AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I grabbed ahold of the edges and pulled, swooping my arms carefully around her body as I unwrapped her. Samara whooshed out a sated breath when the material was no longer bound to her skin.
Fuck…
My eyes swept over her ribs and midsection, my jaw ticking. Thanks to fucking Prim, Samara had extra bruises sprouted along her skin, right under the older ones which were still healing. Without thinking, I grabbed ahold of her waist and spun her so I could observe her back.
“Phantom—”
“I’m just looking,” I stated firmly, pleased to see the damage was more or less the same there. “Front is worse than the back. Do you have any ice packs in the freezer?”
“I should, yeah.”
I released her and immediately darted to the kitchen to double check. When I came back, Samara was on the couch, digging into her food. For someone who claimed to not be hungry, she was tearing into that cheeseburger like she hadn’t properly eaten anything in days. Hell, five bites later and all she had left were her fries.
“Just so you’re aware,” she muttered, grunting as she hobbled back to her feet, leaving her fries in the bag. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I’m not babysitting you. I’m here because I’m worried about you. You had a rough night, and then to turn around and deal with your father…”
“He isnotmy fucking father, Phantom,” she snipped at me in an icy tone. “My real dad died thirteen years ago.”
“Samara—”
“No, Phantom. I don’t want to talk about it, so just leave it alone. I’m gonna go take a shower, and then I’m going to bed. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
She winced as she spun on her heel and leisurely made her way down the hall to her bathroom, shutting the door. I let out a weak sigh and even though I knew it was a bad idea, I followed, listening carefully with my ear pressed against the wood. Once I heard the shower running, I tested the knob. My brows lifted in frank surprise when the metal twisted without the slightest bit of protest. She hadn’t locked it.
“I-I know you’re th-there, Phantom,” her broken rasp met the air, startling me. She was crying. “Come in or get out.”
There was no way in hell I was leaving now, so I quietly stepped inside and looked around, spotting a towel folded on top of the toilet lid and her phone on the counter. Her clothes were nowhere in sight.
Swallowing hard, I slowly pulled the curtain aside and found Samara sitting down in the tub, knees to her chest with the hot water steadily pelting down her back. She still had on the athletics bra and matching shorts.
“Are-are you getting in?” she asked before I could dare speak, her eyes to the floor.
“I thought you wanted me to leave.”
My heart jumped wildly in my chest when she raised her head and locked her sad, beautiful eyes on mine. “Get in before I change my mind.”
The curtain slipped out of my fingers as nerves took flight in my core, making my chest tighten with intense discomfort. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to join her because I did. The problem was me. My insecurities. The burn marks my bastard father had inflicted along the back of my shoulders and patterned down my nape and spine. Most, if not all of them were covered now but still, I didn’t want her to see. To ask all the questions I knew she'd been dying to ask since our night together at the tattoo shop. I hadn’t let her see them then either.
After a moment of consideration, I stripped out of my clothes and took in a much-needed breath before I slid the curtain back and got in. I could do this. I had to. Tonight wasn’t about me and my problems.
I helped her get to her feet when she reached out to me, just to damn near choke on the breath trapped in my lungs when her arms immediately wrapped around me, pulling me close to her.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she wept softly into my chest, crying harder as my shaky hands slid up her lower back and gently caressed her waist. As sad as it was, I was still getting used to the whole physical contact thing, especially with her. Battling my triggers had been hard, but lately things had oddly been easier with Samara around.
“I-I don’t think I can handle it. I should’ve just taken the money and ran when I had the chance.”
“Everything will be okay.” I honestly didn’t know what else to say. I mean, telling her she was right would’ve been an asshole thing to do, so I just said the first thing that came to mind and ran with it. I wasn’t good at comforting people. This was predominantly Rhett’s domain and as much as it irritated me to admit, it was somewhat Isaac’s too. They both had their peculiar ways with people and, unlike me, could naturally turn a bad situation into something virtuous, depending on the circumstances.
I had to try, though.
Things may have been fucked, but I genuinely cared about Samara.
I was in love with her.
Never in my life did I think or believe that I, of all people, would ever be capable of feeling such an emotion foranyonewhen I didn’t even know how to love myself.
“Do you trust me?”
