“Hi.” His smile was boyish and almost shy when I opened the door, and I was reminded of that first day I’d met him. So much had happened between us, it seemed like forever ago.
“Hi.” I stepped back to let him in, and he looked around with interest as he entered. He gestured to the tidy side of the room—my side—and grinned.
“This is yours, I bet.” He said. A pang went through me at the innocent words.
I didn’t want to be predictable. I just wanted to be me.
“It is,” I agreed, then approached him where he stood, by the foot of the bed. “Do you... will you sit down?”
He did as I asked, not asking why. He trusted me.
I was going to trust him.
“I have to show you something.” Before I could lose my nerve, I fisted the hem of my T-shirt in palms that were damp with nerves. I saw his eyes widen as I slowly lifted the plain cotton up and over my head
My entire body began to tremble as I let my T-shirt fall to the floor. I stood in front of Alex in my jeans and my bra, more clothed than I’d been when we’d had sex.
More clothed... but infinitely more naked.
“Serena...” Alex started, his eyes skimming over me as he tried to find what it was I’d been hiding from him. I stepped closer, into the golden ring of light from the lamp, letting it illuminate the skin of my upper arms, and the lines that lay there.
I said nothing as his eyes locked in on them. Swallowing past the bitter bile that rose in my throat, I tried to control my shivering as he reached out to run fingers over the scars.
“You cut yourself?” His fingers found the raised lines where I had cut over and over, the bumpy ones where I had pulled away the scabs and bled anew. There wasn’t usually much sensation in the silvery skin, but I felt every stroke of his fingers as he explored.
“Yes.” I had thought that I would cry, but tears didn’t come.
“Why?” His eyes flicked up, burned right into mine, before he continued to explore my skin.
I wanted to flinch away, wanted to hide the raw imperfections, but he had let me see him, touch him.
I had to do the same.
“It was the only way I could get rid of the pain.” I could barely hear my own voice, but couldn’t seem to speak any louder.
“I was... abused... when I was fifteen.” My voice shook when Alex’s fingers momentarily dug into my skin. I waited, waited for the disgust to paint itself over his features.
There was none. Instead I saw... anger? Yes, barely banked anger.
And he wasn’t mad at me.
“What happened to him?” He growled. I almost collapsed with relief that he hadn’t asked me who. Suddenly needing his touch more than I needed my next breath, I straddled his lap, resting my hot cheek on his shoulder.
“Nothing.” My voice was raw, full of jagged edges of repressed pain. “I only told one person and she... she didn’t believe me. I’ve never told anyone else, until now.”
I felt Alex’s harsh exhalation against my chest, felt his biceps tighten when he clenched his hands into fists. I clung to him tightly, appreciating his fury.
He cared.
“What can I do?” The anger was there in his voice, but he was banking it... for me, I realized.
I began to shake with the intensity of everything I was feeling. I hadn’t known him very long, but the connection between us was proof that love couldn’t be measured with a calendar or a clock.
“Just hold me.” I whispered, burying my face into his neck. I felt his fingers at the clasp of my bra, and stiffened, surprised by the movement.
“Ssh.” Removing my bra, he laid me down on my bed, then pulled his own shirt off. I understood what he was about when he laid down beside me and pulled me in close, his front to my back.
The contact of our naked skin was like a tranquilizer, and I pressed back against him, craving the numbness. He pulled my navy duvet up and overtop of us, then banded one arm around my waist. His free hand settled on my breast, but there nothing sexual in the touch. It took me a second to realize that his hand was over my heart, feeling its beats slow as I gradually calmed down.
“I got my tattoos to hide my scars.” Alex whispered into my hair. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“After I did, I wished I hadn’t.”
“Why?” I wanted to stay here forever, cocooned in the safe bubble of Alex’s arms.
He nuzzled my ear before he spoke, and when I heard his words, my insides turned to liquid.
“Wounds leave scars. But scars show you survived.”
Chapter Twelve
Alex left for football practice before I woke up the next morning, scrawling a note on a scrap of paper for me to find when I woke up. I was surprised that I hadn’t woken when he’d left—since my teens I’d been a light sleeper, my subconscious always listening for the footfalls outside my door. But last night I’d slept better than I had... well, ever.
Sitting up in bed, I stretched and glanced at the clock. A squeak escaped me when I realized I hadn’t set my alarm and had slept later than usual.
I’d already missed my Social Psych class. I had to hustle or I would miss my American Lit class. And in American Lit I would see Alex.
I couldn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading over my face.
I’d told him, and he hadn’t run.
As I stepped into my jeans, I decided I’d hit the gym again after class. I liked feeling stronger.
Maybe Alex would come with me.
My phone vibrated on my pillow as I was pulling my hair back into my usual ponytail. Giddily thinking it might be Alex, I secured the elastic in my hair and hurried to check the message.
The number that showed on my screen was unknown, but I recognized the area code from home. Tendrils of dread began to twine around my heart as I opened the message.
News from home was never good.
Serena, this is Bob. Call me at this number.
