Chapter Twenty-One
Alice
H ot water pummels my naked body as I stand beneath the pulsing spray of the shower. Steam billows the enclosed space, soothing every inch of my aching muscles, including my heart.
After arriving home from the station, Braxten went to help his father and Justice chop wood for tonight’s fire. So I seized the opportunity to take a shower, needing the alone time to collect myself.
To say that I am emotionally spent would be an understatement. I feel like I’ve been swept up into a tornado of never ending-turmoil. Add in the constant dead ends we continue to encounter, and it’s as frustrating as it is defeating.
If only we could catch a break and find Hobbs—I refuse to call him my father—then we could all move on with our lives because that is what I want more than anything.
To experience a life without fear and pain.
To give and feel love freely. I want to take Thatcher’s advice and figure out who I am.
To rediscover my likes and dislikes, to find out if I have any talents, create new hobbies.
I want to do it without having to look over my shoulder every second, and I want to do it all with Braxten because I could never imagine a life without him.
With that last thought in mind, I finish washing and shut off the water. Opening the door, I adorn my robe then leave the bathroom.
My wet feet leave a trail of footprints on the tile as I head into the bedroom and search through the closet for something to wear, unsure what attire is appropriate for a fire.
I end up deciding on a pair of black leggings and a long, thin, olive green sweater. Across the room, I grab a pair of underwear from the dresser, a smile forming as I choose something with Braxten in mind.
Shaking my head at myself, I close the drawer and look up, pausing at my reflection in the mirror, something I usually try to avoid.
I take in the mostly absent bruises on my face and notice something different about me, something that wasn’t there when I woke up in the hospital weeks ago. The woman back then was a battered stranger who felt alone and empty.
This one, although still fearful of what lurks, has a sparkle of hope in her eyes that wasn’t there before. She has memories now of just how beautiful life can be, all because of one man.
It makes me realize that the bruises on my face aren’t the only wounds that are starting to heal.
Opening the top of my robe, I look over the rest of my body and find those marks have mostly faded too, becoming nothing more than a painful stamp in time.
It’s a moment of victory that is short lived when I think about what marks my back. Scars that I have yet to see for myself because some things can’t be unseen. I wasn’t strong enough to face them then, but that was the woman weeks ago. Not the one now.
That thought has me bravely turning my back toward the mirror and dropping the robe further, letting the collar of it fall to my bottom, the silk material draping in the crooks of my arms.
Despite the bold move, I find my eyes closing in fear. Gathering every ounce of courage I have, I open them, a subtle breath catching in my throat at the sight I’m met with.
Long, white, angry scars run crisscross along my skin, the damage starting below my shoulder blades, descending to my lower back, and even further to my bottom.
You’ve been a bad girl, Alice. It’s time for your punishment.
The remembrance of my nightmare floods to the surface, immersing me into a pool of emotions. Sadness, regret, and most of all, hatred. I hate him for what he has done. Not only to me, but to Braxten and his brothers as well.
I’m so lost in it all that I don’t hear anyone enter the house until it’s too late. The bedroom door that I thought was closed pushes open.
“Brax, what happened with—” Knox comes to an abrupt stop just inside the room, his cold, dark gaze taking in the mangled skin of my back that is openly on display.
Horror engulfs every fiber of my being, snapping me into motion. I hurry to lift the robe back in place, tying the belt tightly around my waist.
“I thought my brother was in here.” The stone set in his expression never wavers, despite the ugly mess he just witnessed.
“He’s out chopping wood with Justice and your father.” The words are barely formed through the humiliation lodged in my throat.
The only response I get is a nod before he turns to leave.
“Wait!” I blurt out before I can think better of it.
His footsteps cease, but he doesn’t turn around, his back continuing to face me.
Knowing there is no backing out now, I take the leap that I’ve been scared to make.
“I just want to say that I’m sorry.” My voice is quiet, despite my attempt not to cower.
“Sorry for the trouble that I brought you and your family, sorry that I come from a horrible man who hurt you and your brothers, but most of all…” I swallow thickly, before forcing the most important words out.
“I’m sorry for falling in love with your brother and that it hurts you. ”
The last comment has him turning around to face me, his sharp gaze colliding with mine. I begin to worry that I should have kept that last part to myself, but I can’t take it back because I mean it.
“I don’t want to take him from you,” I continue softly. “I just want to love him too.”
Silence descends as I wait for him to say something…anything, but all I get is the same emotionless look I always do. My head lowers, heart plummeting as I realize this isn’t going where I hoped it would.
“Yeah, well, maybe you and I have more in common than I thought.”
My head lifts at his response and I witness something in his expression that isn’t usually there. The hard set to his jaw is still the same, his cold presence never far, but there is something else in the darkness of his gaze, something…vulnerable. Something that rivals the pain I bear in my soul.
Without another word, he turns and walks away.
His response might not be the approval I long for, but the small interaction is the most I’ve gotten from him yet, and I let that be enough for now.