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It was inevitable.
And after what happened today, I have to tell her the truth.
All of it.
Just not right now…
“We’ll talk about that later, Beauty.”
I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead, then shift over to dig in the cabinet to find the first aid kit. She watches me work, alternating between soft sobs and hiccupped breaths as I wet a washcloth and slowly clean the wound at her forehead and the other scrapes and cuts on her arms and legs.
The beautiful nightgown I bought for her now covers her more like a funeral gown, spotted with blood and dirt, part of a horrific memory I hope she can one day forget.
Though, I never will.
That look on her face when I broke into her room will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Her gaze follows me as I sterilize the worst of her injuries, my hands lingering over the already-forming bruises. “Is…”
I glance up at her, waiting for her to continue.
She must have a thousand questions, ones she hasn’t had a chance to voice since she succumbed to her exhaustion the moment we hit the road.
“Is my father all right?”
I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to tamp down that natural reaction to lash out over her concern for the man. “He’s fine. This wasn’t about him.”
“What do you mean, this wasn’t about him?”
I’ve already said too much.
This isn’t the time nor the place to have this conversation. She can barely keep her head up, and once she knows everything, she’ll only have more questions and demand more answers.
I glance up at her. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow. I promise. But you need to sleep.”
She shakes her head and reaches out to cling to me, her nails digging into my shoulders. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“Sleep.” Her eyes clamp shut again, and she presses her lips together like she’s fighting another sob that wants to come out. “Not again. They drugged me, and I—”
“Shh.” I try to calm her rising panic, attempt to silence her with a soft brush of my lips over hers. “I’ll be here watching you every minute. I won’t let you out of my sight. I swear to you.”
She sucks in a sharp breath and nods, but the fear still fills her gaze, unlikely to go away anytime soon. No matter how many times I tell her she’s safe with me and that I’ll protect her, that trauma will lie just under the surface.
All I can do is try to give what she needs each moment—even if I fail.
I examine her one more time to ensure I have her cleaned well before I lift her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom.
For a few nights before she left, this bed became ours, shared in a way I never have with anyone else. I let her in, and she welcomed me with open arms and heart and suffered because of it.
Now, I take no pleasure as I remove the ruined dress I had dreamed of seeing her wear in the meadow with the wildflowers. Even if I could salvage the stained material, it would always serve as a reminder of what I allowed to happen, of what she suffered.
I toss it into the corner, as far away from her as I can get it, then help her change into a tank top and shorts.
Her hands tighten around my arms as I slide the waistband into place. “You’ll stay with me?”
Her question rips my chest open, and I have to swallow back the words I want to say because they’d scare the shit out of her more than what happened did.
