Chapter 28 I Wear Your Scars
I WEAR YOUR SCARS
Vera
Have you ever seen a grown man cry? I have.
Two men in my life have wept openly in front of me.
The first was Julian, and the second was Alistair.
His eagle eyes didn’t miss the faded scars on my abdomen when I showed myself to him.
Nor did he hide his tears, listening in sorrowful silence, when I told him my story.
I drew in a shaky breath and forced the words out. “Someone I trusted and had feelings for betrayed me. Holly James, the doctor I’d been casually seeing when you and I weren’t together. She planned the assault. Either Saira or Erin was behind this, but I don’t know which one.”
His face went still. I watched the realization hit—first horror, then grief, then a wave of guilt so fierce it hollowed him out. His eyes locked on the scars across my abdomen, and his voice broke.
He reached for me, every muscle tense, but he didn’t lash out. He just sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding on like he might fall apart if he let go. His cheek pressed to my skin, silent tears wetting my scars.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I should have protected you. I never should have let them close.”
We stayed like that. No tantrums, just pain and tenderness. Grieving what had been done and what we’d lost.
“You’re here now,” I murmured, caressing the curls on his head.
Alistair’s forlorn face, reddened and stained by the sadness of his tears, looked up. “I failed you,” his hoarse voice faltered.
“The world failed us, Scotty. Or maybe we failed ourselves. Whichever way we look at it, it doesn’t matter anymore because we’re here now. Together.” I offered a faint smile and cupped his face with my hands. My thumbs rubbed the prickles of his jaw, feeling it clench tightly.
“I’ll find every person who did this to you, Vera, and there will be no mercy. Not for hurting the woman I love,” Alistair vowed, still on his knees. His green eyes gazed at me with earnest devotion, as if he were praying to a deity.
“Love?” I asked, intrigued.
“Your eyes are as wide as saucers,” Alistair teased with a grin. “I said it, though, didn’t I? I love you.”
I wanted to say the words back, but I was still processing everything that had happened tonight. Was our relationship risky? Perhaps. Was it worth the suffering? I didn’t believe in regrets.
Alistair’s body shifted on top of mine under the silky cover of our bed moments later.
The sex was vanilla, but ever so sweet and flavored with unbridled energy.
Our kisses were insatiable, and our bodies connected as one energetic force, sweating profusely from the outbreak of our rabid fever for each other.
“I belong here,” he proclaimed, pushing deeper inside me as his body approached the brink of an orgasm.
“I feel you. Every inch,” I gasped, bucking my hips into his, bringing the rhythm of our bodies to a faster pace until reaching the tipping point.
“Come, sweetheart. Let yourself go,” Alistair moaned, his hard length prodding my most sensitive spot.
“I’m coming, Scotty.” I felt the orgasmic waves of lust rise.
He bit my left nipple, claiming victory over my body as I arched my back, screaming his name. My sex contracted, pulling his cock into a torrid tightness. His body paused and stiffened before ramming harder into me at jet speed, working every muscle, from his shoulders to his buttocks.
“Vera!” he shouted, releasing his hot tension. He let out one last grunt, relaxing his shoulders as his sweat-slicked body collapsed into mine. What we made that night was soul-shaking love more powerful than the darkness that threatened me months ago.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Alistair’s deep voice resonated into my ear while the scent of roasted coffee infiltrated my nostrils.
“Mmm, do I smell something delicious?” I asked, waking from deep slumber after an energetic night of passion.
I opened my eyes to my lover’s face, which reflected the serene and playful mood of Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major in the background.
The legato melody connected with the rhythm and pace of his fingers as they played with the outline of my curves.
The bedroom air’s coolness contrasted with the blond sunlight shining from the windows, highlighting a sprinkling of freckles on Alistair’s tanned, smooth shoulders.
“Here you go,” he said, offering a warm cup of the dark, rich drink. “It’s a fine Italian roast.”
“I love the drink, but I’d choose you over coffee.” I grinned, inhaling Alistair’s musk while kissing his shoulder.
He sipped his coffee before placing it on the bedside table. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he replied with a wink and a grin.
We stayed tangled in sheets, coffee cooling between us. I traced lazy circles on his chest, watching the morning light catch the stubble on his jaw.
“Your parents seem nice,” I said.
He gave a crooked smile. “They have their moments. My mom was relentless, though. Especially after I was diagnosed with ADHD as a child.”
I rolled onto my side, propping my chin on my palm. “What was that like?”
He hesitated, glancing at the ceiling. “Rough. I was the weird kid. Couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. The teachers complained. Kids at school.” His mouth twisted. “They called me a freak. Didn’t help that I was tiny. I shot up, finally, but not until after finishing high school.”
Without thinking, I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but I saw the old wound flicker in his eyes. He squeezed my fingers in return. “What about your parents?”
A shadow crossed my face. “My dad died when I was little. I barely remember him. My mom worked two jobs just to keep us afloat, and my brother. He basically became Dad. Except he was a total hard-ass about it.” I tried to laugh, but it came out brittle.
Alistair shifted closer, tucking me against his side. “That sounds lonely.”
“It was. Sometimes I still feel like that lost little girl.” The words surprised me, hanging raw between us.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, holding me tight. “Not anymore. Not with me.”
We paused for a moment while I admired his angel eyes.
They smiled at me before hovering over the peaks of my breasts, then gazing at my abdomen.
“Vera, sex with you isn’t about making a child.
It’s about being close to the woman I love.
These scars you bear are the scars I wear,” he said, lowering his lips on each faint wound mark.
“Your scars are mine too. Scotty?”
“Hmm?” Alistair gave me a lazy smile.
“We may not have to worry about having children.”
“Vera, I’m very sorry about the things I said in New York. I’d take those words back if I could. I would do anything for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Children or no children, money or no money, for all you know, the world may turn upside down. Whatever comes our way, I know one thing for sure. I want a life with you.”
“The world is upside down.” I sighed, stroking his beautiful curls.
“Do you want to know a secret?”
“Tell me.”
“I’ve had women come and go in my life, and I’ve never needed a woman before. But I think we both know I need you more than you need me.”
“I believe you’re right, Mister Scott,” I hummed, stroking Alistair’s chin softly before harsh reality kicked in. “I forgot to ask you something last night. When was your last sexual health check?”
Alistair sighed and closed his eyes. “After what happened with Erin, I’ve been careful. But I’ll make it a priority to get checked for you,” he promised, opening his brilliant green eyes.
“Thank you. I’m not immune to sexually transmitted infections.”
Alistair nodded, and his hand tightened on mine. I ran my finger along his back, tracing the eagle and the scar with my fingers, ever so curious about his story. He flinched, then removed my hand.
“Vera,” he murmured, planting a kiss on my scarred earlobe. “I would die for you.”