Page 43 of Made of Steel (Made of Steel 1)

"Can I see it?"

Four questions. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Please, Sadie."

Would he really let this go? Would we be able to move past this? I slowly pulled my hoodie off and pushed my hair over my shoulders. There was no hiding now. He had already seen it. He already knew.

He pressed his lips together as he shook his head. "Sadie." His voice sounded tight.

Every day it got better. Every day it faded. I needed the memory to disappear with the bruises. I couldn't talk about it anymore. "I'm okay."

"Someone tried to kill you."

"But they didn't."

"I know you don't want to talk to me, but I want to understand. I want to help."

"You are helping. This is helping me." I gestured back and forth between us. "It's been a long time since I've been this happy." I pushed my hair back in front of my neck. "But I get it. If this is too much..."

"Sadie, I meant what I said last night. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't want you to feel obligated to stay with me. Trust me, I don't need anyone's pity. I've gotten plenty of that already."

"This doesn't change how I feel about you."

If you knew everything it would.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket. He ignored it and grabbed my hand. "Sadie, I really like you. I felt sick to my stomach all day yesterday because I thought you were mad at me. You know that I care about you. I'm sorry if I'm not reacting the way you want me to react. But of course I'm upset. How could I not be when you tell me something like that?"

"I just want to forget it ever happened. I don't want to talk about it ever again. Please don't tell anyone about this."

His lips parted like he was about to say something, but they immediately closed again. "If that's what you want."

I pulled my hoodie back on. "That's what I want."

We were both silent for a moment. He climbed off my bed and pulled his shirt back on. I watched him slowly button it up.

"Does it hurt?" he asked it without looking at me. He was staring down at the ground.

Yes. But the memory hurts more. "Barely. You're going to be late for your next class."

"I'm sorry. I won't ask about it again."

I followed his gaze. His hands were clenched into fists. He was angry. But it wasn't directed at me. He was angry for me. He did feel my pain. No one had ever felt my pain before.

"Can you walk me home after work again?"

He lifted his head and smiled.

I was worried I'd never see that smile again.

"Of course. Nine o'clock again?"

I nodded.

"I should get going." He stepped forward and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

It didn't feel intimate. It felt protective. And I was worried everything had just changed. My past and present were colliding, and I didn't know how to make it stop.

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