Chapter 46
T he next few weeks blur together as I slowly but surely get caught up on everything I missed.
Our lunch that day only served to remind me of everything I missed, everything stolen from me, which I was determined to rectify.
One phone call later, and Donna and Cora were enroute, ready to give me a crash course on the last few years, with receipts to back them up in the form of camera rolls.
Seeing videos of Jonathan walking Cora down the aisle, of their father daughter dance, knowing I should have been there to witness it, relights the need for revenge inside me.
Yes, Kyle and Benedict may have been dealt with, but the fact remains—there are still more monsters like them out there, preying on the vulnerable.
Clinging to that rage and using it to bolster my strength, I’ve shared as many details as I can with Jonathan without laying myself bare and picking at the barely scabbed over wounds.
I’m sure he’s worked it out for himself, but the thought of putting those horrors into words isn’t something I can stomach just yet.
Getting the all clear from the clinic was a miracle that nearly brought me to my knees with relief.
They might have tarnished me in a hundred different ways, but at least they didn’t give me something that would linger forever.
“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Looking up at Jonathan, I bite back a whimper. The man wears the hell out of a suit, but seeing him in a tight tee and sweatpants? Lord have mercy.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just looking at the photos Cora left,” I answer, gesturing to the wedding album Cora had dropped over on her way to the airport.
Apparently, Logan wants to give Abigail the proposal she never had, and that includes getting her nearest and dearest to meet them on his private island.
It’s incredibly romantic, yet more evidence he is Freya’s son through and through.
Holding up a bottle of wine in question, he pours us each a glass before coming to join me.
The heat of his thigh pressed against mine burns through my thin leggings.
Passing me a wine glass, he gently takes the album and lays it on the table between us. Twisting to face him better, I ignore the jolt that goes through me as his knuckles brush my bare shoulder. Quirking an eyebrow at him, I wait for him to say what’s on his mind.
“I’ve been thinking –”
“Careful you don’t strain yourself,” I quip.
“Smartass,” he says fondly before continuing, “Why don’t you join Donna and the others at one of their girls’ nights?”
“Trying to kick me out? See, I knew you wanted your space back.”
He scoffs. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m glad you’re here. You bring life to this place, which has been lacking for a long time. But it would be good for you to ease yourself back into the swing of things.”
“I’ve been weighing it up, trying to get the courage.
Going from being confined in a nasty basement, chained nearly every hour of the day, it’s quite a shock to the system to be free again.
To come and go as I please. I can’t help but doubt it will last, that someone won’t drag me back to that hellhole the second I drop my guard. ”
“Helen…please. Who hurt you? Give me a name,” he begs, dr opping his forehead to rest against mine. Agony bleeds from his every pore, lashing at me, making me bleed all over again as I stumble through baring my soul to the man I never stopped loving. Even when it hurt to do so.
“Angus. Kyle. Benedict. Rodger. Too many to count, in more ways than I could ever have imagined. Johnny…I’m ruined. They made sure of that,” I sob, squeezing my eyes shut. “It hurt so bad. Not a day went by without someone raping me, torturing me, not to mention my punishments. Please. I can’t.”
“Hush, you’re safe now. I swear, no one will ever touch a hair on your head again.
They’ll have to go through me. I should have been there; I shouldn’t have let you go.
Sweetheart, can you ever forgive me?” His strong arms pull me into his embrace, and the safety of being in his arms cause the last of my walls to crumble between us.
“It was never going to be that easy. Angus said as much when he…” I trail off, unable to put into words what was done that day. I’m shaking uncontrollably when he gently pulls back to cup my face between his palms, rubbing circles on my cheekbones as soothing words leave his lips.
“Johnny, he…. they… God, it was awful. It hurt so much; I wanted to die. Death would have been a kinder fate. There’s nothing they didn’t do, didn’t ruin.
How can you possibly sit there and look at me as anything other than ruined?
” I sob the words like acid as he holds me tight to his chest. It’s like opening a dam I can’t close as I purge the last of my horrors to him, laying myself bare at his feet and hoping he doesn’t crucify me for it.
I pray he doesn’t look at me differently.
Eventually, he encourages me to open my eyes and release the death grip I have on his wrists.
“There’s my pretty girl. Give me those baby blues.
You never need to hide from me, understand?
Their actions are their burden to bear, not yours.
You survived. That’s the most important thing, and if it takes you twenty years to feel safe, then that’s what it takes.
I’m not going anywhere. Nobody and nothing will ever change that,” he vows, imploring me to understand.
The intensity in his eyes should scare me, but instead, it strengthens me.
“I never stopped dreaming about you,” I confess on a shaky exhale, watching as my words land like a blow. He bows his head, kissing my forehead, letting his lips rest there for a moment.
“I never stopped loving you.” His words are so quiet, I don’t think I’m meant to hear them.
But I do, and they change everything.