Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE
The cold tile pressed against my cheek, the smell of dirt and blood and piss filled my nose.
Tears poured down my cheeks, filling the cracks of broken tile where dirt and piss had missed.
A wrenching sob filled the air, electric tingles racing across my fingers.
I moved them, tentatively at first, relief inside mixing with my grief as the ticking clock of my watch melted into the night.
It had happened unexpectedly.
I was eating tacos and drinking a jalapeno margarita, the sound of the ocean’s lapping waves in the background.
A sound caught my attention: laughter.
It was light and airy and the only reason why I even heard it was because there was an all too familiar undertone to it: fear.
The sound wasn't genuine, but born from a fear too strong to contain it.
My insides slithered, warning bells tolling inside my mind.
The couple was entertaining three men in suits a few tables from mine.
I watched the entire display with hypnotic attention. A hand on her mid-back, fingers clenching into the skin of her thigh, a warning glance.
She continually looked to him: am I doing this right? her eyes seemed to say.
His only response, a meaningful pinch when she hadn't.
The meeting continued, the attention of the three men beginning to wane and drift to the woman as the alcohol flowed, and yet, the man seemed to grow angrier and more possessive of her.
It was all too familiar.
You can look, but don't touch.
This one belongs to me, even if she doesn't want it.
"Excuse me," the woman stood up. "I need to use the restroom."
"Sit down." A low growl, the man clasping her arm tight, sliding down to her thigh roughly, even though she'd immediately sat. He moved towards her ear, whispering, the menace clear from where I sat.
Her downward glance, her face falling, the curling inward of her shoulders.
Now that I was looking, I could see the marks on her skin, silvery and thin. Red and rash.
The signs of abuse.
His complete and utter dominance over her body, her mind.
Sit down, Manuel's voice in my mind. Still lingering like a phantom ghost.
He was right.
He would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I'd jerked to my feet, a wave of emotion washing over me. Tears prickling my eyes, my whole body shaking. I rushed to the bathroom, my insides heaving, my whole world honing in on the moment as memories slammed into me.
Sit down, punta. It had been a favorite phrase of his. I couldn't take a piss when I wanted, or get a drink of water. Be the perfect, submissive wife.
Don't move. Don't touch. Don't think. Don't do anything without his permission first.
Tears sprang to my eyes, overflowing. Sobbing wrenched from my body. When would this ever stop? These emotions inside.
He was dead, dead, dead, and yet, my body, my mind, didn't know that.
I pressed my face to the dirty floor, sobbing, cry it out, my therapist told me. Release the trauma.
I thought going to therapy was going to be relieving. Would be a happy, enlightening time in my life.
Instead, it was angry, all consuming, exhausting.
God, I was so tired.
My fingers dug into the tile, the dirt rough on my fingertips, the smell of piss and vomit filling my nose as I sobbed, sobbed, sobbed.
He was dead , I tried to tell myself, but my body, my heart, my soul, didn't care.
I was still shaking, my whole body trembling, don't move. The low growl of a voice.
I literally couldn't move, frozen from his venom and his whims as he hurt me.
"Tati?" A soft voice. A familiar voice, warped from time.
"Knight?" I couldn't believe it; I must be imagining him. It had been five months since Costa Rica.
Then, a soft touch, grasping me tightly but gently, pulling me up and into his arms. His body, so familiar, against mine as he cradled me.
"Knight. What are you doing here?"
"I've always been here." He held me, and the sobbing began again. "I'll always be here when you need me, my love." He kissed the top of my head. "My polva. Always."
I cried harder now, the pain and anger and sadness overflowing once more. I hated how much I'd missed him. How much I needed him in this moment.
"Always," he whispered against my skin, his fingers clasping me so tight and yet, so gently at the same time.
He held me for a long time, long after my sobs ebbed, my sadness draining until I could only stare at the grungy wall of the bathroom, both ignoring the knocks and then the pounding on the bathroom door.
Finally, I looked up, catching creek-brown eyes. "How did you know where I was?"
He pulled my hair behind my ear, his fingers gentle. "I've been following you since you left me."
