Paul pulling my hair, dragging me around, holding me down, my frantic fighting. I still can’t believe I’m safe, that Saxon saved me before anything could happen, before he could do that to me. Tears well in my eyes, and a sob breaks through my chest. The memories play over and over in my mind.
Rolling onto my side, I let the pain drain out of me. I don’t have the strength to hold my emotions back.
The bed dips, and strong, warm arms wrap themselves around me, holding tight enough to control my shudders. “Shhhhh, baby. I’m here. You’re safe,” Saxon whispers into my ear.
His warm embrace and soothing voice brings back other memories of last night. Memories of Saxon holding me, washing me, promising to stay with me. Holding me in his arms and telling me he loved me. What? Did that really happen? Did I really hear that or did I dream it? No, I must have dreamt it. Saxon doesn’t love me.
Ignoring the niggling in my head I nuzzle closer to him. That familiar peace and security he brings washes over me, and my sobs begin to cease as my body settles.
He loosens his grip on me as he feels my body relax, and I turn over to face him. I wrap myself around his body and nuzzle into his chest. The warmth, the comfort, and the sense of peace… I soak it all in. As we embrace he rubs his hands up and down my back, offering up whatever I want to take from him.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but I’m dozing off before my internal alarm of my morning needs ring.
“I need to pee,” I mumble into his chest.
His laugh reverberates through him. “Get up and refreshed. I have breakfast waiting.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. So hurry up.” I lay a warm kiss on his chest before jumping off of him and out of bed. I freeze by the bed thinking of the kiss which came so naturally. We’re falling into a familiar and comfortable routine and relationship, and I’m not sure how I feel about this.
Saxon smacks my ass as he passes me on his way to the door and all thoughts leave my head. “Hurry up,” he says once more before exiting my room.
As I pass the mirror, I gasp. I barely recognise myself under the red and puffy eyes and the already dark bruises all over my face. I look down and see a similar pattern across most of my skin, my arms and legs all grazed and scratched.
I rub the back of my head and wince as the pain that shoots through my skull reminds me of how I came to look like this. Not wanting to witness my pain anymore, I quickly bend over the sink and splash some cold water on my face.
After I’ve freshened up I dress in yoga pants and a t-shirt and head towards the kitchen. Saxon has a platter of bagels on the table along with several juices, flavoured milks, teas, and coffee. There’s a bowl of fruit salad and one of homemade yoghurt. I recognise the fruit swirled through it as my favourite tropical flavour from the yoghurt shop down the road.
Saxon is standing with his back to me, washing up a few dishes. His slacks are all creased and his shirt hangs out of his pants. Sensing my presence, he turns and gives me a warm smile. “Sit down,” he gestures to the table. “Breakfast is ready.”
“I thought you didn’t cook.” I smirk as I take a seat.
“Putting cream cheese on a bagel is hardly cooking. I got the yoghurt and fruit salad from the place you love down the street and quickly stopped at the deli to grab the drinks.” He stares at me blankly like it’s no big deal.
“Can I ask you something, Sax?” I ask hesitantly.
“Sure.” He doesn’t turn to face me.
“Why are you so against relationships? You seem so natural at it.”
“Trust me, Brooke. I am no good for anyone. No one would want me as their partner, or worse, their husband.” There’s no sadness in his voice, no self-pity, just calm fact.
“That’s not true. Look how well you’ve taken care of me.”
He sighs loudly before turning and coming to sit across from me at the table. “Growing up, my parents weren’t around. They were too focussed on themselves, their careers. They never cared what I was doing or what was going on in my life. I was a nuisance to them, something that only got in the way. I was a show pony for when they needed it.”
I reach over the table and entwine our fingers, showing silent support while Saxon continues telling me stories about his childhood and absent parents. The stories he shares sadden me. I imagine a young Saxon, sad and alone. I don’t ever want him to feel that way again: unloved, insignificant, and worthless.
“I started spending all my time at Nate’s as I got older. My father was angry and my mother was a drunk. I loved feeling welcome there. It’s the only place I ever felt wanted, appreciated.” He runs his hand through his hair, his face tight as painful memories flash in his eyes.