I hadn’t wanted to leave at all. But something is still wrong. “Are you—are you grossed out by me? By how I looked when you found me?” Before he can answer, I rush to add, “Because I wouldn’t be offended by that. I mean, it was awful. I hate that you saw me like that.”
He looks away. A muscle in his jaw flexes. His chest rises up and down like he’s forcing himself to be calm. But when he looks at me, he’s anything but calm. There’s fury in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about? Gross? You think I think you’re gross?”
He’s saying it like it’s totally ridiculous, but I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all. “Well, I mean…it was pretty gross.”
The marks haven’t healed. I see them every time I shower, though Clara has to help me. She winces just to look at them. I’m guessing a few of the deeper ones will leave scars, but at least eventually they’ll fade into some regular color instead of black-and-blue like now.
He’s just staring at me now. Speechless.
I’m making a mess of this, but I’m not sure how. “Look, I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you. Like a relationship or something. I know that we were just… that you were just… I know what I was,” I finish lamely.
Kip stands up, tension radiating from him. He stalks to the door, and I think he must be leaving. I open my mouth to call him back, to apologize, to beg him to stay, but then he turns on his heel. Even this far away I feel his gaze sear me.
“Let me get this straight,” he says. “According to you, I’m just using you for sex. I think you’re gross because you were hurt. And I want to throw you out in the cold while you’re still recovering. Does that about sum me up?”
My voice is small. “When you put it that way, it sounds kind of bad.”
His eyes are like molten copper, metallic and in motion. He’s panting like a bull about to charge, and suddenly my words seem like red flags.
“No, Honor,” he says, taking a step forward, “I don’t want you to leave. Not ever, if it’s up to me.”
My heart pounds. “Oh,” I say, real quiet. Because oh.
Another step. “And when I looked at you tied to that bed, I wanted to rip apart every man that had helped put you there, every man that had hurt you. I wanted to take your wounds into my own body, feel the pain instead of you. Not once have I thought you were anything but beautiful.”
I swallow hard. “Kip?”
“And as for using you for sex…” He reaches the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t stop. He leans over me, one hand on either side of the headboard, his face just a foot from mine. This close his eyes are pure energy, a vortex that sucks me in and steals the air from the room. “That much is true. I want to use you for sex again and again. I never want there to come a time when I can’t use you for sex, for friendship, for every goddamn thing, because I’m in love with you. Fuck, I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whisper. It feels almost magical, like if I talk too loud, I’ll break the spell. How could he love me after everything? How could I love him? But I do.
Love doesn’t ask questions. And love doesn’t lie.
“No,” he says, pulling back.
Um… “What?”
“You don’t love me,” he says flatly. “You don’t even know me.”
* * *
Night has fallen by the time I venture outside the house. I had to wait until Clara went to sleep. Otherwise she’d worry.
It feels right to find him in the dark, where we walked holding hands, where we lay on the roof. The moon conspires with us, giving just enough light to see the lines of each other’s bodies, but not enough to see all the scars.
Kip sits on the porch railing, looking at the yard with its dark morning glory blooms. He doesn’t turn as I come out. He doesn’t move when I walk closer. But he knows it’s me. “I suppose it would be useless to order you back to bed,” he says without heat.
“You could try.”
He slants me a look. “Why do I get the feeling you’d enjoy that?”
“Because you know me.” I lower my voice, pretending to be serious. “You know everything about me.”
“Think this is a joke?”
“I’m not laughing. I’m just… You can’t make these vague proclamations and expect me to just accept it. If you didn’t love me—” I have to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’d understand that. But you do love me, and it feels like a miracle. I can’t just pretend you didn’t say that to me. Unless…unless you didn’t mean it.”