Page 99 of Reckless Woman
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Later that night,I don’t walk past her room like I always do. Instead, I pause outside the door, making decisions in my head that I know I’m going to regret.
She’s fast asleep and breathing deeply—a slender blade beneath a white sheet, with her long blonde hair spilling all around her. She’s bathed today. I can smell citrus and lavender in the air, and my cock’s pretty happy about it, too. There’s a dress lying discarded at the foot of her bed, which I find even more encouraging.
Are you coming back to life, myLuna?
Are all your pretty pieces mending?
I place the rock on her nightstand, resisting the compulsion to rest my mouth against her forehead. I want to rouse her, to love her, to wrap my arms around her. There’s a possessive growl sitting at the back of my throat, urging me to take what’s mine, but I know I can’t force this.
Even so, I can’t bring myself to spend another damn night in a cold, empty bed without her, so I head for the easy chair in the corner.
I’ll be gone before she wakes.
She’ll never know I was here.
Before I can think of a third justification, I’m fast asleep myself.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Anna
Iwake to the heavy creak of his boot on the floorboards.
This is the seventh night he’s crept into my room after midnight, only to disappear again before six a.m., leaving me with ghosts and memories.
I pretend to be asleep. I slow my breathing and I stay extra still as he places another painted rock on my nightstand. They’re different from the ones the little boy brings me. His are always the same. I’ll have seven, counting this one, and they'll all be as bright and whole as the last.
That’s not me, though. That’ll never be me again, because I’m busted and incomplete and I truly am broken now. And I knowhe never fucks broken.
A single tear escapes my eye as he settles into the chair with a deep groan. I never tell him to leave…I think I want him here. I want to fall asleep with his rich scent filling the air between us, because underneath all the anger and the hurt and confusion, I miss him.
I miss him.
Sometimes so much that every breath I take is like a razor blade digging deeper into my chest.
I don’t realize I’m moving until I hit the edge of the mattress, leaving a gaping space and an invitation behind me.
What follows is a long moment when I forget to breathe so he knows I’m awake. There’s more creaking of floorboards. I hear the soft clink of his gun hitting the nightstand and then the mattress is caving in beside me.
He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t dare bridge that gap yet. Instead, a single spider-web thread forms between us—so fine and fragile it could snap at any moment.
I fall asleep to an image of that thread wrapped tightly around my finger.
When I wake to bright sunshine again, he and the thread are gone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Anna
“Ithink I know who’s been leaving me the rocks on my windowsill.”
“Oh?” Gabriela tugs me to a halt and cocks her head with interest.
These walks before dinner have become the highlight of my day. I’ve started gardening with some of the girls during the afternoon, too. None of the heavy stuff, it’s still only two months since the operation, but I’m deriving a weird satisfaction from yanking up weeds. In a way, it’s contributing to my Spring. I’m not a muddy, ruined battlefield in Normandy anymore. The war is over, Winter is passing, but I’m not quite ready to start growing again, yet.
“There’s this little boy—”