I still felt like I needed a shower after speaking to him though. Seeing him reminded me of too much and the memories were vivid. I felt his words smack me across the face, his yelling reverberating off the kitchen cabinets, his hands creeping over me and his palm slapping me across one cheek and then the other.
His words might not have impacted me the way they used to, but just seeing him was like putting my memories on instant replay.
Luke’s firm grip around my wrist pulled me from my thoughts. I tensed against his touch but remembered it was him, not Michael touching me, and relaxed.
“You’ve been dabbing at my face for a while now. I think it’s clean.”
I tried to smile, but I knew he’d see right through it. Luke always saw right through me. I set the wipe on the table and surveyed the damage to his face and then on his hand.
“I’ve had worse injuries, Angel. Years of fighting made for some pretty gnarly cuts and bruises. Few broken bones and several concussions, so this is nothing.”
Although his confession didn’t do much to ease my worry about him, it did keep my mind from running back to the same things.
“Are you ever going to explain why you settled on fighting? It was before Valerie, right? So, it couldn’t have been her that led you to it.”I was hoping to keep my thoughts from my own past and discussing his seemed like a good way to do that.
His hand had slipped from my wrist and gripped my fingers as his thumb lazily caressed the back of my hand in slow circles.
His expression was unreadable, except I saw a flash of something across his eyes. Something that made his pupils dilate and his eyelids tighten. But then he chuckled. “If you tell me all of your secrets, I’ll tell you mine.”
I rolled my eyes at his avoidance of the topic. There were only two topics in which he did that now: fighting and his parents. Maybe I was trying to find something where there was actually nothing, but they seemed to be connected.
I wanted to press him for information but was overtaken by my exhaustion from the night. It couldn’t have been past nine p.m., but it felt like it’d been hours since we’d left to go to that damn coffee shop which I would not be stepping foot back into.
With an exhausted sigh, I let him get away with skating around the topic once again. “I don’t think I have any secrets left.”
“Then tell me what’s on your mind right now.” He squeezed my hand, urging me to talk to him. And I wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry you were pulled into the middle of this. I’m sorry that you got hurt because of me.”
Luke’s hands reached out, cupping the back of my thighs, and pulled me closer to him. My thighs rested on the inside of his own as his hands held me to him in a possessive touch that sent shivers up and down every inch of me.
“I would take that same punch a million times over if it kept him away from you.” He was serious, too, I could see in his eyes that he’d do that and likely even more if it meant I wouldn’t have to confront Michael again. “Honestly, I wish he’d been less of a fumbling mess so I could have actually beat the shit out of him.”
I scoffed. “Well, I’m pretty sure you broke his nose, so if that’s any consolation…”
“What else are you thinking about?” He scrubbed away the tension between my eyebrows with his thumb. Luke was so much taller than me, and I’d gotten used to having to stare up at him when we were talking, so it was strange to see him looking up at me from where he sat in his chair.
My fingers itched to trace the planes of his face. I wanted to run my fingers through his thick, black facial hair and over the scar on his opposite cheek. I wanted to stroke his slightly creased forehead and run my finger across his hairline before I dipped my hands into his hair. I wanted to do all those things over and over again while his bright-green eyes watched me until they eventually closed with the feeling of my hands on him.
I wanted to memorize the man before me, who would happily spill blood for me. I wanted to memorize him inside and out.
“His words hurt, but not like they used to. I don’t feel so powerless against him anymore and that’s a good feeling.”
“That’s so good, Angel,” he whispered, not breaking our eye contact and not moving his hands from the backs of my thighs. Not being able to hold back anymore, my fingers brushed his uninjured cheek, grazed his jaw, and fell down his neck.
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling. It was good to know that my touch affected him as much as his touch affected me.
“But…” I continued. “Seeing him and sitting across from him brought back all of the memories again.”
He nodded but didn’t speak as I continued trailing my fingers wherever they wanted to go, with no rhyme or reason, along the planes of his face.
“I thought I’d moved past a lot of it, but I’m not sure if I have or if I ever will. I know it’ll get better, though. That over time, it won’t feel as fresh and raw as it does right now and knowing that makes me feel better. It also makes me want to replace those stained, awful memories with new, good memories.”
He wetted his lips, and I traced around them. I wanted to kiss him.
“You’ve already helped me create new memories. That stupid Halloween party was one of them. And then eating burgers after I rescued Sadie. And my birthday when you made me dinner and bought me a cake. Our little tryst through our bedroom windows. The night of the storm was also such a good memory after you fixed the gutter and then laid me out on my kitchen table and made me come again and again.” At my mention of our night together, his hands flexed on the back of my thighs. I took it as a sign to continue. “And I think we’re going to create so many new memories. But there’s one specific memory I want to create tonight.”
And I replaced my fingers along his lips with my own.