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I put her back in the chair and wheel her back to her room. It’s five a.m. I put her into the bed very slowly and carefully, as if she’s made of fine china, then I slide into bed next to her.
“I’ll tell Astrid and the kids that I can’t work out because I pulled a muscle,” she tells me.
“Instead of telling them that I’m crazy?”
She manages a little smile and rests her head on my shoulder. “I don’t want people to think badly of you.”
My heart melts, and I stroke her hair with the lightest of touches. We lie for a few minutes, and I think she’s fallen asleep, but then she rolls over and looks at me.
“Please tell me what’s been going on with you.” Her voice is soft and pleading.
I stay silent.
“What did you dream?”
Sweat plasters my hair to my scalp.
“Sometimes talking about it helps.”
I don’t believe that talking things out helps, but I promised her I’d answer her questions.
“I was back in the cabin where I grew up. I dreamed that my father was hurting you, and I was stuck to the floor and couldn’t help. Sometimes my brother is there too.”
She shudders. “I’m sorry. Have you always had bad dreams?”
“Never before. Not until my brother took you.” I’m staring at the ceiling, and something inside me is coiling tighter and tighter. “That broke something in me.”
“Please be all right, Joshua.” Her soft voice tears my heart to shreds. “I need you to be all right. You don’t have to punish yourself. I survived your brother. I’m fine now. Really. And none of it was your fault.”
I close my eyes, and the videos of her torture unspool behind my eyelids, so I open them again.
“My brother’s not the only one who hurt you.” A sick feeling curdles in my belly as I think about the things that I’ve done to her.
“Would it help if told you I forgive you for everything? I know why you are the way you are.” She snuggles into my arms and presses her face into my shoulder. “I don’t condone it, but I forgive you for it. You’re different now. You’re really trying. I’m willing to try too now, but I wonder if you’re willing to meet me halfway.”
She looks up at me questioningly, and I think I feel my heart breaking.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I thank you for it.” I remember her in that basement cell, chained up in the dark and crying out to me…and a wave of self-loathing rolls through me.
What thefuckis wrong with me? I cared about her even then. Even before she became Toy for me, then reclaimed herself as Tamara. How could I have done that to someone I cared about? I want to punish myself for torturing her. Hurt myself, scar my skin, burn the flesh from my own bones. But I can’t. I have to stay strong if I’m going to protect her.
“You can talk to me any time, you know. It’ll help. Really. When something’s bothering you, will you please tell me?”
How did this angel fly into my life? Does she even belong here? I need her goodness, but what do I bring to the table? Rot and ruin. Shouldn’t she be with someone decent and kind, someone who deserves her? “I’ll try. I’m not much of a talker when it comes to my personal feelings. It’s only since I met you that I even became aware Ihadfeelings.”
She sighs, her breath warming my neck. “Remember when you forced me to talk to you, to tell you what was bothering me? It was hard, and I hated you for it at the time, but in the end, it lifted an enormous weight from my shoulders. You helped me back then. I wish you’d let me do the same for you.”
“I’ll try,” I say, but I wonder if it’s too late. I wonder if I’m beyond redemption, beyond sanity, beyond the ability to keep the woman I love safe from all the nightmares in the world.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
TAMARA
Astrid’s kids are struggling up the ropes on the obstacle course. Joshua’s men adjusted the wooden wall so it’s at an incline rather than a sheer drop. Her eyes never leave them, and her brows pinch together.
“I don’t want to let them climb that wall,” Astrid says to me, wincing as Paul drops back. Robin reaches behind and grabs his hand and pulls him forward. Astrid runs her hands over her face. “I don’t want them to spar because they might get hurt. I want to hire a food tester to make sure their food isn’t poisoned. I don’t want to let them leave the room unless I’m with them. I used to be fine with them bicycling to their friends’ houses, and now if they’re not directly in my line of sight, I have panic attacks. How will I ever be able to let them go to college? How can I let them move into their own homes?”
I squeeze her shoulder sympathetically. “One step at time. They’re years away from college. Get comfortable with them climbing the rope ladder and being in another room. Then move on from there.”
