Page 63 of These Rough Waters

That was okay, right? Afterall, I was telling myself this thing between us was just a blip, the effect of our mutual attraction to each other. People just had sex without it going anywhere all the time, that’s all this was. It’s not that deep.

But it doesn’t stop the churning in the pit of my stomach at the idea that he may stand me up.

I’d cooked an extra plate of food for him, there was a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge, and I was starting to feel like an idiot.

If it wasn’t that deep, why am I making such an effort?

With a groan I fling my arm over my eyes as if to stifle the cringe at myself. It had been a long time since I was even allowed around other men and sincehewas the last and only person, I’ve been with I guess I was out of my comfort zone and league on what to do with a man and what was normal behavior.

When I ran from my ex, Harper’s father, I had told myself I’d rather be unattached for the rest of my life than have to deal with another asshole but here I am, obsessing over the guy I’ve slept with once and whether or not he will keep his word.

I shift my arm and trace the scar in my brow, a permanent reminder of what I had escaped. Sure I had other scars caused by him, small, barely noticeable scars but it was this one that reminded me every day of what I went through.

But it was me he beat on, not Harper and I would have taken it every second, minute and day if it meant she remained safe.

And when he almost killed me, I realized that if he had succeeded he would no longer be distracted by me and would focus on his daughter.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Running and getting on that boat was the bravest thing I’ve ever done but now that weeks have past and I feel like I’m swimming in the same rough waters that surround this tiny island, I don’t feel very brave.

I suppose I haven’t really allowed myself to think about it, haven’t allowed the trauma to the surface but I’m scared that if I do, if I allow myself to process all the years where I let a man control, hurt and abuse me, I’ll become a shell.

I’ve kept going, kept breathing for my daughter, for her safety. I realize now that I was never living, purely going through the motions of it and for the first few weeks I can see I still practiced those same routines, still went through the motions of a woman just trying to survive.

I guess the hike was my first real step at doing anything other than the normal and yeah it was reckless, and I should never have done it, but I did it for me.

And that craving to scream from the very peak still sat potent and demanding in my chest. I had gotten us out, had gotten us safe.

We were safe.

A sigh leaves me as a smile touches my lips.

The door opens a second later, letting in a cold gust of wind that flickers the flames I had burning in the hearth. Torin stands for a minute in the doorway, staring, before he promptly closes the door and crosses the room in sure long strides.

I’m momentarily stunned at the sheer force the man oozes but then he grips my face in his big, rough hands and plants his mouth on mine, punching his tongue between my lips in a kiss that leaves no room for any thoughts other than him. He lowers himself until he has me spread out on the couch, pressing his weight into me and he just kisses me, passionately, possessively, worshipping my mouth the same way he did my body.

And then he breaks the connection and his glacial eyes stare down at my face, his thumb making small little circles on my cheek, “I’ve wanted to do that since you left this morning.” He rasps.

“Hi,” I stutter, dazed.

“Hello, little doe,” he grins.

Was this even the same man I met mere weeks ago? The grumpy fisherman with a perpetual scowl and frosty attitude seemed to have disappeared and in his place was this insatiable, dominant man that seemed to look at me like I hung the moon and stars.

“I made you food.” I whisper, unsure what to do now that he was here, and I’d convinced myself he wasn’t coming.

“Did you, little doe?” he kisses the corner of my mouth, “Is Harper in bed?”

“She is. Where’s Rett?”

“Entertaining himself at the diner.” He says.

“He won’t come looking for you?”

“Not if he knows what’s good for him.” He strokes the side of my face, “What were you smiling about?” He asks.

I shake my head, “It doesn’t matter.”

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