Page 24 of Break the Ice
“I know.” Sometimes we text until one of us shows up anyway, or we end up on the same server running missions until we can breathe. “He needs to sleep off the concussion so the symptoms don’t get worse.”
I tug her into my side as we step back into the hall. That tight wrench returns.You upset her. Fix it.
“Back there,” I say, stopping at my bedroom door, “you… I…”
“What?”
“What did I do? Did I say something wrong?”
“Something wrong?” Her face pinches.
“Your smile… it slipped and?—”
“I’m tired, Elijah.” Hadn’t she just told me she wasn’t? “I’m discombobulated.”
“Discombobulated.”
“Like a fish out of water.”
Panic flushes cold through me. I pull her in. “You can’t go back. I won’t let you. You’ll get used to here and—” I stop at her soft, amused look. “What?”
“No matter what happens, I’m never going back there. I don’t think I could live through any more penance.” Tears surge; my arms wrap around her without thought.
“What did they do to you?” I whisper into the flyaway hairs near her temple. “You can tell me and… and maybe I can fix it.”
“Penance, Elijah. Atonement.”
“Where?” I ease back, lifting her elbows to bring her wrists into the light.
The rope-burn circles blister my vision. Ugly welts. A map of what those men did. Just the surface.
“Why?”
“They were going to betroth me. So, they had to check. The doctor had to check…”
“Fuck.” The taste of metal in my mouth.
“It’s okay.” She retreats a half-step. “It’s not that bad. It’s not?—”
“Show me.”
“Elijah…”
“I’ll decide how bad it is.” I open the door and guide her to sit on the edge of the bed. “I need to know, Finley.”
“Why?” Her lip trembles as I brace my hands on the mattress, either side of her thighs.
“Because… I left you there. I left you in that goddamn hell hole.”
“I chose to stay for my grandma, remember? She needed me and I needed to be there for her.” A tender, sad smile. “This isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”
Maybe.But when my actions lead to them?“So please, please let me try to make it better.”
“Okay.” She rests her hands on my shoulders and stands. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
The swallow that follows says it’s worse. The clench in her jaw when she peels the waistband of her black pants over her hips saysmuchworse. Every line in her body draws taut with pain.
A quiet whimper breaks free.
