To the Stars (Thatch #2)(53)

“You know I do,” I said in a hoarse voice. The lie came easily, thanks to the years of practice with him.

“And do you know that I love you?” he asked warily.

Something in his voice made my chest ache. Not for his love, and not for the guy I’d fallen in love with before he became my monster. But for all the lies I’d said in the past five years, for the lie I’d been living, and for the pain this man had cost me—only for him to now act like this was hard for him.

Before I could respond, fear flooded my veins when tears started quickly slipping down my cheeks. I tried to stop them, tried to gather whatever strength I could find, but there was nothing as more tears continued to fall. A sob burst from my chest, and my body slumped forward when I decided that after what had happened the day before, I didn’t have enough in me to care that he was seeing me break down. And once he’d seen the tears, there was no point in lying to him. But the tears also served as my answer, an answer Collin would have never accepted in the past, and an answer I didn’t think he was going to accept then.

I waited for my monster; I waited for the pain. My body jerked when his fingers trailed over mine and then slowly up my arms; but instead of stopping at any of the number of pressure points on my arms, Collin gently pulled me onto his lap.

“I do love you,” he whispered into my ear. “I swear to God I love you, Harlow.”

All I could manage was a nod against his chest while I internally screamed, You’re a monster! You don’t know what love is!

“What I do, I do for us; to better our relationship, to better you as a woman and my wife.”

There he was . . . my monster. Still hiding, but there in Collin’s words. Always waiting, teasing me, lurking behind the perfect mask of my seemingly perfect husband.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured before his mouth was on my skin.

It took all my strength not to recoil when his lips brushed against my neck, and then again when he tilted my head back to brush a deceptively soft kiss to the hand-shaped bruise on my throat. His lips slowly moved up my neck, but just before they reached my own, he paused. Seconds passed as his breath mixed with mine, and I slowly let my eyes open. His blue eyes were narrowed into slits, and the sight didn’t match his broken words.

“You’re shaking. You’re scared of me,” he said softly, the last statement sounding more like a question—as if he didn’t understand why or how that was a possibility.

And if he hadn’t been right, and if I hadn’t been in his arms, I might have laughed. But I was scared of him; I was terrified of the man holding me. And I’d never been more terrified than I was in that moment. He didn’t apologize to me like this, he didn’t cry, and he didn’t worry about me not loving him. No matter how much I wanted to believe that things could change, that I could have a future without living in fear of what would come next from Collin, I knew it would be stupid and dangerous to let myself believe that the past few minutes were signs of change for us. I also knew that not answering this question would be a mistake, but my throat wouldn’t work as his blue eyes lost the life behind them.

Oh God.

My head shook slowly at first, then faster. “No, no,” I swore, and ran my hands through his blond hair.

Collin swallowed roughly, then did it again, and even though there wasn’t a change in his eyes, and his hands were starting to hold me tighter and tighter, I could tell in his expression that he was trying to remain calm.

“Yesterday?” he asked, and I hesitated in my reassuring brushes through his hair and against his neck while I waited for something more.

“Yesterday?” I repeated, and let my eyebrows slowly rise to hint that I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.

“You’re scared because of yesterday.”

I forced my gaze not to leave his even though I desperately needed that small break from his intense stare to attempt to gather myself. “Of course not.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, and his tight grip eased up. With a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, he whispered, “You know I would never hurt you.”

I didn’t respond because it sounded like he was saying it more for himself than for me.

“So, what do you do on Tuesdays? What do you have to do today?” he asked, and I suppressed a relieved breath when I saw his blue eyes light up again, since I knew that for now, my monster was gone.

“Uh . . .” I blinked quickly, and tried to remember what he’d asked rather than focus on his eyes. “Tuesdays?” I asked warily. Collin never asked about my routine. “I clean; I cook dinner. There isn’t much else unless you give me your card on those mornings. I need to go to the grocery store. I was going to go yesterday after the, um . . .” I cleared my throat and this time my eyes did dart away from his for a moment. “After the appointment.”

Collin was watching me intently while I spoke, so it was impossible to miss the slight hardening of his stare when I mentioned the store. “The store? Do you need to go to the store?”

“Yes, I . . .” My voice died and stomach dropped when it hit me. There was no food in the house at all. Usually if Collin felt bad for a punishment, then he would cook, but we didn’t have food last night, and I’d slept through the afternoon and night. “L-last night. I’m so—I’m so sorry. There wasn’t any food. I didn’t—”