13. I’ll Be Damned #3
And for once, I wish she would. Just so I know she’s alright.
Sitting her at the bathtub’s edge, I easily pull her hair from its ponytail and quickly tie it into a knot at the top of her head, knowing how mad she gets when her hair gets wet when it’s not hair wash day.
She watches me, her eyes just flickering over my features, like she’s committing me to memory.
Like I might leave her.
Like I might leave her, again—my brain corrects.
Something in me breaks.
“Aubs, I won’t leave you. I promise.”
She goes still. I realize I don’t have the privilege to promise her anything, not anymore. I lost her trust. I lost a lot of people’s trust. I lost my future—my fight. I lost to the voices in my head that whispered to me.
Silence.
That was all I really wanted.
But now, now I want noise. Her laughter. Her voice. Aubrey singing loudly to my record player.
I clear my throat, asking from where I’m kneeling before her. “I’ll stay if that’s what you want?”
She nods. Just once.
Enough for me to catch a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
She forces a smile, and my chest sinks with relief at the sight. Turning around, I offer her some privacy to get undressed.
It’s not like I haven’t seen every inch of her, that I don’t have that image burned into my memory—that I don’t think of her every time I grip myself late at night.
But I know how vulnerable she is right now, how unprotected she likely feels—that’s exposing enough without her stripping down naked.
When the water sloshes, I risk a glance over my shoulder—just enough to make sure she’s decent. My eyes find hers. I find her sitting in the water, knees pressed to her chest, covering herself.
She should know she doesn’t need to hide from me.
I appreciate every version of her. The good ones, the broken ones—each of them are worthy of admiration.
“It’s alright,” I murmur as I move to the bath’s ledge, rubbing my hands over her bare shoulders, “It’s all better now.”
My words feel like a lie.
Because is it all better? I still don’t know what happened. I still don’t understand what I’m fighting against. I still don’t know what she needs in order to forgive me.
I close my eyes, looking away.
After a while, she begins to tense under my touch, and it should break my heart. But it doesn’t.
Because I know that means she’s coming back to me.
Back to this version of Aubrey Vaughn, who does not want me.
The Aubrey who believes I regret every moment I’ve ever spent with her.
When, truly, it is the exact opposite.
But for tonight, I’m okay with that; I can live with it. I’ll be whatever version of myself she needs me to be.
“Liam—” she calls at last.
My fingers still stroke her, brushing them over her wet skin, trailing from her neck to down her back. I whisper, “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs so softly.
I question for a second if that’s what she said at all.
My fingers stop circling over her skin.
“Why on earth are you sorry?” I ask, tilting my head at her.
“So many things,” she chokes, and I’m worried she’s going to start crying again.
I touch her cheek, her skin beneath my fingertips still so cold.
I trace the line of her cheekbone and jaw. “Don’t you apologize, not for one second, Aubrey.”
Her eyes find mine, still sparkling with tears, their brilliance a painting of sadness and beauty, a breathtaking combination for a man who appreciates design in any shape.
And that is what she is to me—an art piece, a creation worthy of admiration in any form.
I lean in, ignoring the voice that screams at me not to, and press a kiss to her forehead.
“Aubrey,” I choke as she nods subtly. “Don’t you ever be sorry. Don’t you ever let yourself feel less for simply feeling—” I choke, dropping my fingers away from her.
We sit in silence for several minutes until I know that the water is turning cold. I retrieve a towel and wrap it around her shoulders. “The water is cold, and I, I—” I rub the fabric over her shoulders, trying to warm her, “I think I should go.”
But she freezes, wrapping the cloth around her as she stands.
The sound of water sloshing fills my ears as she uses my shoulder to balance herself and step over the ledge.
My muscles tense as she runs her fingers through my hair.
So quick, I have to blink to make sure I haven’t fallen asleep. That this isn’t all a dream.
It feels so right…
And yet so wrong.
I fight the urge to jump back, to force myself away from her and her clearly confused feelings.
But then she admits, “Stay—please don’t leave me alone.”
I let out a deep breath, my shoulders sagging. My body wants me to stay.
But my mind knows it’s a very, very bad idea.
“Please,” she whispers softly.
And I nod because no one can tell a Vaughn no. Especially not me.
Aubrey Vaughn could tell me to go to hell, and I would. And for a brief second, I think she already has, because staying here, all night, with her and our lingering touches and wandering eyes—I’m certain that’s some specially designed hell just for me.
But I’ll be damned, because I can’t—I won’t leave her like this.