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“You should rest,” he said, letting go of my hand and tucking in the blanket around me.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
He gave me a brief smile, but I could see the see the pain in his eyes. He didn’t know how to be with me. I was damaged, and when he looked at me, it was like he could see the damage. “I don’t want to do anything wrong,” he admitted. “You’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Will you hold me?” I asked.
He nodded and kicked off his shoes, coming onto the bed. I rolled on my side, and he put his arm around me, spooning me to his chest.
And I felt safe for the first time since I was taken into the garage.
“He didn’t touch me,” I said quietly. “Well, not in that way, at least. I fought back as best I could. He would have, though, if you hadn’t come when you did.”
His arm tightened around me, and he kissed the back of my head. “I never doubted you would fight.”
I knew he would be wondering and imagining the worst, and I wanted to ease his mind. The rest could come later when I felt stronger, and every smell or sound didn’t trigger a reaction.
He held me through the sunset. “You’ll be hungry,” he said, sitting up and turning on a light.
“I don’t think I can eat yet.”
“I can run you a bath,” he suggested.
“No bath,” I shuddered. “No bath, but I’ll take a shower.”
He helped me up and took me into the bathroom, turning on the water to the walk-in shower. “I’ll leave the door open and wait in the bedroom. Just call if you need me.”
I didn’t want this to become a thing between us. I didn’t want Morgan to win. “Stay,” I said softly. I turned around so my back was to him. I was wearing one of his t-shirts, and I pulled it over my head, stepping into the shower. I stood under the spray and let the water run over me, washing off Morgan’s vile touch. The tears came hard and fast, and I put my hands against the wall to hold myself up, sobbing. Deep, uncontrollable wails left me as I cried for Anwen, Mary, and Bryn.
Cried for their stolen lives.
Keir stepped into the shower, fully clothed, and gathered me into his arms. “Let it out, fy merch,” he said, rubbing my back. “Gadewch iddo fynd.” He spoke to me in Welsh. I didn’t understand what he was saying, but the sing-song pitch calmed my nerves, and my sobs eventually turned to hiccups. He turned off the water and wrapped me in a towel, leading me into the bedroom and stopping at his dresser to pull a clean shirt from a drawer. I let the towel drop and turned to face him. I needed him to see everything. He closed the space between us and laid his hand on my bruised stomach from where Morgan kicked me. “Gwn,” he said as a tear ran down his cheek. “I know.”
He moved his hand to my throat, peeling off the wet bandage, and ran his fingers over the laceration. Then his hand caressed my cheek, swollen from being slapped repeatedly. He had seen all my visible wounds, and I lived. I would live through the other wounds as well. He stripped off his wet clothes, and we lay down facing each other. We didn’t need to say anything. We already knew what each other was thinking. The pain, the worry, the sorrow. We felt it all together. But there was something else there. Something between us that wasn’t so dark and despairing. Love, strength, perseverance. We would fight for each other. The link that bonded us wasn’t broken. He kissed me on my forehead. “I love you,” he whispered. “I loved you from the first moment I saw you, and I knew you would be the end of me.”
“Not the end,” I said, smiling. “The beginning.”
We lay in each other’s arms through the night, and when I woke up the following day, Rhys had resumed his spot in the chair. He was already dressed for the day.
“You have a visitor,” he said, standing up. He handed me a t-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants. “I have clothes coming for you, but this will have to do for now.”
A part of me didn’t want my convalescence to end. I enjoyed having Rhys to myself. I pulled the shirt over my head and slipped on the pants. Both of which drowned me. “Back in bed,” he said.
I got back in, and he covered me with a blanket as I ran a hand through my tangled hair. Rhys headed downstairs and came back with Sam and William Beck. They were holding hands. William gave me a brief nod while Sam handed me a bouquet of flowers. “I’m so sorry, Navy,” he said.
“I’m all right.”
“I’ll let you two talk,” William said. “I just wanted to say sorry for everything.”
“Don’t be William. I’m happy for the both of you. Truly.”
Rhys walked him out of the room, returning a few minutes later to sit on the end of the bed. True to his word, he wasn’t leaving me alone. Sam sat down in the chair. “Are you really all right?” he asked.
“Yes. A bit bruised, but I’ll heal.”
“He could have killed you,” Sam said.
“But he didn’t,” I said, hoping he couldn’t hear the shaking in my voice.”
