Page 41 of Wild Pitch

Riggs carefully lowers us to the floor, pulling my trembling body into his lap and holding me tightly as I dig my nails into his skin. I let out heaving sobs, releasing every ounce of pain that’s flowing like hot lava through my veins.

“Shhh, baby,” he whispers softly, rocking back and forth in an attempt to soothe me. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He kisses my hair as I continue to break in his arms, whispering gentle words that I can’t make out over the sound of my own cries.

It seems like hours have passed before the tears begin to slow and I’m able to catch my breath, finally settling into his lap and praying that he never lets me go. If we never make it off this floor, I’d be perfectly fine with that, as long as it means I never have to know the feel of my skin not pressed against his in such a cruel fucking world.

“Monroe,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t down here. I don’t even know how he got onto our floor. I swear I’ll make sure he never comes near you again.”

“Don’t be s-sorry,” I stutter, still trying to calm down completely. “You h-had no idea that he even existed. I should’ve t-told you why I moved to Hope Harbor, but I didn’t want to relive any of it.” I drop my head backdown, attempting to fight more tears as they threaten to erupt again.

“Look at me,” he commands, lifting my chin. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter.”

I nod before nuzzling back into his warm chest. I want to tell him everything, but I’m too shaken up from hearing my father’s hateful words to even know where to start. I can’t force the conversation, but it needs to happen sooner or later. Riggs deserves to know the whole story—the reasons why I am the way I am.

“What if he’s right about us?” I whisper, letting another tear fall down my cheek.

“Baby, no,” he says, nudging me so I’m sitting up straight, facing him. “None of what he said was true. He was just trying to tear you down so you’d second guess everything you’ve done. We’re solid. I’m all in with you.”

I sniffle. “Yeah, you arenow.But what happens in five years when you’re ready to move on to someone younger? Or someone who doesn’t push back every time she gets upset?” I pause, swallowing. “I know I’m a lot sometimes. What if the newness wears off and you decide I’m not what you want? What ifI amonly good enough to be your whore?” I whisper, shame washing over me at the thought.

“This is fucking crazy,” he says, standing abruptly and taking me with him as he stomps toward the stairs. I try to pull away, but he only tightens his grip, not letting go as we make our way down the hall

“Riggs, no! Put me down!” I cry, kicking my feet in an attempt to make him release me. But he just keeps walking, not stopping until we’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom. He sets me down, holdingme still so I’m face-to-face with my reflection. I’m shocked at my appearance. My eyes are swollen and red from crying. The skin between them is scrunched together from stress. My shoulders slump forward, and I look every bit as defeated as I feel. I turn my head, ashamed of how I allowed myself to be broken so quickly, but Riggs grabs my chin roughly, forcing me to focus on my own face in the mirror.

“Look at her,” he demands roughly. “Tell me what you see.”

“Please don’t make me do this,” I beg. “I can’t.” I don’t want to tell him that after a few hurtful words from my father, I’ve lost sight of the girl I fought so hard to be.

“You can,” he replies. “I’m not letting you leave this room until you do.”

I stare, taking in my reflection before I speak, almost so quietly, that I’m surprised he can even hear me. “She’s weak.”

Without a word, he yanks the straps of my sundress down my shoulders, making me gasp in surprise. Pulling it below my waist, he releases the garment, letting it fall in a heap at my feet. He disappears for a moment, plucking something from the dresser before returning to his place behind me. It’s not until I feel it gliding along my bare skin that I realize it’s the permanent marker from the day I had him sign things for my charity basket. He takes his time writing something before looking up at me in the mirror.

“What else?”

I swallow, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “She’s not pretty enough.”

He unfastens my bra, letting it drop alongside my dress before working my panties down my legs. I stare at mynaked body, numb and hardly blinking as he returns the marker to my flesh and resumes writing.

“Again,” he demands.

“She’s a whore,” I whisper, choking on the word as it comes out. Tears slide down my cheeks, and he growls in response, putting the marker to my skin again and writing out the word.

“Again.”

“She’s unlovable,” I sob, dropping my face into my hands. My body shakes as I cry, but he doesn’t allow me to hide it, spinning me to face him. He gathers my wrists in one large hand, pulling them down until they drop at my sides.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, cupping my face with the hand not holding the marker and smoothing my tears away with his thumb. “While you’re looking at yourself and seeing all those things they’ve made you think you are, I’m behind you with the truth. I know the real you, Monroe.” He grips my chin, turning my head so I can see the reflection of my back in the mirror. My sobs come harder when I see the words written in permanent ink across my body.

“They told you that you were weak, baby. But you aren’t.” He angles me so that the wordSTRONGis in clear view. My heart speeds up and I turn to look at him, watching his eyes as they fill with moisture.

“They told you that you weren’t pretty enough, but you’re the most breathtaking creature I’ve ever seen.” He angles me the other way, and I turn to see the wordBEAUTIFULwritten below my shoulder blade. I stare at it for a few more seconds before he speaks again.

“They told you that you were a whore for wanting tofeel pleasure, but you’re a fucking goddess, Monroe. And I’ll drop to my knees every day to give you what you deserve,” he says, and I turn once again to see the wordSEXYacross my hip.

I’ve never felt more adored in my entire life as I stare back at myself, letting his words erase every negative thought that’s ever been put into my head. I was conditioned from as young as I can remember to beg for crumbs of affirmation, always getting just enough to keep me desperate for more. My parents used that as ammunition to get me to do what they wanted, showering me with praise when I did what I was told. I caught on as I got older, but no matter how hard I tried to remind myself of my worth, I guess I didn’t realize until just now that the damage they had done was far deeper than I ever knew.

He leans down, ghosting a gentle kiss over my lips, and I feel a tear fall from his cheek to mine. He pulls back, lifting my chin as he returns the marker to my chest and writes again. “Fuck anyone who’s ever made you feel unlovable, baby. You aren’t,” he whispers, turning me to face the mirror. The wordLOVEDis in big, bold letters directly over my heart. I suck in a breath, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

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