Page 62 of When Hearts Awaken

My body is clammy, and I’m sure I look disgusting, but the look in his eyes, the intensity, it threatens to unmoor me.

There’s pain, guilt, aching vulnerability.

And love. So much love for his family.

He rakes in a ragged breath, his hand sliding up to cup my face. I close my eyes, relishing the heat of his palm.

“How could they not see you?” I whisper. “You wear your heart in your eyes.”

You’re a good man, Charles Vaughn. If I’m not careful, I may lose my heart to you.

I hear a sharp inhale—it could be his or mine—and he cradles my head against his chest like I’m the most important thing in the world.

And in this weak moment, with my body battling a virus, my nerves and head on fire, I don’t want to fight the emotions swirling inside me.

I want to let him in, and I know that should scare me, but I’m too sick to care.

I want one selfish moment to remember forever.

Pressing a soft kiss on his strong chest, I feel his muscles tensing. I murmur, “I see you, Charles Vaughn. One day, they’ll see you too.”

My energy spent, my muscles slowly loosening, I let sleep overtake me.

This time, there are no nightmares, no dark ocean.

Only reassuring, peaceful sleep.

The next morning when I wake up, he’s gone. I’m about to question if everything is a figment of my imagination—my loneliness inventing someone to care for me.

But then, when I make my way out of the bedroom to a sparkling clean apartment, I find a beautiful bouquet of roses sitting next to my newly unpacked self-help books on the coffee table.

Healing from Darkness, the critically acclaimed memoir of a rape survivor, is on the very top of the stack, its shiny black cover beckoning me.

A wine-red rose, its thorns shorn, lies on top of it, along with a note.

My heart pinches at the smooth stem of the flower, wondering if anyone will ever love the rose with its prickly thorns before I pick up the small card and read the masculine scribble on it.

Taylor,

I hope you feel better today. Perhaps we’re two sides of the same coin—both wearing masks to face the world. But if you’re game, if you’re brave enough, step into the light. With me.

Without darkness, there’d be no light.

You’re not alone.

Charles

P.S. I’m sorry for scaring you that night in the lounge. I never meant for it to go that far and I apologize for misconstruing your consent. Please forgive me.

A sob tears from my throat and I clutch the note to my chest.

Chapter 27

The clouds are heavyand gray, the humid air clinging to my skin long after I escaped the elements. I stare out the window of the town car as my driver heads toward ABTC. The city never stops—rain or shine, thunderstorm or hail—us New Yorkers forge on.

Much like the woman I can’t get out of my mind.

Battle weary and full of invisible scars, her thorns and attitude are defense mechanisms hiding a damaged heart. Last night, as I held her in my arms, I got a glimpse of the tenderness and vulnerability behind her walls. Followed by an answering surge of protectiveness pulsating inside me.

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