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Chapter Twenty-Two
Skye held the coffee she’d made in one hand, and in the other, she squeezed the key she’d gotten from his pants. Their clothes were in a pile near the door. She was going to pick them up to take them to the laundry room, but for now, she was staring straight at her past.
The memories were always there, so vivid, so scary.
“You think we’re getting out?”
“I’ve got to have hope.”
“Why?”
“Because, without it, we’re stuck here until they’re finished with us.”
Noah had been so confident they were leaving. Why would he not? He’d been unstoppable all of his life. He’d been the guy everyone looked up to.
Tears filled her eyes as another memory surfaced, this one of Noah on the floor, covered in blood and other things. They had both suffered so greatly.
When she thought of this place, she often felt guilty. Looking back, part of her had wanted to return, especially when life got too hard. People always wanted their pound of flesh, but back here, it was a dog eat dog world. There were no blurred lines, just clear need for survival.
Most of her adult life, even married to Martin, she had missed Noah.
She never wanted to admit it, not even to herself, or to anyone else. What good would it do? He’d left, and she hadn’t fought for him to stay. He’d gone, and she’d been alone.
“Skye, right now, I really fucking hate you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or anything. I didn’t want to rape you. I didn’t want to be taken, or share a room with you, or do any of that, but I fell in love with you.”
Did he still love her?
Hearing those words after he’d let her know his father was going to take a promotion, take him away from her.
Stepping into the room, she didn’t take her robe off. She sat down on the mattress, sipping at her coffee. The door was still open, and she felt the same one was open that she’d kept shut all these years on her feelings.
Wiping the fresh wave of tears from her eyes, she took a sip of her coffee.
“What are you doing in here?” Noah asked.
She looked up. He wore a pair of boxer briefs, nothing else. He also held a cup in his hand.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll grab our clothes. Do the laundry.”
He stepped into the room and sat beside her. The door to the room was still open. His pristine floors stood out against the cold cement. One door was the past, the other, the present.
What was their future? Should they even be together?
“You know, I didn’t want you to leave,” she said. “I lay in that hospital bed, and my parents, because the men had been killed, didn’t feel it was necessary for them to stay. They didn’t know I was breaking apart inside.”
“I never wanted to leave.”
“It was good that you did. We wouldn’t be who we are today without you going away, without you giving me a chance to find myself. I can’t bring myself to regret telling you to leave. It has done us good, both of us.”
“Have you found yourself?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She let out a little chuckle. “I didn’t mess around. I studied hard. I doubt it would have been the same with you around.”
“We’d have been bad news for each other,” he said, laughing. “You know, I would have loved it.”
“What do you mean?” She turned to look at him.
“I shouldn’t have left.” He took hold of her hand, and in the process, she dropped the key onto the floor. He locked their fingers together. “I didn’t want to leave. You were the only one who could understand me. You knew me. When all the layers had been pulled back and all that remained was us, we were the strong ones. We’re here, living and breathing.”
