Page 45 of Mine to Tease

“You didn’t fail me, Damon,” she says then.

I shake my head, dropping her gaze. “This isn’t about me, Ana. I…I don’t need you to try to make me feel better after everything that happened to you.”

“I know. It’s just…you saved me, Damon. I was going to die and you saved me. I was hopeless and you gave me hope.”

“But this never should’ve happened. I never should’ve let you out of my sight. And I should’ve been quicker. I should’ve gotten to you sooner. Knowing that I didn’t, knowing what happened to you, a part of me died tonight, Ana. And I will never be able to apologize enough. I will never be able to make this right.”

“It’s not your job to make it right, Damon, because you’re right, nothing and no one can.” I look at her then and see the pain in her eyes. Her lip quivers as she remembers back. I know the medication she’s on is keeping the worst at bay, but what she experienced is now so permanently a part of her, nothing will ever truly be able to numb that pain. “A part of me died too,” she admits, her voice breaking. “And I don’t know how to deal with this, Damon. I… It doesn’t feel real. It’s like it was all a bad dream, but my body knows it wasn’t even more than my mind.”

She takes a moment to look at herself outstretched in bed, but she can’t see anything with her long pants, long sleeves, and the pound of blankets I have stacked on top of her. Perhaps it’s for the best. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “But knowing that I have you, knowing that you’ll be patient with me as I heal gives me hope. Hope that one day I will, but also hope in us. Because if we can survive this, we can survive anything.”

“And we will, my love. We will survive. You will survive,” I assure her and she nods. “Now, tell me what you need. Do you need to talk? Do you need water, food?—?”

“You. I need you,” she says, cutting me off. “Right now, I just need things to be still and quiet and dark. And I need you to hold me. I need you to make me feel safe, not by promising me that I am and that what happened tonight will never happen again, because you can’t control that. But make me feel safe by not letting go of me.”

“As you wish, my love.” At that, I plant a soft kiss on her hand and then maneuver around the room to turn off all the lights. I also make sure the door to my bedroom is locked, though I know Gio nor any of the guys downstairs would dare bother us. Once the room is to Ana’s liking, she asks me to remove her heart rate monitor and her IV and I do. Finally, I kick off my shoes, take off my jeans, and slip beneath the warm, thick comforter.

Ana turns to face me while Brinkley once again returns to lie close to her feet. With her face buried in my chest, I wrap my arms around her and hold her as tightly as I can without hurting her. I know she still has a lot of bruising and small cuts that are tender to the touch. Softly, I run my palm up and down her spine in an effort to soothe her as fresh tears pour from her. Then I switch to stroking her hair. Finally, she stills in my arms and all becomes quiet.

“I thought I was going to die,” she whispers. “I thought they were going to torture me. They were going to torture me. And I was so afraid, Damon.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Out of instinct I pull her tighter against me as my cheeks ache with emotion. Though this time I feel more fury than sorrow or gratitude as thoughts of how much worse this all could’ve been flood me. I know this night has left me with my own set of scars or perhaps reopened old wounds I’d never really dealt with regarding my parents. But, like Ana, I’d rather not explore all of those feelings right now, so I do my best to quieten the rage inside me and just hold her like I know she needs, like we both need. This healing will take time for the both of us. But, for right now, I just want to focus on her, holding her, and the fact that I still can.

“Ana, I know this is going to be hard, but I hope you can rest easy knowing that those men have drawn their last breaths. They can’t hurt you anymore. They’re gone. And even though there is still pain, the worst of this is over. It’s over, baby.”

She nods and repositions herself in bed with her back pressed against my chest. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her tightly against me. I fight my own exhaustion until I feel the tension in her body release. Once I’m sure she’s asleep, I give in to the darkness and pray that tomorrow is kind to both of us.

46

For once, I wake before Damon. The room we’re in is pitch black. His arms wrapped around my torso, he holds me tightly, so tightly I fight the urge to pee to lie next to him a little while longer. I feel his soft breath against the back of my neck while Brinkley’s heart beats against my feet. Given what all happened yesterday, it doesn’t seem possible to smile, but I do. It’s fleeting, just like the danger we faced, because even though this moment feels normal, yesterday revealed to me how quickly things can change and how easily I can be ripped away from my little bubble of happiness and love. Recognizing that is the scariest thing of all. And I don’t know how I’ll ever truly shake this fear. Maybe I’m not meant to. But I also don’t want to live in it. I guess I just have to figure out a way not to.

