Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JESSICA
Deny it all you want, but you’re mine.
The words seem to echo inside my brain. The destruction I saw when I entered my house is still vivid in my mind.
The photos.
Somebody’s been watching me.
Not just that.
They took photos.
Hundreds of photos.
All scattered around my ruined bedroom.
Panic rises in my chest, making a lump form in my throat as my heart rate kicks up.
You’re mine.
You’re mine.
You’re mi—
A warm hand falls over my stiff fingers. I tense at the sudden touch. I blink, my vision clearing as Matthew comes into focus. Worry is written all over his face as his palm covers mine, gripping tightly, his other one cupping my cheek. “Breathe with me. Just breathe with me.”
He inhales deeply, and I mirror him. Sweet air fills my lungs, making that tight knot in my chest loosen.
He slowly lets it out and then repeats the action again, and I follow his lead.
In and out.
Slow and steady.
In and out.
“That’s it. Nice and easy.”
He slowly forces my fingers to uncurl before intertwining his with mine.
“You’re safe now.”
Am I, though?
He was in my house. He trashed it. My home. My safe space. Instead of backing down, Damien only seems to be escalating more each day.
Deny it all you want, but you’re mine.
“You’re safe,” Matthew repeats, making me realize I voiced my question aloud.
Something dark shines in Matthew’s brown irises. A fierce determination. But there’s also something else. Something I don’t quite recognize.
“He’s not going to get to you.” Matthew skims his thumb over my cheek. “I promise.”
His words send a shiver down my spine.
I believe him.
Matthew isn’t going to let anything hurt me.
But what if he gets hurt in the process?
The thought makes me shudder. Matthew doesn’t miss it. “C’mon. You’re cold, let’s get you inside.”
He stands up and extends his hand to me. I slip my palm into his and let him pull me up, my gaze going to the little cottage in the woods. I was so out of it, I didn’t even realize we had left my place, although I can’t say I regret leaving it.
Will I even be able to go back to my home?
Just the idea of it makes bile rise in my throat.
Matthew opens the door and leads me inside. The darkness has my pulse racing as my fingers grip his tighter. The light flickers to life, and he faces me, not missing a thing.
“You’re shaking. It’s probably the adrenaline crash. How about a bath to warm you up?”
I nod wordlessly, and he leads me down the hallway and into the bathroom. There is a white tub in the corner. Letting go of my hand, he starts the water before turning back to me.
“Arms up.”
I do what he says, letting him take off my clothes without protest. I should be more self-conscious that he gets to see me naked like this, when I’m already so vulnerable, but I’m not. It actually feels nice to have somebody take care of me for a change.
He navigates me to the tub, helping me enter as another shudder rocks my body. The warm water burns my icy skin as the scent of lavender fills my nostrils.
Closing my eyes, I pull my legs to my chest, my arms wrapping around them as I press my forehead against my knees, letting out a shaky breath.
“I’ll leave—”
My head snaps up, my ears buzzing as I look at Matthew, who’s already taken a step back. I extend my hand, my fingers wrapping around his wrist and holding him in place.
“Don’t.”
His brown eyes meet mine.
“I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Matthew’s jaw clenches, nostrils flaring. I expect him to refuse me, but he kneels on the floor next to the tub.
That panic inside me eases a fraction now that he’s here, my shoulders relaxing. My fingers slide down, intertwining with his, and he returns my grip.
For a moment, we sit in silence. I lean my head against the tub, my free hand brushing a dark lock from his forehead. His hair is messy, as if he’s run his fingers through it a hundred times.
“Are you angry with me?” My question is soft, barely a whisper.
“No,” he mutters, but I don’t miss the strain in his words.
“Liar. You’re pissed. I’m pissed at myself too. You were right. I should have made a report ages ago. I should have said something. Maybe the—”
Matthew tilts his head to the side. “This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”
“I feel like I should have done so much more. Maybe if I hadn’t provoked him…”
“This. Is. Not. Your. Fault,” he repeats slowly. “Not dating him. Nor breaking up with him. Nor moving on. This is all on him. You hear me? It’s all on him.”
Tears fill my eyes, the frustration and the fear I’ve been fighting since I got home finally slowly seeping out of me, leaving me spent.
“Thank you for coming for me,” I whisper, my lips brushing against the back of my hand.
“I’ll always come for you, Trouble. Always.”
I’m not sure if it’s the determination in his gaze or the way he holds me like he’s afraid I might slip between his fingers, but I believe him.
We stay like that until the water turns cold. Matthew pulls out a big, fluffy towel and wraps it around me before lifting me to sit on the counter. This time, he’s the one cleaning up my wounds and scrapes. Then he takes me to his bedroom.
He opens one of the drawers, pulling out a shirt and slipping it over my head. The material is soft, falling to mid-thigh, and smells like him.
Matthew takes me in slowly. And this time when I shiver, it doesn’t have anything to do with the cold and everything to do with his heated gaze burning my skin.
“Off to bed with you,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.
He flips down the comforter, and I settle on the mattress before he tucks me in.
I glance at him, nibbling my lip. “Matthew?”
“Hmm?”
My fingers grip the blanket. “Stay with me?”
His body stills for a long moment, the tension growing. I’m just about to tell him to forget about it when he relents.
“Okay.”
I watch him take off his uniform, letting it fall to the floor, until he’s only in a tight pair of boxer briefs. My cheeks flush, but I don’t turn away as he slips into bed beside me, lying so we’re face-to-face.
“You should sleep,” he whispers, but I shake my head.
“I don’t know if I can,” I admit. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”
Damien.
I shudder at the mere thought of reliving what happened in my dreams.
“Eyes on me.”
I blink, Matthew’s stern face coming into focus. He extends his hand, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “He can’t get you here.” His hand falls on the mattress between us, and I slip mine into his. “You just keep your eyes on me.”
So that’s what I do.
Gazes locked, fingers clasped together, our breaths mingling in the space between us.
I’m not sure how long we lie here, just staring at each other.
But he doesn’t waver or pull back.
He just holds me.
Those chocolate eyes are the last thing I see before sleep finally claims me.