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The man covered in so many bruises that I could barely see the sweet, vibrant soul who’d started to change something inside of me without even trying.
“Ash,” I whispered, and then I was pushing the door open.
Chapter 12
Ash
I’d been surprisingly numb since Billy’s beating, but the sight of that single tear sliding unchecked down Aiden’s cheek threatened to do what Billy’s fists hadn’t.
Break me.
I quickly stepped back as Aiden pushed into the room, though it physically hurt to do so. It hurt in other ways, too, because I saw the brief flash of pain go through Aiden before he managed to quell it.
I could tell he wanted to touch me, but it was the last thing I wanted.
Shame curled through me as his eyes raked over me. I knew what he was seeing, since I’d catalogued my own injuries in the bathroom mirror this morning. Bruises covered both of my cheeks and the left side of my lower jaw. My lower lip was split in the middle and my left eye was nearly swollen shut. There were several dark splotches on my neck where Billy’s fingers had dug into my skin when he’d wrapped his hand around my throat. Not clearly visible were the bruises on one side of my ribs where he’d kicked me several times before finally backing off the vicious attack. He’d gone all quiet and reflective at that point and asked me why everything he’d done for me over the years hadn’t been good enough.
I’d wisely kept my mouth shut, and I hadn’t moved even a muscle until Billy had knelt next to me and helped me sit up.
“Why do you make me do this?” he’d whispered as he’d pressed his lips to my forehead.
I’d dutifully answered, “I don’t know, Billy. I’m sorry,” and then I’d let him help me to my feet. He’d led me to the bathroom so I could clean up. I’d been too unsteady on my feet to take a shower, so I’d sat down on the closed toilet seat, and when Billy had appeared a few minutes later, icepack in hand, I’d sat quietly as he’d wiped at my face with a washcloth and then held the icepack to my swollen eye. We hadn’t spoken much as he’d patched me up and when he’d led me to bed, I’d followed. The money that had been scattered all over the floor after he’d thrown the jar at the wall had been cleaned up, but I’d had enough sense not to ask where it was.
I’d expected Billy to get me settled in bed before he left, but he’d crawled in behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist in a grip that had made my already aching ribs scream in protest.
I’d managed not to make a sound.
The quieter I’d stayed, the more frustrated Billy had gotten, and when he’d finally leaned over me and reminded me I was the one who’d betrayed him, I’d quietly responded with, “You’re right, Billy. I’m sorry.”
It was a line I’d repeated a dozen more times before he’d finally let me escape the pain through sleep. When I’d woken up this morning, he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed watching me. Then he’d handed me my phone and told me to call my boss to tell her I wouldn’t be coming in anymore.
I’d done it and then I’d done everything else he’d wanted. And when he’d told me not to leave the apartment while he was at his morning meeting, I’d dutifully nodded. After that, I’d promptly responded to every playful, flirty text that had come in from him, and when he’d asked me if we were okay, the lie had been one of the easiest ones I’d ever told.
We’re good, Billy.
Aiden’s first phone call had come in at the exact same moment I’d been telling Billy we were okay, and I’d felt my breath catch at the sight of Aiden’s and my picture popping up on the screen. I hadn’t recognized myself at first in the picture Aiden had used as his contact photo in my phone.
Not the laughing eyes.
Or the wide smile.
Or the flushed skin.
A part of me had died at the sight of that picture.
At first.
But as soon as I’d let Aiden’s call go to voicemail, I’d found the picture and pulled it up again so I could look at it more closely. It was the first and only time I’d lost my composure since walking into my apartment the night before and seeing Billy holding the little jar of money that had become my entire world in the span of three weeks.
I’d allowed myself a few precious moments to grieve for the young man in that picture that I should have been all along.
That I’d sacrificed to be with Billy.
That I’d believed wasn’t good enough to measure up to Billy’s far-reaching standards.
