Page 51 of We Are Yours
For me?
Or because of me?
Her eyes shifted over to Justin, and I stressed, “He is not dead,” trying to ease the strain between us.
“Oh,” she mocked. “So that makes it okay?”
“I’m just spitting facts. You can retract your claws because he’s not dead. He just got taught a very valuable lesson. You should be thanking me instead.”
She strained.
“He fucked around and found out, but look”—I gestured to her—“it got you talking to me. Who would have thought the kitty could speak?”
She took one last look at me with so much uncertainty in her gaze, digging the dagger deeper into my chest. The fatal expression on her face vanished, replaced by nothing but remorse and shame. There were so many sides to her, so many truths to see hidden behind those captivating green eyes of hers.
Her bright red hair was a nice added touch. At that moment, she looked like a glowing goddess to me. Maybe it was the moonlight cascading on her pale skin. Or it could have been the white dress that was illuminating her features and curves against the night sky. The strap on her dress had fallen, and I stepped closer to her. Slowly, I lifted the strap back onto her shoulder.
My finger lingered for a second before I cleared my throat. “We need to go.”
She shrugged, pointing at Justin. “We’re just supposed to leave him here?”
“Hey, Justin,” I loudly announced, glancing over at him. “You want to go another round?”
He groaned, “Fuck you,” rolling on the ground.
Locking gazes with Isla again, I coaxed, “See, he’s fine.”
She shook her head in disbelief, and I placed my hands in the pockets of my jeans. There was nothing else I could do at that point but wait for her to see reason. We didn’t have the time, yet I was still giving it to her.
She backed away, ordering, “Don’t you ever do that for me again, understood?”
Tears swelled in her eyes, and I watched as she blinked them away, making me think I imagined them. My chest rose and fell as I stared into her mesmerizing yet painful gaze. Burning with so much raw emotion that it was almost hard to breathe.
Hard to move.
Captivating every last part of me.
I gazed profoundly into her eyes and exposed a huge part of me as she whispered, “But regardless, thank you. No one’s ever done that for me.”
I knew she meant it. She was willingly showing me what she had been trying to hide for so damn long. I wanted to see this side of her, and now that I finally was…
All I could feel was her agony, blocking out all of my other senses.
I couldn’t form words.
I couldn’t think.
Not when she was looking at me like that, scaring the fucking shit out of me.
She searched for something in my regard. She might have physically been there with me, but emotionally, mentally, she was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere deep inside herself. A place she visited often. And without words, she was confessing all her broken parts to me.
All her deepest wounds.
All her oldest scars.
Sharing her sadness and despair, and above all else, the damage it left behind.
Down to the bottomless depths of her soul, there was pain.
