Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
LILY
The mirror doesn’t lie.
My fingers trace over the marks he left on my throat.
Dark bruises blooming purple and blue, with yellow at the edges.
Each one aches under my touch, evidence of everywhere his mouth has been.
The largest sits at the base of my throat, teeth marks visible if I look closely enough.
I press against it, watching my reflection wince, needing the pain to ground me in reality.
But it’s not just my throat. Marks scatter across my collarbone, disappearing beneath my shirt. My lips are still sensitive when I touch them. There’s stubble burn along my jaw and neck. And between my legs … a different kind of ache. One that flares with every movement, every shift of weight.
My whole body is a record of what happened last night. It feels like a fever dream.
After the confrontation with Amy and Kate, Cassidy insisted I go back to her place.
She didn’t push for details on what happened while I was outside with Ronan, just made hot chocolate I didn’t drink, and sat with me while I stared at nothing.
When the silence got too heavy, she put on the television and let the sounds of random shows fill the room.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said sometime after midnight. “But I’m here if you need me.”
I couldn’t find the words then. I had no way to explain how it felt to have him touch me again, to feel him against me, with his voice, rough and wanting, in my ear before he twisted it into something cruel.
I didn’t sleep, tossing and turning in her spare room, and watched the shadows move across the ceiling while I relived every moment, every touch, and every word he uttered. When the sun rose, I left Cassidy a note on her kitchen counter, and slipped out without waking her.
Need to go home and change clothes. I’ll call you later.
She’ll be worried, but I can’t face her concern right now, or the questions she’ll have been holding back all night long.
And now, in my own bathroom, there’s nowhere to hide from the truth.
I reach for the concealer. The brush shakes in my hand as I dab it over the darkest marks. It looks pathetic against the bruises. The purple shows through, mocking my attempt. I try a darker shade. Then another. But nothing hides them.
The makeup brush clatters to the sink, and I grip the edges of the counter, my vision blurring with the tears filling my eyes.
You’re just like them. You only ever saw what you wanted to see.
The surge of anger takes me by surprise.
He’s wrong. I saw him back then. When everyone else looked away, I saw him. I knew him in ways no one else did.
But now? The words are an insidious whisper.
I don’t know this version of him at all. I don’t know what prison did to him, or how life treated him once he was released. I have no idea who he’s become in all the years between then and now.
And it doesn’t matter, because last night, I realized that nothing had changed. My body still remembers his. My heart recognized the truth I’ve been trying to deny since he came back and I saw him on the street.
I never stopped loving him.
The tears in my eyes spill over and down my cheeks, and I sink to the bathroom floor, lean against the wall, and close my eyes.
The last thing I said to Cassidy before we went to bed last night comes back to me.
I don’t know why I’m letting him affect me like this.
But that’s a lie. I do know. I could pretend they were memories, the echo of a first love that never quite faded. I can argue that I’m curious about who he’s become, that it’s because I never found any sort of closure. But that’s not what it is.
I still love him.
My phone vibrates on the counter, shattering the silence of the bathroom. I force myself upright, and pick it up. It’s a message from Mom, asking about dinner again. I type back a quick response, telling her I’m about to get into the shower, and that I’ll call her later.
I love my mom, but I can’t handle her concern for me right now. And she’ll know something is wrong as soon as I speak to her.
My phone vibrates again. This time it’s Cassidy.
Cassidy: You okay?
Me: No.
Cassidy: I’m coming over.
Me: Don’t. I need—
But I don’t know what I need. I delete the message unsent, and look at myself in the mirror. The woman staring back at me looks lost. My hair is a mess, tangled from tossing around in bed all night. Dark circles shadow my eyes that are red-rimmed from exhaustion and tears.
Outside, a car passes by. A dog barks. The world keeps turning while mine tilts on its axis.
Cassidy: I’m on my way. Bringing coffee and bagels.
I strip out of my clothes and turn on the shower. Steam fill the bathroom. Stepping under the hot spray, I tip my head back and close my eyes, and let the water wash over me.
When I finally get out, wrapped in a towel, I look a little more human. I pull on yoga pants and an oversized sweater, drag a brush through my hair, then take one more look at my reflection.
I love him.
Now I just have to figure out what to do with a love that never died.
The front door opens. “Lily?”
Cassidy’s voice carries through the apartment. I close my eyes, and prepare to face my best friend. She’s the only one I can trust to listen while I try and explain something I barely understand myself. Taking a breath, I walk out to meet her.
She’s in the living room, coffee carrier in one hand, bag of bagels in the other. Her eyes sweep over me.
“Oh, honey.” She sets everything down, and pulls me into her arms.