Page 36 of Past

"Let me wash you," I say as Elliot stands under the shower, staring into my eyes. He looks amazing with water dripping down the front of his hard chest toward that amazing six-pack he has.

"Sure," he says, clearly not sure. I grab the shower gel, pouring some on my hands before running them over his chest, and I make my way around to his front. I stop on his back as he goes tense when I feel the countless scars under the tattoo.

"I love this tattoo," I whisper, wishing I could have taken the pain away from his scars.I quietly run my fingers over each one, wanting to know how many he has. There are twenty altogether. So many, so much pain.

"What caused these?" I ask while I wash his back and try to admire the huge, angel wings. They are so detailed, that you can't see the scars in the wings.The person who tattooed this must have been amazing at their job.

"My father; he wasn't a good man, Allie. The scars are my past," he says with a slight warning in his tone, but I don’t think he means it. I move around his body to look up into his eyes. So much pain can be seen in them, and it makes my heart clench with a need to fix it.

"I'm sorry," I say before kissing his chest and then running my soapy hands over him.

"Can I wash your hair?" he asks in a quiet voice. One look in his eyes shows how much he is trying not to run from me. I think he ran from everyone else. I know I’m the first one he’s let close to him, other than his brothers.

"Yes," I say before simply turning around for him.

Elliot makes me moan as he pays attention to my hair, and the smell of mint fills the shower as he uses his shampoo on me. I stop when I hear him finish, and I turn to see him clean his own hair then rinse it under the shower, making me feel very vulnerable sharing a sweet moment like this with him. Elliot kisses me gently, seeming to feel the same way before turning off the shower and getting out. He hands me a big towel and then wraps one around his waist before taking my hand and sitting me on the closed toilet.

"Will you let me brush your hair?" he asks, and I nod at him. Elliot spends time blow drying my hair before surprising me by doing a long French plait.

"Where did you learn to do this?"I ask.

"One of my dad’s long-term girlfriends liked to have her hair done. Dad told us we had to do whatever she wanted, but luckily for me and Sebastian, it was just hair styles. She liked Luke to cook for her, she wasn’t like a mother to us," he says in an even voice, not a hint of emotion in it.

"What about Harley?"

"Harley was sixteen when Dad made him do whatever his girlfriends wanted. I think that's why Harley doesn't date, he doesn't like women. I was made to help some of his friends’ wives when I turned fifteen. I hated it," he says emotionlessly, and I feel sick with the knowledge of what he is telling me.

"That's terrible," I whisper.

"Our past is bad, but it's the past. I've moved past it now. I hope Harley will one day, he had to deal with it all a lot longer than I did," Elliot says, kneeling in front of me and wiping away my tears. “Don’t cry for me.”

“It’s why you were so angry all the time; I always thought you just were like that.”

“Yes, I was angry with the world. I was a kid, and I didn’t cope with it well. I’m not a kid now, Allie, and I have you. I’m happier than I’ve ever been because of you. So don’t cry for me, I finally have a future, and it’s you I have to thank,” he says and kisses my forehead.

"Let's get dressed. I will go to Izzy’s room and ask for some clothes for you, unless you want to wear the dress from last night."He chuckles with a mischievous grin.

"I don't think I can, considering you ripped it off me last night after the wedding." I laugh while Elliot looks proud.

"You sure letting everyone know about us is a safe idea?" I ask.

"Angel, if they didn't hear you last night, they sure did this morning."He smirks when I shake my head.

I follow Elliot into his room and sit on his large bed, watching him as he puts on jeans and a blue shirt.I glance around the room; it’s neat and mainly blue in colour. There’s a pile of papers on a desk in the corner with his laptop. There is a picture of him with all his brothers on the windowsill, but nothing else.

"Back in a sec," he says, shutting the door behind him. I lie back on the bed, feeling around on the bedside table for my phone before remembering I put it in the drawer last night.I open the drawer and pull my phone out when I see a picture underneath it. It’s one taken of me and Elliot just before prom. I remember how Harley made us take a picture, and Elliot surprised me by pulling me into his arms. This picture is of me looking up at him; even then, my feelings were all over my face. I smile thinking of how he kept this picture of us. My smile fades when I remember he still chased after Lily after this picture and danced with her all night.

Would he choose her over me again?He says he has always wanted me, but he was with her so long. I shake my head. I’m being stupid. If Elliot wanted Lily, he could have had her that night at Blake's party. He chose me then. I check the time, seeing I have three hours until my dance class. My phone beeps with a message, and I quickly put the picture back.

Tristan: you okay?

I smile at him checking up on me. He has been watching me since the restaurant, and I like that we don't have any secrets now. I've missed being close to my brother like we were growing up. We didn’t have a choice when Mum was AWOL, and Dad was working. Dad’s working now has a different meaning; I now dread knowing what kind of work he is doing. He isn't a car dealer like he told me; that is for damn sure.

"Hey, wake up, twin! I'm off on my honeymoon, and I wanted to thank you for that speech, it was–" Sebastian cuts off as he sees me on Elliot's bed in just a towel. Maisy comes in behind Sebastian with a shocked face.

"Don't you knock?" I shout as I pull the bedding around me. Sebastian turns around and is jumping up and down, his fist pumping the air.

"Why are you so happy?" I ask with a frown, while Maisy is laughing so loud, she is holding herself up by the door.

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