23. I’m Ready
I’M READY
FAITH
I t’s been a week since we slept together, and since then, he’s been in my bed every night. It works out well because then he drops me off at work and picks me up after he closes Ripley’s.
We sleep in. Have lazy breakfasts.
Talk. Openly. Freely.
“Tell me about Jamie,” he asks one night when we’re in bed.
We kiss now. We touch.
We still haven’t gone all the way. I think we like this because it feels like we’re still in the courtship phase. Still getting to know one another.
He strokes my back as I tell him how I thought Jamie was my savior, my knight in shining armor, and how wrong I was.
Cain’s grip tightens when I tell him about the beatings, about the trips to the ER, about how he kept me prisoner. But he continues to comfort me, lets me tell my story at my own pace, in my own way.
“Have you seen a therapist?” Cain asks, voice soft like he’s afraid I’ll bolt.
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Sure. Right after I treat myself to the makeup Melody dropped ten grand on. Maybe I’ll throw in a psychic, too, while I’m at it.”
He doesn’t smile. He leans in closer, eyes locked on mine—not pitying, just steady. “Will you let me help you with that?”
The question devastates me because he’s asking me so many things.
Will you trust me?
Will you love me again?
Will you be mine?
I bite my upper lip, hard, trying to keep it together.
But the tears come anyway.
“I…” My voice breaks, and I hate it. “I don’t know how to let anyone help me.”
His hand brushes my cheeks, gentle and sure as he wipes the tears.
“Let me teach you how to accept help,” he pleads gently. And shatters me.
No one’s ever looked at me like this—like I’m worth saving, worth effort, worth softness. No one’s ever wanted me whole. Not without asking for something back.
But Cain…he just gives.
“Yes, teach me.”
Yes, I trust you.
Yes, I love you.
Yes, I’m yours.
He kisses my nose. His eyes are moist with emotion.
“Yes?” he asks like he can’t believe he’s won the lottery.
“Yes,” I murmur and then add with more strength, “I’m ready.”