Page 55 of Unfulfilled Promises
Exhaustion was overpowering me, so when we walked by the kitchen, I stopped to grab something to eat. I needed my strength, as Doc had warned me the blood loss was going to take a few days to get over. I grabbed a banana and a bag of almondsfrom the cabinet before starting to shuffle down the hallway toward my bedroom.
Seth stayed beside me, just like he promised, and when we got to my room, I didn’t hesitate to invite him inside. “Come on in. I need to change clothes and wash up a little. I can shower later.”
“Take the time to get the dried blood off you and you’ll be surprised how much better you’ll feel,” he suggested.
“I don’t know if I have the energy to take a shower,” I remarked, and he looked down at me.
“I would offer to help, but . . .”
“Another time, perhaps.”
“Whenever,” he said, then asked, “What do you need from me?”
I sat on the bed and peeled the banana before answering. “Can you grab a washrag from the bathroom and wet it for me? I’ll get some fresh clothes and then we can go.”
He returned as I finished the banana, and with gentle swipes, he cleaned most of the remnants of blood from my arms and hands. Then he turned his focus on the bruise on my head, and with a few passes, he got the little bit of blood removed.
“How did you meet Dick Pickens?” Seth asked as he helped me stand.
I walked to my closet and opened it as I responded. “He showed up at the safe house Sergey and I were in about three or four months after I was taken. At first, I thought he was another FBI agent, but when he joined Sergey and me for our after-dinner talk one evening, I knew something was off about him.”
“Did you get a sense of how long they’d known each other?”
“It seemed like years from the familiarity between them, but neither ever said.” I pulled out a pair of black cargo pants and one of my dark T-shirts before glancing at Seth. “I need help, but . . .”
“How about you keep on what’s under your clothes and I’ll help with my eyes averted as much as possible.”
“It’s not you seeing me without clothes. It’s . . . I’m really dizzy and I’m afraid I’ll fall over.”
“Have a seat,” he suggested, and I did as he asked.
He removed my shoes then pointed to my pants. I unbuttoned and lowered the zipper before lifting my butt and slipping them down to my thighs. He kept his eyes on me as much as he could, and a quick glance was all he did as he pulled my blood-stained pants down and pulled my cargo pants up. I lifted again and then buttoned the three buttons on the front.
My shirt was even easier to change. “Lift your arms, but be careful with the injured one.”
I did as he said, and he tugged my destroyed blouse off, making sure my injury was never touched. After pulling my clean shirt on, he squatted in front of me and smiled. I looked at him and asked, “What?”
“I’m in awe of you, Regan. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and lowered my gaze as I muttered, “I’m nothing special.”
I felt his finger under my chin, and as I brought my eyes to his, I saw passion ignite in his eyes as he said, “You, Regan Weston, are the single most precious person in this entire family, and if I have to spend every day of the rest of my life showing you exactly how special you are, then that’s my new mission. One I hope to have for life.”
The feeling of butterflies taking off inside me was a foreign sensation but one I’d always hoped to experience again. I had a few boyfriends between foster care and my kidnapping, but I’d feared that part of me was gone and I would never want someone to touch me again. With Seth, I started to wonderwhenhe was going to touch me, to kiss me, and I wanted him to love me.
His phone dinged in his pocket, and when he glanced at the screen, he remarked, “We need to get moving. Hannah wants to catch Waylon at home since it’s Sunday.”
He helped me stand, and I walked to the small box on my dresser and opened it to reveal my gun. Securing it in the back of my pants, I faced Seth, and he took my hand and kept us connected as we walked out of my room and through the house. Before we got to the front door, I slowed, and he gave me a concerned look. “I’m . . . I’m . . .”
“Whatever it is, I already told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
Shaking my head, I looked up at him and asked, “What if I’m wrong about everything? What . . . what if Sergey really was using me as a pet?”
“Then we know and we can move forward, but something tells me you were more than a pet to him.”
We started walking again as I admitted, “He was a horrible man but . . .”
“He kept his promise to keep you safe, and it’s hard to reconcile the good parts of him with the bad,” Seth reasoned, and I gave him a look that showed my shock.
