Love Me for Me (17 page)

I didn’t know how it could possibly last, once he knew... once he knew everything.

“Stop sab.. sab... sabotaging yourself.” Kaylee yawned once, hugely, then flopped onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow.

Her last words before she fell asleep were muffled, but I still understood them well enough.

“No matter what happened before, you have a chance to be happy now. So what the fuck are you waiting for?”

***

Kaylee’s words were all but a dare, and they made me squirm. I tried to focus on my textbook, and instead found myself reaching for the bottle of vodka, mixing it in Kaylee’s cup with the remains of the flat two liter of lemon lime soda that we had in the room. It wasn’t very palatable, but I found I was liking the buzz that became stronger with every sip.

By nine that evening Kaylee had dozed off her bender and had gone off muttering about coffee. I was full of liquid courage and ready to do something about it. Picking up my phone, I typed out a quick text to Alex.

His response was almost instantaneous.

I grinned. As promised, he’d called earlier, but I’d still been contemplating what Kaylee had said and hadn’t answered.

I felt my heart begin a little tap dance in my chance when I realized what it was I was going to try to do.

My nerves began a quick tap dance on my belly once he agreed to come over. Half of me was dying to see him, to relive that connection I’d felt when we’d finally had sex last night.

The other half... the other half of me was convinced that he would hear what I had to say, would cast me the look of disgust I remembered all too clearly from Felicity’s face, and would leave me alone with my pain.

To kill the time, I chugged another vodka with stale soda. I wasn’t sure I entirely liked the hazy feeling that was settling over me from the alcohol, but I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to spit this out on my own.

I didn’t think there was any shame in it. I was doing what I had to do to get through, just like I’d always done.

Even though I was waiting for it, the knock on the door still startled me. Nausea from nerves almost convinced me to ignore it, but the memory of Alex’s face the night before, as he told me his own tale, forced my feet to move.

“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.” 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?” 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.” The word 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.

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.

I could hear my teeth as I ground them together. Not happening.

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.

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 doctor.

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.

I hit send, then, as an afterthought, added one more thing.

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

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 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?” 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 a drive is it?” My hometown was called Lodenville, and it was a small suburb of Plymouth, New Hampshire.

“About four, 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?” 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.