Page 101 of Saved By Two

"I'm so sorry." Fresh tears spring to her eyes, and I wipe them away with the pads of my thumbs. "I should have listened to you," she says with a hiccup. "It's all my fault."

"Jessica, it's not your fault. And you have nothing to apologise for. You're safe now. That's all that matters." I lean down and kiss her forehead.

"You're not mad at me?" she asks, sitting up in my lap.

"No, Jessica. I'm not mad at you." And it's the truth. She wouldn't be the woman I fell in love with if she were anyone else. Am I livid that the cunt took her? Yes. Do I blame her? No.

"I'm mad I wasn't able to protect you."

Her brows furrow. "But you found me. How did you find me?"

I lift her wrist. Her palm scratched and muddy.

"With this." I tap one of the diamonds encrusted on the gold bangle. "One of these is a tracker."

She twists her wrist and studies the diamonds. "I don't understand."

Noah walks in with a tray of mugs and some biscuits, and I carefully lift her off my lap until she's sitting at my side.

He hands her a mug. "Careful, it's hot."

Her hands tremble as she blows softly, taking a tentative sip. Noah hands me mine, holding it by the rim so I can take the handle, and then rushes back into the bathroom to check the bath. When he returns, he sits on her other side.

"What did you mean about a tracker?" she asks, staring at me over the rim of her mug.

I lick my lips, trading a glance with Noah before lowering my eyes back to her.

"When we got you the bangle, we added a special tracker just in case of an emergency. It means we can track your location so long as you're wearing it."

She swallows hard, and I go still, ready for her to tear it off her wrist. Or tell us how wrong it was to do that without her knowledge.

"I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't." Her eyes dim as she stares ahead, gaze unfocused.

Noah reaches out for her wrist and turns the bangle, his expression contemplative. "We never wanted you to feel violated, and in hindsight, we should have told you."

"So, when you said about not being able to see it—the connection always being there, is that what you meant?"

I nod. "Partly, yes, but as we said, we wanted you to have something tangible from us."

Noah holds out a plate with an array of all her favourite biscuits, and she takes one. Bringing it to her mouth, she nibbles around the edges.

Noah stands, and she startles, almost spilling her tea. I quickly reach out to take it from her trembling hands.

"Shit, sorry." Her voice wobbles.

I place the mug on the floor as Noah gently guides her to her feet. I stand.

“Come on, sweet girl, let’s get you in the bath. You’ll feel better after.”

She limps slightly, keeping the weight off her foot. As he guides her past me, her hand shoots out, and she grabs my hand, entwining our fingers, and I follow them into the bathroom.

Noah turns off the taps, and I let go of her hand and ease her out of Noah's hoodie. She shivers, wrapping her arms around her middle. Under the spotlights of the bathroom, all the marks marring her skin are highlighted. Her top is ripped, and there are marks leading down to her breastbone.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, as vivid memories of her arriving here beaten and bruised swirl through my mind.

Noah steps round to her side and waits for her to answer.

“No, I'm not ready to," she admits, her eyes cast down.

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