Like Gravity(75)

“It doesn’t,” I snapped.

“Is this about your father?” Finn asked quietly.

“No!” I practically yelled in his face.

Defensive much? Way to play it cool, Brooklyn.

Finn looked at me skeptically.

“Fine. Maybe it’s a little bit about him,” I sheepishly admitted. I squeezed my eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I’m already so emotional from earlier, and then I walked in here and it was just…not what I was expecting, I guess. I felt like I was back at my Dad’s house, and that place…” I took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s the last place I ever want to be when I’m feeling vulnerable.”

“That’s understandable,” Finn said, leaning in to brush a soft kiss across my lips. “But don’t take it out on Henry.”

“Henry?”

“My couch,” Finn said, lovingly petting the leather next to my thigh.

“You named your couch?” I snorted. “That’s sad.”

“Don’t disrespect Henry like that,” Finn glared at me with mock-indignation.

“You are way too attached to an inanimate object,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Just wait till you meet Betty,” Finn said, pulling me to my feet.

I raised one eyebrow in question.

“My bed,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows at me in return.

“You wish!” I smacked him playfully on the arm. “As if I’d get into bed with some weirdo who names his furniture.”

“You don’t like my jokes, you don’t like my condo…Is there anything you do like about me?” he said, laughing.

“Nope!” I giggled.

With a fake-angry growl, Finn lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bathroom, careful not to put pressure on any of my injuries. It felt blessedly normal to simply laugh after a night like tonight. For that brief moment in time, I was free, buoyant with laughter and able to forget the fear and uncertainty. It was good to know I even still possessed the ability to laugh, after what had happened.

Our playful mood again turned somber once Finn set me down, the bathroom tiles cool beneath my bare feet. I’d abandoned Finn’s grey t-shirt along with my stilettos earlier in his truck and I never wanted to look at the damn shoes again, if I could help it. I couldn’t decide if they’d been my salvation or my downfall in the alley, and thinking about it too much made my head spin.

I barely had time to take in the beautiful bathroom, with its recessed cabinetry, pedestal sink, and sunken tub, because my eyes glided over the mirror and caught on the image of the tattered, war-worn girl reflected back at me.

The Dress was ruined – stripped of its intricate beading, the once-flowing skirt now a shredded rag, the bodice torn and dirty. Angry purple bruises already darkened the skin of my bare shoulders, where my attacker’s hands had gripped so tightly. The skin of my palms, elbows, knees, and thighs had been rubbed raw, leaving throbbing, gaping red wounds behind.

But it was my eyes that fixated me the most. They looked huge, far too large for my face. Owl-like emerald orbs, glassy with shock, fear, and, worst of all, recognition.

Because I knew this girl in the mirror – this broken-down shadow, full of terror and uncertainty. I’d been her once before, seen this look gazing back at me from her deep green eyes. Years may have gone by, but I’d know her in a heartbeat, no matter how much time passed.

Scared. Traumatized. Alone.

There was one crucial difference, now, though.

This time, there was a boy reflected in the mirror too, standing behind the girl with his hands wrapped lightly around her waist. His steadfast blue gaze held trust, protection, and something that looked a lot like love.

I wasn’t alone anymore. Not this time.

Leaning back into Finn’s chest, I closed my eyes and felt the tears finally gather in my eyes. I couldn’t stop them; I didn’t even try. I just let Finn hold me as I wept for the horrible thing that had happened to me, and for all the other even more terrible things that so easily could have.

When the tears slowed, I opened my eyes and once again met the gaze of the girl in the mirror. Now, her face was splotchy, her makeup was running down her face in black smears, and her eyes were red-rimmed – but at least most of that haunted look had faded from her expression.

“What are you thinking about?” Finn asked gently, his gaze finding mine as I stared at our entwined reflection.

“How much I hate pretty criers. Seriously, those girls just release one glistening tear without ever smudging their mascara or getting all red-faced? Utter bullshit,” I forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“Come on,” Finn said, rolling his eyes as he guided me toward his walk-in shower. It was large enough for at least four people, enclosed by a wall of opaque glass blocks. After turning on the water, Finn returned to me and carefully unzipped The Dress. Letting it fall to my feet, he knelt down in front of me and I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself as I stepped out of the pooled fabric. Finn tossed it into a nearby trashcan without a second glance.

Bye, bye, pretty dress.

Still kneeling at my feet, Finn pressed a soft, warm kiss to my belly button. His hands moved lightly over my ravaged skin as they tugged down my underwear and unclasped my bra, leaving me naked before him. I felt ugly, exposed – bruised, broken, and laid bare in a way I’d never been.