As if it had scalded my hands, I threw the phone down on my bed. I had blocked every number Bob had ever tried to contact me from, but he must have gotten a new cell.
The phone vibrated again, indicating another message coming through. I contemplated just deleting it without reading it—there was nothing on earth that could convince me to call my stepfather—but I felt the steel snapping into my spine as anger took the place of fear.
He couldn’t hurt me anymore, not unless I let him.
This is an emergency. Call me now.
I could hear my teeth as I ground them together. Not happening.
You’ll have to explain here, and make it quick. I’m not calling.
I expected him to argue, to try to dominate me as he’d always done. He didn’t, and his next text took my breath away.
Your mother is in the hospital. Car accident. You need to come home.
I blinked at the phone, not sure if I’d read it right.
The words stayed the same.
Should I believe them? Guilt struck seconds after I had the thought. Whatever else Bob was—and he was a lot of things—I was pretty sure he loved my mom. I didn’t think he’d make up something like this.
I called the hospital back home, just to be sure.
Yes, they confirmed, Felicity Baker had been admitted that morning. No, they could not give any details whatsoever over the phone. No, not even for her daughter.
My mind was reeling as I hung up from the call. As far as I was concerned, Felicity had given up on her duties as my mother a long time ago.
But that didn’t mean I had stopped being her daughter.
Confusion clouding my mind, I tapped out a quick text to Alex.
My mom was in a car accident. I have to go home. Packing, then heading to Greyhound station.
I hit send, then, as an afterthought, added one more thing.
I love you.
My bag was nearly packed, the texts to Kaylee and my professors sent, by the time Alex replied—I didn’t imagine he kept his phone on him<
br />
I’ll come pick you up.
A surge of warmth eased a bit of the chill over the news of my mom’s accident.
It was nice to be taken care of for once.
***
“No.” I planted my hands on the cool metal door of Alex’s car as he heaved my duffel bag into the truck. “You can’t blow off school for who knows how long, just for this.”
“This is something pretty serious,” He said mildly, as rounded the car and opened my door for me. Though his words were light, his face was set in steel.
He’d taken a half hour to arrive at my dorm because he’d packed his own bag, which was now nestled in the trunk of his sedan with mine. My heart was racing and I felt sick, because not only did I not want to go home at all, I didn’t want him there, affected by the poison that was Felicity and Bob.
“Alex, I’m serious.” Though it wrenched my heart, I knew I had to pull out all the stops to change his mind. “I... I don’t want you there.”
He flicked an annoyed glance at me, then with a hand splayed flat on my back, urged me into the car. I planted my feet, hands on my hips, and glared.
“Are you listening to me?” My irritation was real now. “I said I don’t want you there.”
“I’m listening.” His mild manner held a trace of his own agitation. “But what you’re saying isn’t what you really want, so I’m ignoring it.”
My mouth fell open and I sputtered to form a sentence. Back on the driver’s side, Alex braced his arms on the roof of his car and faced me, his expression infuriatingly calm.
“Can you tell me why you don’t want me to go with you?”
I opened my mouth, closed it, and glared.
I couldn’t tell him, not without talking about Bob. And that was not ever going to happen.
“That’s what I thought.” He pointed again at the passenger’s seat. “Let’s go.”
Feeling as though I’d just been rather neatly steamrollered, I did as he said, slamming the door behind me and jerking on the seatbelt harder than I needed to, to fasten it. I sat silent as we pulled off campus, as Alex stopped at a service station for fuel and coffee.
When he got back in the car after paying—I’d silently offered my credit card, but he’d pretended he hadn’t noticed—he handed me a paper cup that smelled of dark roast.
“Skim milk, right?” He asked. The simple words, the small gesture, was my undoing. A scalding tear slid down my cheek, and I lifted the cup to my lips, gulping at the scalding liquid to hide it.
Alex was right. I couldn’t do this alone. But though by now I knew better, I couldn’t shake the notion that he would be disgusted when he learned who had been responsible for the abuse I’d suffered as a teen. More than that, I worried that being back home, being in that environment, would turn me into the girl I used to be.
I curled my fists, picturing them in boxing gloves. I didn’t want to lose the woman that Alex had helped me see I could be.
“How long of a drive is it?” He asked. My hometown was called Lodenville, and it was a small suburb of Plymouth, New Hampshire.
“About four, or four and a half hours.” My voice sounded thick from the suppressed tears. “We can take turns driving.”
“You’re in no condition to be driving right now.” Alex’s voice was full of frustration, and I glanced at him sharply, surprised by the tone in his voice.
“Will you just let me take care of you?” He sighed, sounding frustrated. Taking his eyes off the road just long enough to reach out and tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, he cast me a smile that was equal parts amusement, bafflement and exasperation.
“I’m not used to being taken care of.” Setting my coffee in one of the cup holders, I twined my fingers together in my lap, staring down at them, though I could feel Alex’s eyes on me. “I... I was a problem teenager, you know? I was something to be dealt with, not someone to be looked after.”
One of Alex’s large, warm hands reached across the console and covered my clasped hands. His thumb rubbed over my entwined fingers, and just the small gesture warmed my soul.
