Page 16 of Bruise Me Tenderly
I press my lips into a thin line so I don’t laugh. “That’s one of the most precious things I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
We ride in comfortable silence to his apartment complex that lasts through the elevator ride. It’s taking a lot of my willpower not to pin him against the wall and kiss the fuck out of him right now. But I’d promised to give him more information about the day we escaped Ian’s house. I have to talk about that first. He’s waited long enough.
I’m not nearly as nervous to talk about this part of it as I was when I told him about meeting Ian at the party. With that, I felt like he had every right to hate me, but this is just stating facts.
When we enter River’s apartment, he locks the door behind us as kicks his shoes off before reaching for his cell phone. “I’m ordering some food in. I don’t feel like cooking. You want Chinese?”
I nod. I’d honestly accept anything from him. I don’t care about what food we eat—I just want to spend time with him.
River finishes ordering the food, then moves to sit on the edge of his sectional sofa. “Can you tell me about how we got out now? Because once the food comes, I kind of just want to put it out of my mind if possible.”
“Of course.” I sit beside him, angling a little so I can see him. “You know, we don’t have to talk about it at all.”
“I want to know. I want to put that part of this all behind me too.” He pauses before adding, “If you’re okay with it. I don’t want to make you talk about something when you don’t want to.”
“No, I want to just get it out.”
To my surprise, River reaches over and takes my hand that’s resting on my knee. “Then say it. And we can put it behind us and start again.”
His calmness soothes me, making it easier to start talking.
“Remember I’d figured out how to open the window in the basement? We’d talked about it the night before—how we would run when he left for the store?”
He frowns. “Vaguely. It’s all kind of a blurry mess.”
“Well, we’d agreed to try. But when I tried to wake you after he left, you weren’t moving. Your breath was so shallow.” I close my eyes, trying to block out the panic clawing at my chest.Trying to remind myself that River’s alive and he’s safe and whole.
River squeezes my hand but doesn’t say anything.
I take a breath and open my eyes before pushing on. “I got the window open, and I pulled you out of it. Your arm got cut on one of the nails in the window frame, and there was a lot of blood.” I swallow before adding, “It wasn’t like you had much to spare after…well, after Ian was done with us.”
His fingers tighten around mine, and I stare down at our joined hands. How many times did I hold his hand in that basement? How many times was I the one to comfort him?
“Ian came back early; I guess he forgot something. I never found out. But he saw us.” Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still see that murderous look on Ian’s face when he realized we’d gotten out of the house. “I had to let go of you.”
I pause again. How is this just as hard as telling him about the party? While I don’t feel any guilt this time, the memories are just as painful as if it was happening again right now. I remember laying River down in the tall grass, watching the green turn to red from the blood on him. Knowing that if I failed in fighting Ian off, River was going to die. I’d been so scared. So certain I would fuck up and we would never make it home.
“It’s okay,” River says softly, pulling me back to the present. “You don’t have to say anymore.”
I shake my head. River deserves to hear this. “Ian took a swing at me, and I shoved him. I didn’t know there was an empty well behind him. If he hadn’t shown up and blocked my path, we probably would’ve fallen into it. I was too busy watching you that I wasn’t looking where we were going. Ian fell right down into the well. The cops said a broken neck killed him. That he didn’t suffer down there.”
That had bothered me. River and I had just survived the worst week of our lives, and Ian got off scot-free.
“That’s everything,” I say. “I got you in his truck, and I drove us to the hospital.”
River reaches out and touches my chin, turning my face so our gazes meet. “Thank you for saving me.”
“You wouldn’t have been in there in the first place if it hadn’t been for me.”
“Thank you for saving me,” he repeats firmly. “You could’ve left without me, and you didn’t.”
“I would never leave without you. Even if it hadn’t been my fault that we were there.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
He sounds so certain, just like he did when I told him the whole story a week ago in his kitchen. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to see it the same way he does.