Page 184 of In Love with a Ruthless Man

Her throat tightened.

Fawn knew she should say something.

Thank you.

I’m sorry.

But she couldn’t.

Shame had engulfed her, and it was all that she could feel and taste. Shame defined her, and she had the silliest and most terrifying fear that if she spoke, her shame would afflict them, too.

The door closed behind Grant’s parents.

A shadow fell over her.

It was Dana, and Fawn couldn’t help stiffening when she saw her mother reach for her—-

“No,” she choked out before she could stop herself.

Dana’s arm fell back to her side, Fawn’s mother catching back a sob. “Oh, baby.”

Self-loathing turned her shame into something more excruciating as Fawn realized how much she was hurting her mother. She said jerkily, “Sorry. I’m...sorry.”

“Why would you think you have something to be sorry for, baby?” Dana’s tone was anguished. “You werebrave. The bravest girl in the world, and I’m so proud you’re my daughter.”

When Fawn didn’t speak, Dana lifted a hand, hesitated, and then she pressed her fingers ever so gently to the top of her daughter’s head, scared that the slightest touch would make her baby break.

“I love you.”

Fawn didn’t answer, but her knees slowly went up, and Dana’s heart broke at the way her baby hid her face with her arms. She wished she had something else to say, something that could take away her baby’s pain, but Dana was at a loss. What Fawn had gone through was beyond even her worst imagination, and in the end all she could do was turn to Grant, her eyes more eloquently expressing what she couldn’t speak in words.

Please help her.

And then it was just Fawn and Grant.

She heard him take a seat next to her bed, still not the same Grant he used to be, but he was getting there, and she was happy for him. As much as her heart could still beat, as much as she could remember what it was not to feel empty, she was happy for him.

Minutes passed.

Grant said haltingly, “It’s just...like...o-old days.”

Ah.

“W-won’t y-you look up?”

Fawn shook her head.

“Because you’re u-ugly?”

“No.” She waited for herself to laugh, but nothing came. She waited for herself to cry, but the tears refused to come.

She was completely empty.

Slowly, she lifted her head, turning to Grant.

Her flesh was no longer smooth, her skin nothing but a mass of scars. She was the stuff horror movies were made of, and yet Grant’s gaze didn’t swerve from hers.

“I w-was proud, you know,” she told him tonelessly. “Because I thought...it was—-”

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