Page 47 of Claimed By the Enemy
I apply butterfly bandages to the worst of the cuts, then hand him an ice pack for his jaw. “Hold this.”
He takes it without argument, which again tells me more than he probably wants to reveal.
I reach for the ibuprofen from the supplies Patrice brought and shake out two pills. “Take these with some water. They’ll help with the pain and swelling.”
Dom swallows the pills obediently, then presses the ice pack back against his jaw.
“Lie down,” I tell him. “You need to rest.”
“Sophie-”
“Dom.” I put my hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath my palm. “Please. Just rest.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but exhaustion is winning the battle. I take the ice pack from him and set it on the nightstand as he stretches out on the bed, his head sinking into the pillows like he can’t hold it up anymore.
“Stay,” he says quietly as I start to pull away.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
And I’m not. I settle into the armchair beside his bed, watching as his breathing gradually evens out and his face relaxes into sleep. Even unconscious, he looks troubled. Like whatever happened to him today is playing out behind his closed eyelids.
***
Dom wakes up disoriented, blinking slowly in the darkness. It takes him a moment to focus on me, still curled up in the chair beside his bed.
“What time is it?” His voice is rough with sleep.
“A little after two.” I lean forward, studying his face in the dim light filtering through the curtains. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck.” He tries to sit up, wincing. “Why are you still here?”
“Someone had to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep.”
“I’m not going to die from a few bruises, Sophie.”
“A few bruises?” I stand up, anger flaring hot in my chest. “Dom, you came home covered in blood. You looked like you’d been through a war zone.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Stop.” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “Stop lying to me. Stop pretending this isn’t serious.”
Dom swings his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up fully. “Sophie-”
“No. I’m done with the evasions and the half-truths and the ‘it’s nothing’bullshit.” I’m pacing now, all the fear and frustration from the day pouring out. “You were attacked. Violently. And instead of calling the police or going to a hospital, you come home bleeding and refuse to explain what happened.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated with you! The marriage is complicated. Your feelings are complicated. Apparently, staying alive is complicated, too.”
“Sophie, please—”
“I sat here for four hours watching you sleep, terrified that you were going to stop breathing. Four hours wondering if whoever did this to you was going to come here next. And you won’t even tell me why.”
Dom is quiet for a long moment, just looking at me in the darkness. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“The threatening letters haven’t stopped.”
My blood goes cold. “And you didn’t think to mention this to me?”