“I love you, Serena.” His voice was sure. I cast a sidelong glance at him.
“Why?” I still couldn’t quite believe it. This beautiful, scarred man was just too good to be true.
As I watched, his lips quirked up in amusement. He squeezed my hand, then returned his grip to the steering wheel.
“I just do. Get used to it.”
***
“Should we go to the hospital or your house?”
I’d fallen silent again as we’d entered Lodenville. If I had been driving, I might very well have turned around and driven straight back to campus.
To the naked eye, nothing in town had changed. To me, though, it felt like I had entered Wonderland, where everything was upside down and backwards.
“The hospital.” I had absolutely no desire to go back to the house, where it had all happened. Alex followed my directions, and long before I was ready we pulled into the hospital parking lot.
Which brought up another question.
“I... we can’t stay at the house.” The words escaped my mouth in a rush as Alex parked the car in a spot at the back of the hospital lot. My nails dug into the palms of my hands. “I’m sorry. I should have said that before... I’ll pay for a room at a motel. But we can’t stay there.”
I wondered if Alex would guess then, if he would understand why I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stay in my old house, my old room. Whether he did or not, he simply nodded.
“Let’s go in. While you see your mom, I’ll find something close and book a room. Okay?”
I nodded, the movement a bit frantic. Focusing on trying to control my ragged breath, I smoothed my palms over the thighs of my jeans.
Alex reached over and twined his fingers in one of mine, briefly, before opening the door. It was a quick, subtle, but strong reminder that I didn’t have to do this alone.
Oh, but he didn’t fully understand. He knew this would be hard for me, but he had no idea how hard.
The smell of the hospital hit me first, the sterile antiseptic not quite able to cover the scent of sickness. The fluorescent lights cast everything in a sickly pallor, and when I looked down at my hands they looked the color of wheat, laced through with amethyst and emerald veins, looking like they belonged to someone else.
“Felicity Baker?” I asked the woman at the front desk quietly. She looked over plastic rimmed glasses that were too large for her face and pinched her lips together as if about to give me a lecture.
Then recognition dawned, and she gave me one of those sympathetic half smiles that people do when they’re trying to be sympathetic, the ones that instead crawl under your skin like a million tiny spiders.
“Serena, honey. Of course. I didn’t recognize you at first.”
I didn’t recognize her at all, but I didn’t doubt that she knew me. Lodenville was a small town, and I had been a wild teen.
It was also easy to believe that she hadn’t recognized me. When I’d left Lodenville for college I’d been fifty pounds heavier, amongst other things.
The woman pursed her lips as she tapped on her computer screen. Her face lit up when she found what she was looking for.
“Unit C, room 4.” She scribbled the information on a sticky note and passed it across the counter to me. “She’ll be glad to see you.”
I thanked the woman with tight lips, then turned the way she’d gestured. I could feel Alex behind me, a solid, warm presence that seemed incredibly out of place in this reality.
“If she’ll be glad to see me, I suppose that means she’s awake. And possibly drugged.” My voice was wry. Alex didn’t reply, just took my hand again, supporting me as we wound down the narrow corridor.
My stomach clenched as we approached the outside of the room. I was here because I was Felicity’s daughter, but that didn’t make our last conversation any more pleasant. Also, I didn’t have any idea what I was walking into, since Bob ha
dn’t offered any more information, and I sure hadn’t asked.
I could see her through the door, lying in her hospital bed. From outside the room it was difficult to see anything in the dim room.
“I should... ah... probably do this alone.” I turned to Alex, offered him a tight smile. Just as I’d known, it was uncomfortable having him there.
But it was also good. I wasn’t alone.
“I’ll look for a room.” He waved his phone at me, and I nodded. He pointed at a chair set against the wall, about halfway down the hall. “I’ll be right here.”
I watched him for a moment as he walked away, marvelling again at how this tall, gorgeous boy could belong to me.
Then, bracing myself, I entered my mom’s room.
A quick glance around told me that she was alone, and I exhaled a breath that I hadn’t known I was holding. Able to let that worry go, I crept to the side of the bed and looked down at my mother, my teeth worrying my lower lip.
“Felicity?” I whispered, not sure if she was asleep or not. It was strange, seeing her this way, pale and somewhat vulnerable.
It was the way I felt around her most of the time.
Shifting at the sound of my voice, Felicity propped herself up on her elbows, squinting up at me. Realizing that she probably didn’t have her contacts in, I looked around for her glasses, found them sitting on the moveable tray, and handed them to her wordlessly.
“Serena?” Felicity slid the glasses onto her nose and looked up at me, puzzled. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Her words were like a knife to my skin. I felt my face twist with hurt, and did my best to smooth it out.
“You were in a car accident. Of course I’m here.” My words were clipped, short, and for once Felicity picked up on the nuance.
She reached out for my hand, laid hers overtop of it. I fought through the urge to pull away, since it had been a very long time since she’d reached out to me like that.
“I’m glad you came, Serena. I’m sorry if it didn’t sound like that.” While she spoke, my eyes scanned her body, searching for reasons that she would be in the hospital.
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