Page 66 of In Hiding

Deep tremors shook her hands as she took the towel. He held onto the other end, tugging against her to bring her focus to him. “It’s not what you think. I promise I’ll explain everything.”

“You promised no more lies, too.”

He pressed his lips together before saying, “I never lied after I made that promise to you. Please, dry off. You’re scaring me.”

Reluctantly, he left her. Half of him expected her to run the minute he was out of the room, but he had to take that chance. If she was there when he returned, maybe he stood a chance of clearing up this mess.

In his room, he stripped off his wet clothing and dabbed at his damp skin with a towel. Dry enough, he pulled on fresh jeans and a thick long-sleeved shirt. Shoving his feet into clean socks, he ran the towel through his hair though he wasn’t nearly as soaked as she’d been.

He turned to go when he saw the basket of recently laundered items. The care with which she’d folded his clothes reached deep into his soul and squeezed, strengthening his resolve to clear up this misunderstanding. The hurt in her eyes suggested he was going to have to work fucking hard to win her trust.

Again.

Moving to the doorway, he peeked around the doorjamb to see if she was ready but the sight that confronted him took his breath away.

Standing in her underwear, the real impact of Mitchell’s attack became apparent. Scars crisscrossed her abdomen. The red lines stood stark against her pale skin. He counted no less than twelve individual knife wounds and four slashes that ran in diagonal lines across her stomach.

He’d read the report. He’d known how brutal the assault was but seeing it for himself hammered home the nightmare she’d survived. Pride welled inside his chest at her remarkable strength and courage, but it was soon displaced by a rage he didn’t think he could control.

How could someone do that?

Mitchell had once loved her enough to marry her. How had it come to that?

He watched her hands shake as she tried unsuccessfully to release the clasp on her bra and he realized he’d broken his word to give her privacy. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her wounds and he couldn’t fathom what had gone through her mind as the man she’d vowed to love and cherish drove a knife into her repeatedly.

Turn away.

Though he knew he should, he couldn’t. She lifted her head and caught him. Jake felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment and apologized. “Let me help you, Sarah.”

She frowned. Seeing her non-acceptance, he began to turn away.

“Okay.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

Moving slowly, he crossed the living room and neared her. “What do you need?”

“Unclip me, please.”

He stepped behind her and found more scars. Jake closed his eyes, not knowing how she lived through it. He took hold of her bra, released the hooks, and slipped the straps off her slender shoulders. Her entire body shuddered as he lifted the towel and gently rubbed her hair. From there, he dried her back and her arms.

“Your underwear too,” he whispered.

Gooseflesh spread across her delicate skin. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, he turned her and drew the edges of it together, hiding her from him. He knelt and stared up at her.

“Lean on me.”

Her bloodshot eyes met his.

Summoning all the chivalry he owned, which until now hadn’t been a lot, he reached under the blanket and hooked his fingers into her knickers. Her eyes widened and he paused, waiting for permission. With a nod, she planted a hand on his shoulder and allowed him to remove the garment.

As his gaze slid down her legs, his focus landed on the scar left behind by the branch that had impaled her. Jake touched a fingertip to the gnarly looking circle. Her battered body pulled from him a sense of protectiveness that was becoming familiar.

“Just another to add to the rest,” she whispered.

“A testament to your strength.”

“Doubtful.”

He glanced upward to see something flash through her eyes though it disappeared so fast he couldn’t be sure of its true nature.

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