Quietly, I scooch out of bed and fumble in the darkness for my phone. I find it on the bedside table, along with some water and medicine I’m meant to take. With it and the water and pills in tow, I use the flashlight feature to guide me to the en suite. Brinkley hops off the bed and follows behind me, per usual. As I reach the bathroom and flip on the light switch, both of us are stunned by the bright light that beams from the antique bronze fixture and my reflection in the black-framed mirror before me. My reflection makes me crave the darkness in more ways than one. Perhaps I could live in it until— But I know healing doesn’t work that way. Processing the deaths of my parents taught me as much.

I set the things filling my hands on the countertop to touch my cheek and then my lip. The pain has subsided and the split of my lip is drastically better than it was yesterday, but there is still a lot of bruising on my pale skin. I avert my eyes then, take my medication, and follow that up with the salve waiting on the marble countertop. I read the instructions on how to apply the jellylike substance and do so. While I’m at it, I slip off my pants and apply a little to my knees and shins where I find small cuts and scrapes from the glass and rough concrete. It instantly makes them feel better. So does relieving myself after being pumped full of fluids.

I remain on the toilet a bit longer than I need to, thinking, resting, taking it all in until my mind becomes too overwhelmed to think at all. I stand, wipe, wash my hands, and return my eyes to my reflection once more. I’m tempted to take off my baggy clothes and examine myself closely. But I don’t. Even though I know I can’t avoid what happened, I want as few mental reminders of last night as possible. When my scars and bruising fades, hopefully so too will the most painful of memories. Until then, I think it might be best to avoid mirrors and people and distract myself with something happy. Happy? Like a wedding? I shake my head. I’m deflecting. And how can I picture myself wearing a wedding dress when I look like this? But you won’t always look like this, Anastasia. As the thought comes to me, I hope it’s also true that I won’t always feel like this. “I won’t always feel like this,” I tell myself. It’s a lie I’ll repeat until it’s the truth.

It’s then that I notice the ring on my finger. It was hidden by the long sleeve of Damon’s shirt and I suppose I’m too out of it to notice the unfamiliar sensation on my left hand. Then again, maybe I didn’t notice because it was always meant to be there, just like I’m meant to be here, even if here is hard right now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Damon asks then. I jump at the sudden intrusion and pinch my eyes closed. “Oh, sorry. I should’ve knocked or something.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I say, turning to face him. “I’m thankful for the interruption. Keeping my mind occupied and my eyes away from the mirror is probably best right now. Although this, this is certainly a worthy distraction.” I hold up my hand to show off my ring.

Damon smiles and extends his hand. I take it. Gently, he pulls me closer to him and I step into his embrace, placing my hands on his chest. He looks at me and says, “It was my mother’s. I hope it’s to your liking. If not, I can always make up for it with the wedding band, anniversary gift, birthday gift, you name it.”

“I love it,” I assure him. “The rubies are a nice touch—different, beautiful, fiery, strong. All things I aim to embody, even though I don’t feel so in touch with those parts of myself right now.” I lower my eyes and they gloss over as my lips fall into a flat line.

“Hey,” Damon says, doing his best to pull me back to him and out of my thoughts. “You are beautiful, Anastasia. Beautiful, different, fiery, strong, relentless, passionate, intelligent, and so many other things. In every moment, the happy and the tragic, you are everything. But if it makes you feel better, know that this moment will pass. And, with the help of Dr. R, it’ll pass sooner than you think.”

“I hope so.” Once more, I lift my eyes to meet his gaze. Damon leans down and offers me a kiss but he waits for me to take it. I can sense how nervous he is. He’s unsure of how to handle me, what to say, what to do. Even though he’s doing an amazing job, he doesn’t want to hurt me or make me feel uncomfortable or trigger me. Little does he know, he’s the one person who makes me feel calm, the one person who makes me feel safe, the one person who gives me hope. “I love you,” I whisper. At that, his lips draw up into a smile.

“I love you too.” He kisses me again, gently yet passionately. “Now, are you hungry? There’s a really nice spread downstairs. Though, fair warning, a few of the guys from last night are still here.”

“Guys?” I ask, my brows crinkled.

“The ones I work with,” Damon clarifies. “The ones who helped rescue you. It was really late after the debrief and there’s plenty of rooms here so… But I understand if you don’t want to see anyone. I can just bring you up a plate?—”

“No, no, it’s fine. If I stay cooped up in this room—or any room, for that matter—I don’t know where my mind will take me. I should try to eat, or at least try to act like I’m alive.”

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