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There’s a medicine cabinet that Lennox flips open as he struggles to hold me with his other arm.
I don’t offer to help him, and he doesn’t ask.
He finds a first aid kit, and then he stomps off, barely keeping me in his arms, until he reaches the bed, where he collapses with me barely contained in his arms.
He quickly scurries off me, grabbing the first aid kit. He opens it and begins throwing items out on the bed as he digs through it. I assume he’s looking to cover his wounds so that he doesn’t bleed out or get infected.
We don’t make eye contact.
We don’t speak.
I’m not sure what to say, and neither of us can stand looking into each other’s eyes at the moment.
And then Lennox is hovering over me as I lay on my back on the scratchy comforter. He still doesn’t meet my gaze as he studies the slice across my cheek. Without a word, he smears some ointment on it and covers it with a small bandage.
He then moves, focusing on his work to the cut under my arm. He bandages my wound there too.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” His voice is deep, but it doesn’t hide his fear. I’m not sure how he wants me to answer. That I was hurt by Andrea or that I wasn’t. I think either answer I give is going to hurt him.
So I say nothing.
I sit up, forcing Lennox to stand off me.
He keeps his gaze high, off my body, like he can’t stand to look at me. I’m still wearing black lace lingerie with crotchless panties. Lennox could see my entire body if he wanted to, and I find myself missing his wicked gaze on my body.
But he’s not mine anymore.
“Your turn,” I say, reaching for the first aid kit. He needs more medical attention than what’s here, but he won’t get help until he’s gotten answers out of me.
He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” I stare at his naked body covered in blood, sweat, and bruises. There isn’t an inch of his skin that isn’t marked in more than just his usual tattoos. He’ll never be the same after what happened.
I don’t understand why I’m not tied to a bed. Why he’s not torturing me, threatening to kill me for what I’ve done. He should hate me, but it’s clear that he’s never been more in love with me.
“Don’t act like you care if I live. You’d much prefer I died. You’ve made that perfectly clear,” he says.
“And you’ve made it clear that you love me, and you’d rather die loving me than let me go and get to live. You’re a fool!”
He grins.
“Why the fuck are you grinning?”
He bites his lip as his smile curls wider, and his eyes light up. “Doesn’t matter.”
I shake my head and huff. “I think you have brain damage; it’s the only explanation.”
“You’re a liar.”
I glare at him.
He snarls back with a smirk that says he knows the truth. But he doesn’t. No one does. No one knows my true motives. No one knows my truth. Not him. Not Hayes, Gage, or Beckett. Not Andrea. Not my father. No one. And I plan on keeping it that way.
Neither of us blink as we stare each other down. Waiting for the other to speak and reveal all our secrets.
Lennox finally blinks, surrendering.
“But you’re not going to tell me who you’re lying to, are you? Is it me? Andrea? Yourself?”
