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“Is that why you brought me in here? To help talk me off the ledge?”
“I brought you in here to ask what you need to help you,” he grumbled. “It’s been one nightmare after another for days and you’ve had to deal with the brunt of it.”
“I would shoulder all the nightmares if I could.” Even if it destroyed me, if I could shield them from it all, I would.
By the angry frown that adorned his face, I was almost convinced he was a mind reader for a second. “That’s not how this works.”
“And how does this work?” I asked him.
“We shoulder it together,” he said. “So what do you need?”
“I don’t know.” If I knew how to make myself feel better, I would have done it by now.
“Would it help to talk about things, then?”
I didn’t really see the point. He knew why my hair bothered me and he’d gotten all the details this morning about Mr. X. Speaking of this morning… “Why were you so quiet this morning?”
“You’re deflecting.”
“Maybe I’d be more forthcoming if you were, too,” I shot back.
He was quiet for a moment as he clearly debated. “I was angry.”
“Because I thought it was you?”
The way he clenched his jaw gave me my answer.
I looked away and steeled myself for what I had to ask next. “You’re angry with me because I couldn’t tell the difference?”
“No.” He practically growled.
I winced a little and made myself stare back at him.
He was watching me with a hard frown. “I’m angry that he assaulted you period. Yes, it upset me that you thought it was me. Not because I’m offended you would ever think I would sneak over and be with you like that. After you had come over earlier that day and unwrapped yourself like a fucking present, I wanted to say fuck it and go to you that night. I wish I had instead of denying myself, because meanwhile that fucker…”
Knox trailed off, his face downcast. His expression was downright murderous and the muscles in his jaw ticked. I stayed quiet as he calmed himself.
“I absolutely do not fault you for thinking that it was me. It could have been. I’m upset at how much he got away with because you didn’t know.”
It took a minute to process what he’d said. “If I hadn’t thought it was you, he would have raped me right then and there. If I hadn’t thought it was you and I’d realized it was him, I would have freaked out and tried to fight. Because I thought it was you, I reacted as he’s always wanted me to react to him. Like a girlfriend who didn’t want to turn him away, but was too tired for what he wanted, and asked if we could do it the next day. Because I thought it was you, I fed into his fantasy and prevented something that would be a lot harder to come back from.”
This time he was quiet as he processed. He didn’t look happy, but he was less upset.
“I hate my hair,” I said because it was my turn to be forthcoming. “I don’t see myself when I look in the mirror. I see Shayla. You would think I would be happy to see her. It’s why I started dyeing my hair to begin with. To hold onto her. To see glimpses of her. But those small glimpses I used to get were memories. Good ones. Looking into the mirror now, all I can see are her last moments. I see her dead.” I clasped my hands together tightly in my lap. “And since I woke up this morning, I can’t stop feeling the wayhetouched me. I’ve been trying to keep busy. To move around. If I’m moving, I can try to process things without feeling him. But the moment I slow down, he takes over and I want to rip off my skin. I quite literally hate my body from head to toe and I feel trapped because of that.”
“We can change your hair. I’ll go to town tomorrow—”
“We should avoid going to town unless we absolutely need to,” I said.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “We’ll cover up all the mirrors until then.”
“I guess that solves that,” I said dryly and that made him smile a little bit more. Unfortunately, I made that smile disappear when I added, “I don’t think you’ll be able to help me with the rest. Unless you’re able to erase my memories, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop feeling him.”
He contemplated for a bit. “I can only give you new memories.”
“Only good ones, please,” I said as I lay back on the bed.
“How good do you want them?”
