Page 48 of Salvation

“What wasIthinking?” I snap. I look at him and shake my head. I can feel the stinging creeping into my nose. Is it really this hard for others to see? Do people truly never know what’s going on behind closed doors? Notice a little girl’s behavior or see the bruises and not question it for one second? I shouldn’t be the one being chastised. The entire goddamn town should be showing up at that asshole's door with pitchforks. In a quieter voice this time, one that sounds much more broken than before, I say, “You have no idea what you’re even talking about.”

I go to move past him, over this conversation, but his fingers wrap gently around my wrist. He holds me in place, like he knows that something else is at play, and he justwantsme to break. “Stop! Stop running from me, Blake.”

“What did I tell you about me not being your problem?” I bare my teeth at him but haven’t moved away from his touch yet. “Back. off.”

He moves us so that we’re fully facing each other now, both of his hands wrapping around my biceps. “Everythingwhen it comes to you is my problem, Blake. What about that don’t you understand?” I shake my head, but he presses on. “Just tell me why it mattersso muchthat you’d risk your own life for a girl you’ve only just met?” His voice comes out as a plea, and much more vulnerable than I expected. It only causes my temper to flare.

“Because someone should have helped me!” I yell as I rip my arms away. “Because I was that little girl, Wesley!” I’m full-on shouting now. Not even thinking about how someone may overhear us. I’m spilling everything I’ve kept a secret from him. I’m angry, so unbelievably angry that I can’t stop this kind of outburst. “I mean seriously? Why do you think I left? You think I wanted to leave my home? To leave our moms. To leaveyou?” My voice breaks on the last sentence, and my entire world feels like it comes crashing down at the same time.

“What did you just say?”

My chin wobbles as I turn back to look at him. His voice is both calm and lethal, and his eyes so dark they could rival the midnight sky. His entire demeanor sends shivers down my spine, but I ignore them. I knew the day would come when I’d have to tell him, I just didn’t expect it to come so soon. Too soon.

“My father. The night I left…I shouldn’t even be alive, Wesley.” For a few minutes, he doesn’t speak. His eyes just jump between mine, trying to read whatever may lay within them. Then they land on the scar that’s on full display. The one that he’s only seen since I’ve come back to town, and one I definitely didn’t gain from my reckless childhood. He runs his hands through his hair before stepping forward, and I don’t move back, too scared I’ll crumble with one step.

“Why?” He reaches for that arm with the scar and gently runs his thumb over the raised skin. His touch burns and something unreadable falls on his face. So many emotions, and I can’t help but be in awe at how quickly he processes them. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question makes me laugh. I laugh at how thick his voice is. But there’s no humor in it. It comes out all wrong and broken. He’s now piecing together that I’ve had this scar since I arrived home. It’s not like it’s hard to miss. But just the mere thought of where it came from…I can’t stomach the idea of Elain having to carry a visual representation of her abuse for the rest of her life. One that people will always question, never allowing you to justforget.

“And what could you have done?” I ask him, “We were kids, Wesley. I was just a kid. And so is she.”

I finally crack on that last word, a dam bursting open in my chest. A few tears leak down my face. And then I’m sobbing. It doesn’t stop, only gets louder, and faster. Everything is suddenlytoo loud. I can’t breathe. I hurt; it all hurts, and thistime, not just for me, for Elain, for myself, and for any other child who can be so thoroughly shattered because of another’s harsh hands. “So is she.” I say again. Again, and again, and again.

My knees give out, and I fall to the floor and wrap my arms around myself. I don’t stop saying it until I feel warm hands pulling me into a lap and placing a hand on the back of my head. “It’s okay, baby, It’s okay.” He rocks me, running a gentle hand over the spot where his hand came to rest.

But that touch,that gentle touch,is what has me coming back to my senses. To the reality of my situation. I scramble out of his hold and get to my feet. “Don’t. Don’t! I don’t want pity.” Snot and tears mix, and I’m glad I’m too upset at the moment to care. “Not from you.”

He just stares at me, and he looks so heartbroken that it physically hurts to look at him. I whisper so quietly that only we can hear. “This - this doesn’t change anything. Itcan’t.”

So, I turned and walked out, leaving him there on his knees. Not sure where I’m going, but knowing I need to get out. I know it’s my house, but Wesley won’t leave. Not now. And I need space. But as I walk away, I’m left with a sinking feeling that I’ve shattered his heart for a second time.

And I’m not quite sure how I’ll forgive myself.

Chapter 48

Wesley

This doesn’t change anything.

But it did. It changed everything.

Blake was wrong. I don’t pity her—I admire her. A little girl who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, and a woman who found the strength to rise after watching it all crumble beneath her feet.

The anger that I felt for her is gone in an instant. All six years of it. Replaced by anger at myself for being so blind, and anger at her piece of shit father. At my mother for not telling me, at Elise for not telling me.

That’s exactly why I find myself pulling into my mother’s driveway, knowing the two of them are spending the day together. I slam shut the door of my truck and take wide steps to the porch before pointing an accusing finger at them as they sip coffee in their porch chairs. “Did you know?”

My mom looks appalled by my sudden appearance and hostility, but I forge on anyway. Too angry to see anything other than two women who could have changed the way this went. If Elise knows, my mother knows too. “Honey, what are you-”

Elise places a hand on hers before shaking her head. “Ana.” She stands not even close to meeting my height but somehow managing to look down her nose at me. “Is this about Blake?”

“You know exactly what it’s about.”

“It wasn’t my story to tell, Wesley.”

“The hell it wasn’t. That fucking bastard should be in jail!” I yell, and if I wasn’t so blinded by rage, I’d be horrified. I’ve never raised my voice at any woman in my life. “Where is he now?” I ask.

They share a wary glance. Elise is the one who pipes up first, though. “He was released from prison a few weeks ago. But he’s not even in the same state. He’s on house arrest, Wesley.”

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