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Of course I realized it was better than bleeding empathy and sorrowful noises because that would only make it harder to hold together what I had left.
“Then ask him to lift the fabric,” Win stated, pushing the hand away from me.
“I did.”
Oh, I hadn’t heard. Sometimes my own thoughts were just too loud.
“Then ask again,” Win rumbled. “Ask as many times as you have to before putting your hands where they do not belong.”
The photographer backed away, eyes not meeting mine. “Please expose the bruise on your thigh.”
I reached for the black cotton, ashamed when my fingers fumbled.
“Do you want me to help you, angel?” Win’s voice was buttery soft with infinite patience.
I nodded.
“I’ll touch you now,” he murmured.
I nodded again.
His fingers were so warm compared to my skin, which felt frosty and brittle. I sighed a little, body swaying closer as he tugged the leg of the boxer brief up to expose the large bruise Oskar had pinched on my leg.
The camera clicked so many times I didn’t bother to count, and then the photographer turned away to tuck the camera into her bag. “We’re done.”
Win’s hand smoothed the fabric over my leg, withdrawing his touch.
A strangled sound echoed in my throat, vulnerability ripping me in two. “Please don’t go.”
He was there instantly, tugging me against his chest, enclosing his body around mine, and turning so his body blockaded me from the rest of the room.
Folding my arms between our bodies, I inhaled deep, the first full breath I’d managed in what felt like so long.
“I’m yours.” He promised. “Yours and yours alone.”
The door to the room clicked, signaling we were blissfully alone. The first time in hours.
“You did so well,” he praised, stroking the back of my hair. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but you were so strong.”
I let out a whimper, pushing even closer against him, ignoring the way my body ached and protested.
We didn’t say anything else, the blanket of his presence wrapping me in comfort and giving me a sense of reprieve. It was the first time I’d ever had anyone comfort meafter. The first time anyone ever offered reassurance.
Maybe that was why I folded like a house of cards when Oskar would offer affection, apologize, and beg. He always swore it was the last time, and I always hoped it would be.
“I love you,” I chanted, whispering it over and over into his chest, hoping the words would absorb into his skin and imprint on his heart.
“Baby,” he groaned. “You are the literal reason for the breath in my lungs.”
I swallowed, my throat so dry it was painful, eyes gritty despite the tears they shed. Lifting my head from his chest, I blinked at him, heart skipping when the gold flecks in his stare softened. “Even now?”
“Of course. You’re standing here in your underwear,” he teased, wagging his eyebrows salaciously.
A laugh bubbled out of me. And it made me sob because, even after everything, he could still make me smile.
My smile faded. “I thought the sun didn’t like the rain.”
His hands swallowed up the back of my head, cradling it like I was the finest of gems. “I love the rain. When you put it with the sun, you get a rainbow.”
