37. Chapter 36
Chapter 36
O pening her eyes was one of the hardest things Summer had ever done. She’d escaped what was happening to her body by imagining Ramiro. It was better to stay in her daydreams.
Even when the anger had spilled over, Ramiro had stayed. He’d told her he’d never leave her. That couldn’t be real. Her mind liked to soothe her with pretty lies that let her hide from the pain.
Opening her eyes would take all that away. She struggled to do it, so worried he wouldn’t be there.
He was the first thing she saw. He sat in a chair pulled next to her bed, and his hand covered hers, the white bandage around it no longer soaked with blood but a clean white against his tanned skin.
Her grip clung to him.
“I’m here, baby girl,” he murmured .
How many times had she imagined those words? They’d covered other sounds, the grunts, the pants, the laughs, and the voices, voices she never wanted to hear again.
She closed her eyes, but when she opened them again, he was still there.
“Say it again?” she begged.
“I’m here.” His fingers squeezed hers. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”
Her hand loosened as her body relaxed. She enjoyed the way his hold tightened, as if he would never let her go.
This, just this, having him there and having it be real, was all she needed.
S ummer paused in the bedroom doorway. The lights were on, making the space bright, spotlighting a flowered comforter she’d never seen before. It didn’t look like the same room she’d been taken from.
She still didn’t want to go inside.
Summer had already changed into her sunflower pajama set, her favorite ones. The medicated wipes they’d given her from the hospital had soothed some of the pain of what had been done to her. The doctors had also prescribed bed rest until she checked in with her obstetrician. She was tired, and she wanted to sleep.
But she really didn’t want to lie in that bed .
Ramiro exited from the bathroom, wearing a pair of his sleep pants. He hadn’t worn them to bed ever since they’d started sleeping naked in each other’s arms. Her eyes dropped to the carpet, which had no stain at all, even the area where he’d been shot.
His feet filled her vision, and then his hands lifted slowly before running soothingly down her arms.
“I’m not tired yet. Up for watching some reruns?”
She nodded, turning toward the hallway.
She found herself staring at the blue bowl more than the show, remembering the day he’d bought it for her, and her heartbeat slowed. The moonlight made the bowl on its stand near the sliding glass door glow. She curled her body toward Ramiro’s on the couch. Her head found his shoulder, the one without the bandage, and she shut her eyes.
Ramiro’s scent, vanilla and spice with a bit of citrus, wrapped around her. His lips grazed the top of her head. The voices on the TV melded into a thrum, and then she didn’t hear them at all as exhaustion pulled her under.
S ummer’s scream cut off as she jerked awake in bed, her body shaking. Ramiro reached for her, his touch soothing, familiar, as he stroked her trembling hand. Summer couldn’t breathe. She always felt like she couldn’t breathe in the nightmares .
“I’m here. I’ve got you,” Ramiro whispered, waiting for her eyes to lift to his before he pulled her in against him.
Her face pressed into the warmth of his neck, and she finally pulled in air, his scent wrapping around her. His good hand brushed over her hair in a slow, repetitive caress.
Her trembling slowly eased as she lay in his arms, staring at the puckered scar on his shoulder.
That first week after, she hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, but she could sleep here again, as long as Ramiro was with her.
He never came to bed naked, and his touches always set out to soothe her, to comfort. Weeks had passed, but besides light brushes of his lips against her hair and her forehead, he didn’t kiss her, not really. He was sweet and patient and careful.
So careful, she often felt like she would break.
“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.
Her throat tightened, too tight to give him back the words, but he never held it against her, no matter how little she said it to him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love him. She still loved him more than anything. The words just struggled to come out.
She closed her eyes, refusing to cry. Breathing out slowly, she dragged in another deep breath, and another, until her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
“You had another nightmare,” he said.
The words weren’t a question, so she didn’t respond. Her fingers curled into his chest before she could stretch them out again, resting her hand over his mostly healed bullet wound instead.
“I’m here, if you want to talk.” His voice hesitated, almost trailing away, but his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
She stared at his throat, listened to his heart thrum a little faster. “It’s not what you think.”
Ramiro continued to stroke her hair.
“It’s not—” Her voice broke, and she swallowed, her fingers stroking over his bullet wound, mapping the pattern of the slightly raised flesh. “I keep having nightmares about what happened to me before you found me that night on the bridge.”
His hand paused, the fingers pressing against her scalp.
“The memory of that used to be fractured. I had scattered moments of awareness, but mostly it had been a vague fog. But now, after—” That puckered wound of his soothed her as she touched it. Ramiro had been hurt too, but he was healing. “The memory became clearer, and it’s like it just happened.” She pressed closer until her rounded stomach bumped against his.
Ramiro’s hand dropped, stroking along the side of her belly.
“What happened recently is disjointed because, most of the time, I was imagining being safe with you.” Her hand moved around his shoulder until she was hugging him. “I hid in moments just like this, and none of the rest could touch me. I mean, my body hurt, so I knew it was happening, but their faces aren’t clear, even Ovidio’s. Instead, I see the boys from the party, taunting me, hurting me.”
Ramiro pulled her in closer. Her lips pressed against his throat, feeling the way he swallowed.
“That can’t be any easier on you.” His voice hitched, and he swallowed again. “I wish I could take it from you, remove all of what they did. I wish—” His words choked off as his arms tightened.
She held him back. “I know,” she murmured against his skin. “But you can’t.”
Having him there, so close, being all wrapped up in him, it helped. It also hurt, because there were moments when she thought it wasn’t real, when her mind whispered that she was imagining things, but she never wanted to be without him.
She listened to her heart beat as they breathed together, neither of them falling asleep again that night.