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Stefan didn’t seem to hear me. “They whipped you?” By his voice alone, I could tell he was horrified.
My heart started pounding heavily in my chest. “Stefan.”
“Damnit, Maura,” he snapped and pulled me to face him. His eyes bored into mine, frantic and searching. “Were you raped?”
Amelia’s screams filled my ears and I knew I was at my breaking point. “Get your fucking hand off of me!” I snarled at him as I tried to yank my arm from his grasp.
He reeled back as his hand released my wrist.
I stormed toward the bathroom, tripping in the process. My hand snapped out and grasped the doorframe to keep myself from falling.
“Maura,” Jamie called out to me just as I stepped inside.
Ignoring him, I slammed the door closed behind me. My chest rose and fell rapidly. My eyes blurred as they flooded. Using the wall for support, I walked over to the glass shower and climbed in.
Still in my dirty, bloody clothes, I turned on the water. I put my hands on the wall and stared down as the water poured over me. Blood and filth darkened the water as it swirled down the drain. I watched it wash away along with my tears.
Just for a minute. Just to take the edge off so my darkness can hold it all back again,I told myself as more tears escaped.
I needed to remove my clothes. Thinking of what it would entail to get my shirt off and the pain it would cause kept me from trying. The frustration I felt weighed against my resolve. I ached to scream, to break something, to unleash everything I’d been holding in—everything I had endured.
“Maura.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Jamie was standing just outside the shower door.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked him.
He eyed my clothes that clung to me. “You look like you’re moments from falling over.”
The thought of sitting down had crossed my mind, but I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get back up again.
His gaze felt intense and heavy and when it met mine, it was as if he could see every inch of my soul, all the damage, the lack of anything good, all the things I didn’t want him to see—what he didn’t deserve to see. Not anymore.
“Can you even lift your arms to take off your shirt?” he asked.
Fuck him. Fuck everyone else. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
“I won’t think you’re weak if you need help getting your shirt off,” he said.
I glared at him.
He sighed with his eyes shut. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” His eyes opened and locked with mine. “I’ve gotten hurt to the point of needing help and I wasn’t too proud to accept it.”
I turned to fully face him, seething. “I’m not being proud, Jamie. I don’t want your help because I don’t trust you not to use it against me.”
He stared down with a clenched jaw. Then he climbed into the shower, clothes and all. Drops of water immediately started dotting his black suit. “You need to know that what I did and what I said had nothing to do with you. It was all me. I didn’t know how to handle losing our baby and almost losing you, too. I felt like a failure, like I had no control of anything, and I wasn’t confident I could keep you safe. None of that was a good enough reason to hurt you and I’m sorry.” Remorse was sewn into his words. “I have never once thought you were weak. I was the weak one.”
His apology didn’t mend the broken trust, but it helped ease my anger toward him…some.
“Will you let me help you?” he asked.
The temptation to accept was there, but I couldn’t let myself succumb to it. “No.”
He didn’t get angry. Instead, he nodded. “I can go get Brenna for you if you’ll be more comfortable with her help.” I almost jumped on that offer, until he added, “I’ll have to take over caring for the Aryan baby, though.”
He was so lucky I didn’t have a gun on me. “A heartfelt apology followed by manipulation? Careful, Jamie, I might get whiplash.”
“You’re the one not comfortable with me around him,” he said innocently.
