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“Grey,” she whispers, her voice barely piercing the quiet of the night, her gaze locking onto mine with a weightiness that sends my pulse racing.And in that moment, I truly see her.Those vibrant eyes contain a whole universe of emotions, mirroring what I know resides deep within me.
I want to take her in my arms, shove her on top of the bar and make love to her.The urge increases as the seconds pass.But I know I can’t do it here and now.
“We need to finish cleaning up,” I gently prompt.“It’s not safe to stay out too late, even with the agents around.We can’t take any chances.”
The reminder of potential danger swiftly extinguishes the rising desire between us.
“Tomorrow, I want to learn to make a cosmopolitan,” she says, shaking off the lust that was growing between us.
“Planning on becoming a mixologist?”I ask, propping myself against the counter, my casual posture belying the tremor seizing my voice.
She mirrors my posture, our faces mere inches apart.The mischievous glimmer returns to her eyes.
“Only if I have the world’s greatest bartender as my teacher,” she playfully teases, unaware of the weight her words carry.
The charged silence returns, our eyes locked as if caught in an unspoken agreement.I can’t discern who leans in first, but suddenly, we’re so close that her warm breath brushes against my cheek.The world fades, leaving only the two of us and the deafening rhythm of my heart.I could kiss her, but if I do, my self-control won’t be able to stop me from doing something we might regret.
Yet, the moment breaks when she yawns, breaking the spell.I step back, my heart still pounding, my cheeks warm.We share an awkward laugh, and she glances at the clock.
“Let’s get you home,” I say, the words hanging in the air.I’m unsure if I can ask for more, if she will ever be ready again, or if we will find the courage to discuss those days when we were tied at the mercy of those men and her sister.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Greyson
We reach home,and Aerin casts a searching look my way.There’s a wall in her gaze, hiding something from me.
“Are you okay?”I ask.
“It’s strange, don’t you think?”she responds in a low voice as if she’s telling me a secret.
“What exactly are we talking about?”
“Us.The way our bodies crave each other’s touch, even when our minds are determined to keep a safe distance,” she explains, and I know exactly what she’s referring to because I feel it too.
The best way to evade the conversation is by saying we’re not ready for it.But maybe it’s time.We can’t keep tiptoeing around each other forever.
“While I was recovering from the surgeries”—she motions toward her legs—“I had a team of therapists helping me navigate through the events that landed me there.Even after all these years, I still have nightmares.I want to think that I haven’t had sex since the last time you and I did—I don’t count what they did to me.”
“The night before they abducted me,” I utter, as a whisper let out in the dark night, hoping no one can hear it.
Aerin nods.“Everything else feels like a terrible dream that I can’t completely erase but can compartmentalize.I filed it in a box labeled: They didn’t break me,” she says, her voice steady, even as a sad smile adorns her face.
We look at each other, but neither one of us says a word.
“Seems like I had it pretty easy, but that wasn’t the case,” she breaks the silence.“It took a team of counselors and reading books with many stories of survivors who learned how to take their lives back for me to heal.”
Aerin steps closer, bridging the gap between us.“Enya wanted to tell her story.From the moment Dad let others use her until the time she had to surrender herself to Ryan so he would protect her.Back then, I didn’t want to talk in front of a judge.Only the therapist who might be able to help me.My only goal was to get everything over with so I could come home to you and San.I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Then, why did you write the biography?”
She swallows hard.“I had a patient whose stepfather had abused her for years.She was doing so much better, and suddenly, he was killed in jail.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
Aerin bridges the gap between us, then goes to explain how her patient’s mother didn’t believe her.Her only hope was that the judge and jury would believe her.She needed an adult to protect her, but they failed.
“Those days locked in that apartment don’t define me, but the story was buried along with my sister.The authorities didn’t seem to care and were too quick to strike deals with the monsters, ignoring their crimes against us and potentially other women.That’s the reality for many victims.They silence us.”
