Page 48 of Receiving His Mercy
He sat up straighter. Had someone fucking hurt her?
“What else? Let’s see. I was ungrateful because I got to live in a beautiful house with expensive clothes yet never took care of anything properly. A fleck of dirt wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t speak any other languages. I was still wetting the bed at seven. And I can’t believe I just said that to you.” She went bright red.
“Caren, I want you to listen to me for a moment.” He reached out and gently took hold of her hands, squeezing them lightly. At least she seemed to be warmer now. “I don’t care about that. What I need is for you to promise that you won’t be scared of me.”
“Scared of you? Why would I be?”
“Because I feel like I’m about to fucking explode and I want to know if that’s going to frighten you.”
“Are you angry at me?” She blinked rapidly, trying to pull her hand away. But he held on tight.
“No, Goldie. I’m not fucking mad at you. But I want to hunt down your parents, lock them in a small room, and torture them the way that they tortured you for years. And that sort of thing might not seem sane and it might scare some people. I don’t want it to scare you. Because I would never harm you.”
She just gaped at him. Then, to his complete shock, she grinned.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You just . . . I mean, it’s nice of you to say that.”
Ahh, she didn’t think that he was serious. He was, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Not me being nice, Goldie. What they did to you . . . they deserve everything bad that comes their way. You said that your mother still lives in Albany, right?” Was that why she’d gone there? Why would she visit that bitch?
And did she have something to do with the bruise on Caren’s forehead?
Because if she had . . .
“Yes.”
Was she not going to tell him where she’d been?
“I’ve just been to visit her, actually.” She reached up a hand to her forehead, clearly without thought then patted at her hair frantically. “Where’s my hat?”
“It slid off, Goldie.”
He grabbed it, handing it to her. She attempted to put it back on, but he grasped hold of her hand, holding it still.
“You don’t need to put it back on, I’ve already seen the bruise and the lump.”
Caren bit her lip.
“You weren’t going to tell me that you’d hurt yourself, were you?”
“It’s really not your business, Travis.”
That might have hurt if he’d had thinner skin. Luckily, he didn’t.
“You’re still not getting it, Goldie. You are my business. Because I’m making you my business. And no, it’s not just because of Lacey. It’s not simply due to my guilt. I don’t know exactly what the rest of my reasons are, but this is just the way I feel. I think you need someone to take care of you . . . even though you’d deny that. But I want to be that person. And you’re going to let me.”
She rolled her eyes.
The brat.
“I’m going to let you, am I? Just like that?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
She winced and moved her arm.
Fuck. What else hurt? What had happened to her?
