Page 54 of What Lies Within

Digger kills the engine and sticks his hand out for me to brace myself while getting off. I wobble a little on my feet, struggling with the strap of the helmet. I can't say why, but the restriction fills me with dread. I want it off my head, I want space to breathe, I need to breathe, I…

"Better?" I could cry when Digger carefully tugs it off my head to hang it on his bike's mirror.

“I… It’ll be dirty.” I didn’t even think when he put it on me. The blood in my hair, the mess.

“It can be cleaned.” He pulls me against him again, burying his face against the side of my head and muttering, “Just like you.”

I don't protest when he hitches me against him. Don't fight it when he urges me to hold on tight, even though the blood on my clothes, my face, and my hair covers him in the same.

I take the comfort offered and cling to Digger as he walks us across the yard, my arms around his neck and my face buried against his shoulder.

He walks us inside, mutters something to whoever approaches, and keeps going—he keeps walking until we're up the stairs, and then we're there.

We’re in his room.

Hisroom.

Yet he doesn’t stop until he has me in the attached bath, kicking the door shut behind him and lowering himself to the edge of the small tub. My feet dangle inside. I should get off him and make this easier. But I don’t want to. I can’t.

I cling to that man like he’s the last vestige of proof that I haven’t completely fucked things up. That somebody could still love me. Still care about me enough to hear me out. To let me try again.

To fail.

"You don't need to talk about nothin' until you're ready, baby." His palm slowly strokes lines up and down my back, tucked beneath the leather barrier that still clings to my soul like a brand.

Did they know what they were doing when they gave me these colors? Did they realize?

Every time I feel like running, every time I want to hide, the weight of the patch on my back is my sensory reminder to take a deep breath. To believe.

To trust.

“I’m sorry I snuck out.”

"Hey." He turns his head, peppering my jaw with kisses. "I'm sorry we made you feel like you had to."

"I'd understand," I say, despite the need to force the words through my thickened throat. “I'd understand if you wanted me to leave or if you told me that you’ve made a mistake.”

He exhales, heavy and quick, yet Digger doesn’t say a thing. His jaw presses against my neck as he grinds it back and forth.

My heart rackets, rattling the bars of its cage and demanding an answer. Am I right? Does he think I was a mistake? Maybe he doesn't know how to tell me.

Maybe he pities me.Fuck.I could handle that least of all.

I don’t need pity. It doesn’t fix a damn thing.

“You know,” he finally murmurs. “I’d thought about tellin’ you the same.”

His confession jerks my head back. Hands laced behind his neck, I lean away to see his handsome face. His tortured, beautiful face. "Why would you say that?"

Digger’s lips quirk in a lop-sided smile. “Baby girl, I want to give you everything you deserve. Fuck, I want to honor and worship you, get that doubt out of your fuckin' head, and make you see yourself the way I do.” He pauses, wincing a little. “The way Tyke does. But I screw it up.” He shrugs. “Got perfectintentions in here”—he taps his temple with a thick finger— “but they don't translate to these." Digger lifts his hands on either side of us, glancing at the tattooed flesh. "It ain't anything new." His gaze finds mine. "Nothin' particular to you, Rae. Just how I am." He drops his gaze, his brow twitching into a frown. "Makes me mad. Makes me fuckin' hate myself when I see others do the shit I should have. See other people figure out the stuff that seems so hard for me. I don't want to let you down, baby girl." His voice drops to a whisper as he admits, "Don't want to make you any worse than you already are."

“Don’t say that.” My chin crumples.Fuck this shit.The tears come before I get a chance to steel myself, to shove them down and deny how deep he can reach within me. “Don’t say that when this is the only place I wanna be right now.”

He dares to look at me, a soft smile on his lush lips.

I'm lost in those forest-green eyes. Drowning in their depths while he tenderly lifts a hand and brushes my hair over one shoulder. "Much as I want to stay like this, too, I need you to hop off so I can get the shower ready."

Of course.Using his shoulders to brace myself, I lift one leg and then the other out of the tub and rise to my feet. The muscle beneath my palm rolls as he steadies me, and I fucking itch to keep my hand there, to explore every sweep and curve of his physique.

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