Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(85)

Gavin stretches his legs out with a sigh and looks my way. “How you doing, sunshine?” His voice is deep and throaty, as though he just woke up, even though we’ve been awake for a couple hours. Last night was brutal.

I smile and nod, loving the new nickname he has for me. The smiles still feel foreign, but I’m getting used to it. The words though, they still elude me.

Gavin smiles back as his lashes rise and fall slowly, his green eyes so vibrant in the newborn light. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and gently pulls me in closer, nestling my head into his neck. It’s a tender move, a caring move.

For a man who claimed he didn’t know how to be gentle, he’s taken to it quite well. Perhaps too well. At first, he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed with me. He insisted on sleeping on the cot. Said it was too soon. And I thought perhaps he was right. I even had trouble sleeping in the bed myself, and a few times Gavin woke up to find me curled up in a dark corner of the closet. Eventually though, I got to staying in my bed, and Gavin in the cot, but then the nightmares would come and he would find himself by my side, holding me, stroking my hair, whispering everything would be alright, until we eventually fell asleep together. So now, when it’s bedtime, he slides in next to me, but keeps a pillow between us. I know what he’s protecting me from. I’ve seen the strain against his boxer briefs, but he keeps it hidden from me as much as possible. And I’m okay with that. I’m certainly not ready for that, mentally or physically. My body is still healing. Just dressing and walking is an effort sometimes, but it’s getting better. Instead, for now, we just hang out, watch movies, read books, visit the horses. We simply exist, together. A sort of intimate getting to know each other, brought on by events too strange and disturbing to make sense of.

In a way, it feels like there’s a world out there we’ve slipped away from. I know his agent’s called a few times, but he ignores the calls. But it can’t go on forever. What happens when we have to leave this place, leave this little sanctuary and head back into reality. He won’t just be mine anymore, if that’s what I can even call him now, he’ll be Gavin West, the movie star again. And technically, I’m married, and for the most part, homeless.

We haven’t really talked much about the future. It’s almost as if we’re both still just trying to find our bearings after that night. Still trying to come to terms with the situation we find ourselves in now. But even so, I haven’t been able to forget what he said to me all those months ago. A fling. That’s all it’ll be. That’s all I have room for.

I know it’s become more than that. Much more. But part of me wonders if it weren’t for all the craziness that happened, would he still have stuck around. Or does he feel himself bound by some sense of duty, after what happened, and perhaps a need to protect me the way he ended up protecting his mom.

The thought makes me shiver, causing him to lift my chin so he can see my eyes. “You cold?”

I shake my head and watch him while he studies me, searching for whatever memories might be lurking in my mind. There are such sweet intentions behind his gaze, but there’s no missing the tension, the lines of restraint that have been etched into his face these past couple weeks. It’s not sexual though. It’s deadly. It’s the elephant in the room we both ignore.

He must sense my thoughts, as he lets my chin go and places a soft kiss on my forehead. It’s a move to distract, to set me off course. He’s been unnervingly distant on the topic of Shayne. Detective Miller, who was here just a couple days ago, said there’s still been no sign of him. But I know Shayne won’t go far. He’ll come for me. He’ll find me. I know he will. It’s just a matter of time.

And in some ways, I think Gavin’s been hoping he’ll show. Hoping he can take that final swing at him and send him to his grave. He’s not said as much, but he doesn’t have to. It’s there, in the way his gaze turns distant, the way he wails on the punching bag in the exercise room, the way his jaw clenches when he sees the marks on my body. They’re healing, but they’re a reminder…a reminder of what I went through. And in many ways, Gavin feels responsible.

It’s strange, really. The timing of it all. The way Gavin came for me when he did. I wasn’t going to survive that night. The beast was lost. So lost. I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing now. I can’t help but wonder how he is. I still have that image in my head, of him staggering, and his voice too, calling for me, that I hear constantly. But they’re things I try not to think about, because the feelings that come with them are too confusing. Those dark, strange feelings that live inside me, gnawing away at me. Part of me knows I shouldn’t feel this way, after all he’s done to me. But I can’t help it. I’m bound to him now. And I can’t help but feel like I left him in hell. A hell that was created by a sick father and a neglectful mother. And me. The one who broke her word. The one who broke his heart.

And then there’s Red, who’s constantly in my mind. The one who gave his life for me. The one who turned on his best friend, so I could be free. Gavin said he loved me. Gavin said he’d always loved me.

The pit in my stomach grows and the tears well, blurring the sunrise. So much violence. So much loss. It’s so tempting to let the dark swallow me up, to simply give in and let the anger, and rage, and pain consume me. And sometimes it does. Sometimes I simply crumble and cry, but then strong arms wrap around me, followed by whispered words in a deep, familiar voice that always seem to cut through the madness. They soothe, they settle, they bring me back and remind me there is still good in this world. I just have to fight for it. I have to fight for it like my life depends on it. Which in many ways, it does.