Page 72 of Scarred Souls

Instead of heading for the water, she cast me a pitying look. “You’re not going to wear your shirt and jeans in again, are you? I’ve seen your scars, Vaughn. You don’t have to hide them from me.”

She was right, but that wasn’t my primary concern.

I glanced at my jeans and long-sleeve T-shirt. They really were cumbersome to swim in.

My gaze returned to Hope’s. “You have to promise to stay clear of me.”

If I had to help her like I had yesterday but without clothes as a safety barrier, I didn’t know how I’d react.

Hope frowned. “Vaughn, exactly how bad is your condition?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s bad.”

“That’s not very helpful. Can you at least tell me what it’s like when someone touches you?”

I contemplated how best to explain. Usually, I’d get uptight discussing this stuff, but for some reason, talking about it with Hope didn’t cause me to freak out.

I cleared my throat. “If someone reaches for me with their hands, it sends me into fight-or-flight mode. Contact while I’m wearing clothes is uncomfortable. Skin on skin is…triggering.”

“How so?”

“It sets off flashbacks to my time in captivity and either ends with me having a panic attack or lashing out violently. There’s a name for it. Haphephobia. An irrational fear of touch.”

Hope shifted on her feet. “Have you tried therapy? There must be some kind of treatment.”

I nodded. “Exposure therapy. Tried it, and my shrink ended up with his arm broken in two places and a dozen stitches in his face.”

Hope winced.

“Now do you understand why you need to keep your distance?”

She tilted her head. “Are you worried you’ll hurt me?”

“Damn right I am,” I said bluntly. “Did you not hear the part about bleeding wounds and broken bones? Hope, a professional tried to help me, and he ended up in the ER.”

“Yes, I heard you, and I can see you’re filled with guilt over it. Who else have you accidentally hurt?”

“A couple of guys on the team when they caught me by surprise. Nothing they couldn’t handle.”

“And how many women?”

My jaw tightened because her line of questioning concerned me. “None. Yet.”

“Because you don’t let them close to you, and those you do have their hands bound.” A statement. Not a question. Hope had learned of that particular requirement for intimacy last night.

“It’s too risky otherwise.”

“Oh, Vaughn.” Pain filled her expression, and she took a step closer before catching herself and pausing her advance.

“I don’t want your pity.” I held my hand up. “You of all people should understand that.”

“Fine. But answer me this. A man hurt you, right?”

“More than one.” Standing here on the beach, I did my best to block their faces from my mind.

“Maybe a woman’s touch would be less confronting.”

No. Nuh-uh. No fucking way.

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