Page 115 of The Devil's Scars

He’d hurt her feelings. Deeply. Yeah, sure, he had his reasons, and he was certain that she understood them, but still… he’d hurt the woman who had stood by him, propped him up, pulled him through. She’d given parts of herself to him over the past four months, given parts of herself that he could tell were a surprise to her, given them selflessly and generously, even when it was fucking hard for her because she’d had nothing much left to give at the end of the day – and this morning was the one time that she’d reached for him for affection, the one time that she’d given in to her own shrieking cravings and needs for closeness. For the first time, she’d asked him for something that she needed, badly.

And Scars had freaked out.

Worse… he’d pushed her away. Physically and emotionally.

God, the look on her beautiful face when he’d done that. The pain and hurt was so breathtaking, he’d blindly turned and left the house, just because he couldn’t look at that raw, ragged emotion for one second longer.

So not only was he a prick who shoved Zoe away when she wanted physical affection and a simple human touch, he was also a fucking coward who ran when faced with her crushed spirit.

He’d shut up and stopped using his words and run away. The exact things that he’d accused her of doing to him all those times. God, he was a hypocrite.

Well. Time to fix this. If he could.

Jesus Christ. Please tell me that I can.

He opened the gate, walked up the path, then the porch steps. He moved the baby monitor a bit, then sat next to Zoe on the swing.

They sat quietly, then Scars said, “Hi, baby.”

“Hi.” She gave him a quick look, then turned her eyes back to the inky sky. “How was physio today?”

“Great, actually.”

“Good.”

Silence fell again, and Scars took a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry, Zoe. I’m sorry that I shoved you away.”

Her eyes fell to the porch floor now, and he took her hand, felt only slight resistance. He tightened his grip a bit, determined to not deprive her of his touch this time.

“I shouldn’t have done that, baby,” he said. “I know you know why I did, but it should never have happened. I should have stayed and talked to you.”

“Don’t you –” She paused and cleared her throat. “Do you miss touching me?”

“Oh, God. Zoe. So goddamn much. You have no idea. It’s all I can think about sometimes, how your skin and hair feel and smell. You’re silk and honey, baby, moonlight and sunset, and I’m addicted to you. Not touching you, kissing you… I miss it like I’d miss air.”

“Do you – do you miss me touching you?”

“That’s a bit more complicated to answer.” Scars took a deep breath. “Short answer: fuck, yes. Long answer: I miss the way that my body was before when you touched it. How it moved under you, on you, in you. How it experienced sensation when you ran your fingers over it. I – right now, I have almost no feeling at all in large parts of my back. When you put your arms right around me this morning and really held on, it was – a shock. I knew you were touching me and holding me, but I didn’t feel it.”

“So… is that why you pushed me away?”

“Yes and no. I mean – it was unnerving. Freaky. I knew that the skin grafts would mean lack of feeling and nerve damage. Of course I did. I’ve been poked and prodded by doctors, and my physiotherapist is always moving my body into position, and twisting and turning me, and you and Keira give me little kisses and nice cuddles, so it’s not like nobody has touched me for four months. I was fully aware that my back and legs are mostly numb. But what really kinda jolted me was…” His voice trailed off.

“What?”

“I – oh, God, baby. I felt your need behind your hug and kiss this morning. I could tell – I knew you wanted to make love. I could hear it, as sure as if you’d whispered it against my lips, and begged me to take you right there in our bed.”

Zoe’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, hoping he wouldn’t see them. He did, of course, and so gently, so carefully, he used his fingers under her chin to lift her luminous gaze to his hungry one.

“Nobody’s touched me like that for months, beautiful,” he rasped. “Hell, nobody has touched me like that ever, before you. And it – well. It scared the crap out of me. I panicked, and I bolted the hell out of there, and I’ve felt like an asshole all day about leaving you lying there like that, feeling so rejected, all because I’m a goddamn idiot sometimes who doesn’t talk to you enough. I’m so, so sorry.”

“So I guess you’re not ready,” Zoe said, trying to be cheerful and optimistic. “It’s OK.”

“But see, that’s the thing,” Scars said slowly. “I am ready.”

Zoe’s emerald eyes found his blue ones, and once again, for the millionth time, she though of endless sky and perfect ocean. “You – you are?”

---