Page 66 of Stitches

Everything felt like a mess. I was sure I may have gotten Church to give him another chance, and for that I was grateful. I’d had to step outside my comfort zone with him at breakfast, but I had to admit I found it refreshing and exciting. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. It had taken all my bravery to do it, but I felt like I was getting better at taking control.

Of course, there was Sin looming over my head. Being terrified of him in the dark woods had almost made me want to rethink running out of the house during my meltdown. I really thought he was going to finish what he’d started all those weeks ago.

He’d surprised me though.

He was different. Kinder. Gentler. He still scared me though because I’d been bitten by him before during a moment of kindness that he’d offered me.

Well, mostly kindness.

And his chest.

He’d carved my name deep into his flesh. He was going to scar horribly. It made my guts twist knowing he’d done that as a way to punish himself.

I never thought my name could be a punishment, but I was fast learning it was definitely a possibility.

That hurt me more than I knew I should let it.

I stared at the wall in the living room, feeling like I needed to breathe. All of the things were piling up on me, sending my stress levels soaring. Sin. Stitches. The awful memories from the facility. Asylum. Mirage. Different sides to the same damn coin.

Ashes sank down beside me.

“Hey, heaven,” he greeted me, placing a tender kiss atop my head. Cady had walked me back to the house before she’d left to go back for her therapy session. She was adamant that I try to spend some time with Stitches.

He wouldn’t let me though. Getting him to even look at me was one thing. I was really beginning to feel the sting of rejection. I knew he was hurting and needed time, but I was hurting too. It seemed unfair.

Everything felt so broken. I didn’t like it. I wanted to make it better, but I wasn’t sure how.

I needed space. That was what I needed.

I turned to face Ashes, and he immediately focused his attention on me.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. He held his hand out for me, and I took it, biting my bottom lip as I contemplated the words I needed to use.

I blew out a breath and carefully wrote each letter on his hand so he could decipher it.

When I was done, I stared at him, waiting for his answer.

“Why?” The hurt in his voice made my insides writhe like a basket of snakes. “You want space? What does that mean? You want to leave?”

I reached for his hand again, knowing I screwed it up. Again, I wrote on his hand. When I was done, I waited for him to figure out my words.

“You want your own space. Here. Right?”

I stared back at him and bit my bottom lip.

“OK. We can do that if it’s what you want. Of course we can,” he said, cradling my face, relief written all over his. “It’s stupid of us to think you didn’t need some space of your own. You want to paint?”

I widened my eyes at him, so grateful he understood.

“Of course,” he murmured. “I’ll talk to the guys tonight. We will make it happen.” He leaned in and brushed his lips gently against mine. “Anything for you.”

A sigh of relief left me, and I moved back in for more of his kisses. He obliged and gave them to me slow and sweet, as was his style.

Before long, we were kissing deeply, our hands all over one another. He dragged me onto his lap and moved me along the hardness he was sporting.

“If we deny ourselves, it’ll be worth it later,” he said between kisses as he helped guide me along his jean-clad length. “I promise. I’ll make love to you in the light from the flames someday. It’ll make me so happy.”

I wanted that. I wanted him to be happy.

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