Page 46 of Splintered Memories
I stared at his shoulder. The dark-gray fabric of his long-sleeved shirt covered it. If I was going to see any injury, I’d have to either cut his shirt or have him take it off.
My fingers drifted toward the hem of it near his waist. “Can you take this off?” I gave it a little tug. “So I can see your shoulder?”
He gave me a slow blink before he nodded, but he didn’t move to take it off.
I frowned, my eyes bouncing to his shoulder and then back to his face. “Can I help you take it off?”
Again, he only nodded.
Right. Okay. My heart galloped, blood rushing through me as I inhaled a steady breath and inched up the hem of his shirt. He only watched me, eyes dark and hooded, but tinged with pain.
My skin heated as I revealed the defined, sculpted muscles of his abdomen. They were so very tight, straining beneath his smooth, tan skin. I tried to keep my mind off how the sight of his body affected me as I pulled the shirt up to his chiseled pectorals. This man was hurting; it wasn’t a time to ogle him.
“Slip your right arm out,” I instructed.
He did so. Without making him lift his left arm at all, I pulled his shirt over his head. Carefully, I eased the shirt down his collarbone and off his left shoulder.
My breath caught. It felt as if my heart had lodged itself between my ribs as I took in that shoulder. Everything started to make sense, careening into place.
August had been a marine. He never talked about his time in the military or the things he had done, but he had come home because he’d been injured.
My stomach cramped at the sight of the gnarled knot of scar tissue peppering his entire shoulder from below the collarbone to halfway down his upper arm. They were all different shapes and sizes, as ifsomeone had taken multiple tools and shoved them through his flesh, stabbing and slashing. Some were pink and raised, while others were flat and concave.
Dizziness swirled around me as I realized I wasn’t breathing. I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, trying to calm myself in the wake of those scars, the damage that had been done to him. It had to have been excruciating. There were five, fresh red marks right where his fingers had dug into it.
I forced my eyes back to his.
His forehead puckered, his mouth in a tight wince as he blinked at me. As if he were waiting for bad news.
“You’re okay, August.” I forced my voice to stay steady. Because even though the scars were brutal, they were nothing but that…scars. I saw no fresh injury. I didn’t know whether scars could cause the type of pain that was stark on August’s face, but I didn’t think he was in any danger. Not anymore.
“Is there blood?” he muttered with a grimace, still not looking at it. His eyes remained on me.
My heart sank. I shook my head. “No.”
That seemed to confuse him, because the line between his brows deepened.
My teeth sank into my bottom lip. This was a little different than a panic attack. I wondered, with a nauseating twist in my gut, whether this was what PTSD looked like for August. Whatever had happened to him, it had been traumatic.
I made a decision then. I wasn’t sure it was the right thing, but it was the only thing I knew how to do. He needed to be grounded.
My hand found his, and I squeezed. “What do you feel?” I asked him again.
He wasn’t as quick to answer this time. But again, he said, “It hurts.”
I wrapped both of my hands around his, pulling it against my chest. I wanted him to feel the warmth of my skin. His hand was so cold.
“What about now?” I placed his palm against the bare skin peeking out above the neckline of my shirt. “Can you feel my heartbeat?”
His eyelids fluttered, his eyes clearing a bit as he glanced down at his hand. Mine pressed hard on top of his, willing him to focus on the rushing pulse pounding through me.
“It’s so fast,” he whispered, and I smiled despite everything.
“Good,” I breathed, nodding. “It is. Now, what do you see?”
His eyes flicked back up to mine. “Green,” he said without hesitation.
I nodded. “Yes, good. My eyes are green.” Already his muscles were starting to ease. “What do you smell?” Grounded. He needed to be grounded here in this moment and not whatever nightmare memory was threatening to overtake him.
