Chapter 16
16
RAVEN
The one where the scars are all the words spoken in the flesh, acted out on, bonded.
I couldn’t stand the sight of him lying in bed—I couldn’t stand the sight of him period.
Did that make me heartless?
I honestly wasn’t sure.
One thing I did know.
I was part of him, and he was a part of me now.
I pressed a hand to his chest. Already the wounds were soaking through his bandages.
He was given morphine and told to rest.
I hadn’t left his side.
He was a bloody mess.
Covered in sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead while he slept.
"Idiot,” I whispered. “Taking the downfall for something that you didn’t even do.”
“Idiot,” he rasped back, his voice startling me. “For staying in the room while I did it.”
I nudged his side. “You’re awake.”
“Kind of… wish I wasn’t, but the pain meds wore off an hour ago so I’ve just been laying here listening to you sigh.”
"And you creepily said nothing?
”
"Five minutes in, and I talked myself out if it. The more time that passed, the more awkward it got, and then it was kind of nice, the silence. I mean, the minute I extend the olive branch of communication you light it on fire then search for more words you haven’t used yet in the last twenty-four hours.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And yet you use words to fill time and space with insults when you could just say thank you.”
"It’s hard to pronounce.
” He finally opened his blue eyes and stared at me, leaning up onto his elbows.
I tried to help him, but the way he clenched his jaw like the last thing he wanted was someone touching him had me dropping my hands back to my sides.
After a minute of squirming and writhing, he was sitting back against the headboard.
“So, tell me about yourself.”
I gaped.
"What?” He tried to fold his arms then must have remembered he was bandaged up and, you know, missing freaking skin, and folded them in his lap. “I was serious.”
I nodded. “Leave it to you to cover my ass, pass out from pain after offering my dad your skin and hand in marriage all before asking that question. Besides, you read the black folder.”
The folder that carried both your triumphs and your sins on top of everything else I could have sworn that was attached to you like some sort of demon that the families couldn’t get rid of no matter how many times they tried to cleanse the bloodlines.
“Ah, the black folder.” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t you feel like I should at least be owed a cow or something?”
"Are you high?
”
He peered to his right, his eyes unfocused.
“Fuck, that’s a lot of morphine.”
I let out snort.
‘Need I remind you that you gave up parts of your flesh all in order to protect my honor?"
"Life,” he corrected. “To protect your life. Besides, too much is at stake and—” He eyed my stomach and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is protecting you and the secret growing inside of you.”
I touched the flatness and dropped my hand. “It’s soon.”
“We should make an appointment.”
I forced a smile I didn’t feel.
“It’s next week, actually.”
"I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I’m your bodyguard.”
It happened too fast. The onslaught of emotions that attacked from all sides, all angles. I sat there as pain ran through my chest only to come back around and slice through again, moving up toward my brain to remind me yet again.
He’s gone.
"I’m your bodyguard.
” He used to say that whenever he knew I felt guilty about being needy.
Except the last two weeks when things got really physical between us, then it was just this…
crazy passion that seemed to never go away.
It was like he’d somehow silenced his pretty words with his body, with our bodies.
I had to admit that I missed those words before he died.
It would have been easier, I think, had I had more memories of him those last few days, of his gentle kisses rather than his passionate ones.
Of holding his hand not hiding from my dad or drugging two made men so I could sneak him into my room.
It had been fun and out of character for him.
In the end, I trusted him.
In the end, he failed to keep his promise to stay alive.
"Right.” I finally squeezed the word I needed out of my mouth and into the tense air. “You’re my bodyguard, so you’ll need to be there anyway. Just try not to freak out over all the pregnant women and screaming children.”
He shrugged. “We’re Italian. I’m used to women yelling. In fact, there is nothing more terrifying than a quiet kitchen.”
I laughed, some of the sorrow dissipating. “I feel that.”
"Thought so.
” He winced, not quite masking it with another shrug.
“And maybe it’s the drugs speaking, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
"Oh? Careful, you’re going to use your allotted word count for the day.”
"Shhhhh…
” His grin was dopey, sexy, and cute.
I shoved the thought away.
Anyone could be cute with happy drugs.
“I think I’ll be okay, I put some words in a savings account for special moments like this.” He held up his hand.
“Shhhh, I’ll make a quick withdrawal.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I whispered.
He held a hand to his mouth again.
“Shhh, ah yes, please, I just need to take out a stack of apologies followed by a few compliments and…” His eyes narrowed at me.
“Double the compliments, they carry more truth than apologies, and I’d like to add in something really special.”
“What’s that?”
He gave me a stern look.
“Can’t you see I’m on the phone with the bank?”
He actually made a phone motion with his hand.
