you to see them,” I said, my voice straining as the confession slipped out.
Her eyes met mine and her brows furrowed. “Did you think…”
I averted my gaze, closing my eyes as I faced forward again. “I didn’t want you to see how damaged I am,” I whispered, so low I hoped she hadn’t heard me.
I felt her hands leave my skin, but her lips quickly replaced them as she placed a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades.
My body trembled beneath her touch and my eyes burned at the tenderness of her gesture. It registered in a part of my being I never thought could ever be reached.
