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Swallowing, she whispered, "He broke my legs."
David gasped, horrified at the words she had spoken. "What?" he roared.
She flinched, dropping to the sofa and pulling her hands up to her face.
His ragged breathing filled the air, and he stood staring at her, his chest heaving as he watched her. His eyes rounded as her reaction sunk into his brain.
He swallowed once and slowly walked forward until he stood directly in front of her. Softening his voice, he pleaded, "Tell me. Please."
Tucking her hair behind her ears with shaky fingers, then wiping her nose, she lifted her eyes to David’s. "When I left your apartment, he was still there in the parking lot—waiting. He jumped out of his car and ordered me into it and took me to his place out in the country. When we got there, a judge was waiting for us, and we were married then and there." Biting her quivering lower lip, she wiped the fresh tears from her eyes. "He dragged me upstairs to his bedroom, raped me and beat me … After he broke both my legs, he said that would ensure I didn't go anywhere for a long while. I wasn’t able to walk for four months. In the meantime, he hired nurses to come in and take care of me. Rehab was brutal, and I guess a part of me didn't care if I got better. The only good thing about not being able to walk was that he left me alone. I only saw him about three times during that four-month period, and that was a blessing.”
* * *
David wanted to roar at the heavens and smash everything in his sight. The anger he felt was so powerful, he could easily kill Nicholas with his bare hands and not regret it for a moment. How does a person deal with this anger, this rage? He dragged his hands through his hair and pulled on it, attempting to bring himself back to a reality he could deal with. And then he bellowed out a cry so powerful; it surprised even him. When his throat felt raw, he fell to his knees and wept. He wept for what she had gone through. He wept for what could have been. He wept for the pain and suffering they both had felt.
Kiera dropped down to her knees and cradled his head in her hands, pulling him to her breast and rubbing his back—whispering soft words of placation. She ran her hands through his hair. He heard her breathe in his scent, then lay her head on his. Both of them let the tears flow freely.
Composing himself, and wiping away his tears, he looked into her beautiful, tormented eyes. For the first time, he noticed the lines etched by time and pain and sorrow. His eyes zoned in on a fine scar along her hairline, and he smoothed it with his thumb, the back of his fingers brushing against her face. His hands trembling, he trailed his fingers through her hair and pulled her close. Breathing deeply into her hair, he desperately tried to control his emotions. Kiera whispered her fingers along his full lips, and he froze. Their eyes locked. He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips over hers—once, twice, and a third time. She whimpered, and that was all the permission he needed; delving his tongue into her mouth, he could finally taste her fully.
The kiss quickly turned passionate, each needing to make up for lost time—to show their true feelings without the need for words. Kiera gently pushed him to his back, straddling his body with her legs. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and squeezed her to him.
She broke the kiss and sat back, still straddling him. She looked down at him and smiled, as her fingers slowly began to unbutton his shirt. Watching the emotions play over her face—each button that came undone deepened the color of her eyes from the bright, vibrant hazel to a deeper shade of brown. Simply beautiful.
His hands stilled hers, their eyes locked and held. He swallowed the dryness from his throat. “Not like this. I … can’t.” She bit her lip, but he continued, “I mean, I can, but I don’t want to do this now. Things are too … raw.”
6
That hurt, but he was right. Things were different for him than they were for her; she’d had all this time, these thirty years, to think about him and dream of the day they could be together again, even though she never believed it would happen. He’d had thirty years to think she’d thrown him away.
She smoothed her hands over his face, the Vandyke he wore was soft to touch, but not as soft as his hair. The texture of something in between. Mostly gray in color, the few strands of dark reminded her of the young man she’d fallen in love with. This man here before her was filled out in the most delicious way; his chiseled jaw was classic and so handsome. His deep blue eyes so intelligent, and, yet, they held the hurt of many years. She softly smiled at him, then moved to sit alongside him. Scooting back to rest her back against the edge of the sofa, she watched him gracefully sit up and twist to sit next to her.
“I’m sorry if I smell stale; I was sweating at my first job this morning.”
Shaking her head, she replied, “I didn’t notice any stale smell.” He smirked. “Honest.”
Nodding his head, he let out a long breath. Looking straight ahead, he wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and tilted his face up to the ceiling. “I’ve dreamed of this over the years, Kiera. You coming back and telling me you’re sorry. But I guess I never really believed it would happen.” His hand dropped, and his face turned to her. “Now, I’m not sure what to do.”
“I know.” She watched his eyes, so many emotions floating through them. It was exhausting. “I’ve dreamed of it, too, but my mom told me you’d married and I thought you’d moved on and I needed to do the same.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I never stopped thinking about you. Wondering if you were happy.”
The silence stretched through into a few minutes, before the hard floor was too much for her. She struggled to get up, David sweetly offering his hands for assistance.
His voice tightened. “You didn’t fully recover.” It was a statement, not a question.
Shrugging, she awkwardly stretched as she stood, then sat on the sofa, just at his shoulder. He turned and caught her eyes with his. “No. I didn’t apply myself in therapy, much to Nicholas’ irritation.”
His lips turned into a frown, then a straight line as his jaw tightened. She laid her hand on his shoulder. “It’s over now,” she consoled.
His roughened voice was barely above a whisper when he responded, “It’s over for you; it’s just beginning for me.”
Tears gathered in his eyes, and he swiftly swiped them away. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. “Let’s go over your new security system and call it a night.”
Nodding, she stood and smoothed her hands down her thighs, more to dry her damp palms than settle her clothing. David stood at his full height, which put him several inches taller than she. He slowly pulled her hands into his and squeezed them gently. “We’ll take this slow, Kiera; I’m not pushing you away, I’m trying to get a grip on it all.”
Squeezing back, she softly smiled. “I’ll hold you to it.”
* * *
Working to keep his anger in check as he watched Kiera learn how to work her new security system was by far the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He watched her with a new set of eyes. She had fine scars on the back of her hands, faint and old, but they caught the light when her hands whispered over the keyboard of her computer, typing in her name and password information. The pinky on her right hand crooked to the right at the last knuckle. She often stopped typing to fist and flex her hands. His emotions went from sympathy to ferocious anger in a split second.