Did he even realize he was doing it?
No clue. The drugs must have really, really kicked in.
“Sorry, go ahead, I’ll wait my turn.”
He cleared his throat.
“Thank you.” After another not needed deep breath he added.
“Yeah, she’s really pretty.”
I smiled and wagged my finger at him.
“Isn’t that pre-spending compliments?”
"I won’t tell if you won’t.”
I pretend-zipped my lips.
He “hung” up the phone and shrugged. “Alright, I have more words which means I can talk all I want and they’re really burning a hole in my pocket, so the second thing? I love big families. I always wanted kids, on account of I was raised without any siblings and had a father who’d rather sell drugs and prostitutes than spend time with me. The one and only memory I really truly have of him is when I woke up on a Saturday morning to the smell of waffles.”
"That’s a nice memory.
” I patted his leg.
His eyes focused in on my hand and the way it was touching his thigh through the blanket.
“I didn’t tell you the rest.” He licked his bottom lip then held it captive with his white teeth biting down until his skin matched.
“I was a play, like a sitting duck. A cute kid that disarmed the woman waiting for a meeting. She took one look at me and figured it was safe. I mean there was a kid, a waffle, he even lied and said it was my birthday. He told her to invite her friends. Six arrived that day. Seven left to be sold on the black market for top price, all because of my blue eyes and a waffle. I still can’t eat them.”
The lump in my throat grew until it was nearly impossible to swallow the grief.
“When I’m sad you tell me to get angry. Should we go burn down a Waffle House? I mean, we’ll of course make sure insurance takes care of things and get all the innocent people out.”
He smirked.
“No. I just have a very strict waffle rule.”
"You don’t eat them?”
"I never have, and I promised myself that the only time I ever would—would be with someone I trusted with my life, someone who saw every ugly part of me, lied, and told me my scars were my best feature.
To me, a waffle represents everything I want to forget—and every burden I have to share—and all I have to give.
”
What was this feeling?
Was I jealous of whoever would get to eat his first waffle with him?
Why did I even care?
He was a bodyguard, not my boyfriend, or my fiancé.
He was the person I had to marry.
The person protecting me and Louis’ baby because of the bloodline.
I slid my hand up his leg and very slowly leaned in toward his chest. “The girl who shares a future waffle with you? I kind of hate her.”
"You’re about to be my wife, you’re allowed to hate any woman who shares food with me.” He shrugged slightly then winced again. “Besides, you’ll always be prettier.”
“Ah, cashing out more compliments I see.”
“It’s true. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m loud, annoying, and stripped in front of you in order to drunkenly seduce you and take you into my lair.”
"It could have been worse.
You could have had bunk beds or one of those things, over the beds, with the pink or white.
” A shudder rippled through him.
I burst out laughing.
“A canopy bed?”
“Oh God, imagine fucking beneath unicorns. You know something’s wrong with you if My Little Pony gives you an erection.”
My face hurt from smiling.
“I’m going to be kind of sad when you’re all healed up.”
"Why’s that?”
"You won’t talk as much.
”
He swallowed and looked down.
“I don’t have a lot to say, Raven.”
"I’ll take anything as long as they’re words, conversation, as long as you try.”
"Will you?
”
“Talk? Yes.”
“Try.” He licked his lips.
“Will you try with me? I deserve misery, but that doesn’t mean I wake up every morning cheering when it chooses me.”
He means will I try despite the fact we don’t get along.
Despite the fact that I hated him for years after he rejected me and vice versa.
Despite our past and uncertain future.
Will I try?
I nodded.
“It was enough, your pound of flesh, for me to at the very least try, Ace.”
"Swear it.” His eyes started to blink slower. “Swear it and seal it.”
“I swear it,” I whispered and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And I’ll seal?—“
He pulled my head down and kissed me deep.
He tasted warm.
Safe.
Intoxicating.
For one brief moment, grief left.
For one tiny flicker, I really was his.
And then the nausea came again.
Not from the kiss, but from the betrayal.
I was carrying another man’s baby, and my heart was buried right along with his body.
I had nothing to give this man.
He’d given me his flesh.
All I had were my words.
We each only had half of what we needed.
We would make it work.
I pulled back as his head lolled to the side. The last words he whispered were, “I haven’t had one of those in a while.”
“A kiss?” I whispered leaning forward.
He shook his head and frowned, his eyes not opening. “No…a really good dream.”
"Dream?
” I repeated. “What dream?”
“The one where I finally told someone about the waffles—and she kissed me anyway.”
And to think…
just a few days ago, he was still calling me Little Nightmare.
I spent the rest of the night awake.
And when midnight hit—my birthday.
I cried.
I just wasn’t sure if it was for him. Or me.