"But?" I was so confused. "How come I've never seen you?"
A soft twist of a half-smile. "Give me some credit, Tati. I know how to be invisible when I need to be."
"But," I frowned, not understanding, "why?"
"I made a promise." Eyes determined. "I left you once, baby. Never again."
I blinked, for some reason, things were not sinking in. "Wait. So you've been following me this whole time? I ran away, months ago."
He nodded. "Yes."
"Following me?"
"Yes."
"But." I could only stare in astonishment. "Why?"
"You know why, Tati."
"Tell me, Knight," I whispered. "I need to hear it."
His throat bobbed, the words stuck in his throat, but he forced them out through sensual lips. "Because I love you. Because I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Because I made the mistake of abandoning you once, and I will never make that mistake again."
"But..." repeating the word for what seemed like the billionth time, "I..." I could only stare at him in astonishment. Then, after a few stuttering thoughts, I managed to get my brain working. I shook my head. "I can't, Knight. I can't rely on you to get me through this. I need to do it on my own."
He stared at me lazily, leaning against the wall. A shoulder lifted. "I know."
"But... What does that mean?"
"I'm here, in whatever capacity you need me. I can be invisible. Or I can be here. You don't have to shoulder this alone. You never do."
"But what if I want to?"
"Then that's okay, too."
We stared at each other, the silence between us not uncomfortable as I tried to understand what he was saying. "So, you're trying to tell me," my brain was slowly getting it, "you're going to follow me around, but not force me to be with you."
"Yes."
"And..."
"And what?"
"Why?"
He leaned forward, kissing my forehead again. "Because you're worth it, Tati. You always have been. I've just been an idiot."
He pulled me into his arms, positioning me so I was comfortable, leaning against his chest. I felt tucked in, safe . "Is that okay?"
I didn't answer for a long moment, considering his words.
Was it okay?
I closed my eyes, resting, until, finally mumbling against his chest. "Yes."
Because it was. Something inside me hummed at his closeness. I'd missed him, achingly bad. Wished he could do exactly this. Be here for me when I was alone and tired. When I needed a shoulder to cry on.
And, even though I wanted to learn to stand on my own two feet, I still wanted him when I was weak and needed him. Maybe I didn't have to be alone to be strong.
"I might run away tomorrow," I warned him, but he chuckled, the sound low, familiar, and comforting.
"I know, polva," a soft kiss to my head. "I know. And that's okay."
I smiled, so weary, but happy, now that he was here with me.
He held me for a long moment, until it was well into the night. And we just laid there, on the floor of a dirty Mexican hotel bar bathroom. Him in his thousand dollar suit, getting dirty, because of me.
Because I was worth it.
I smiled with the thought, because ... because I was beginning to believe it.
"They're in room ten."
"Hmm?" I shifted my head, not opening my eyes because they were too heavy.
"The couple," he clarified. "They're in room ten. They'll be here for three more nights. Then they're off to Taiwan."
I was silent, considering his words. "How do you know that?"
"You doubt the Cadwell charm, darling," he purred, huffing, and I chuckled.
Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
I felt a shoulder come up. "It helped me, anyway. To deal with the anger."
He was saying what I thought he was saying.
"Mmm," was my only response, but inside, my mind lit up like a Christmas tree. A small, somewhat sick part of me had been happy when I'd figured out that Knight was killing the men who paid to fuck me.
It had given me strength to look people in the eyes, a confidence to my step, even when others around me looked down on me for being the whore of the island.
Knight Cadwell, the prince of the island, cared enough for me to kill for me.
I'd gotten my worth from him then, but now...now I had to get my worth from myself.
"Room ten," he whispered once more before shifting, somehow holding me as he pulled himself upwards, carrying me to his room, which happened to only be down the hallway from my own.
We showered together, his touch soft and gentle, caring and attentive.
I was exhausted by the time we crawled into bed, and he only kissed me softly, gently, then held me in his arms as my eyes drooped, the whispered words in my mind as I fell asleep. "It's okay if you're not here when I wake."
And, as I fell asleep, I knew exactly what I was going to do when I woke.