Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers) by Susan Griscom Page B

“You can run, bitch, but you can’t hide. I’ll find you, and when I do, I’ll kill you.” I tripped over some shrubs. There was a creaking from a distance, moving closer, turning into scratching. I crawled my way through a thicket of thorny bushes as they scratched at my skin. Thorns tore at my clothes and arms; the warmth of blood seeped through my sleeve and trickled down my wrist. Then he grabbed me.
    “ Troy!” I screamed, shoving at the hands on my shoulders and pushing away from him, curling my body into the corner of the sofa. I held on to my knees, rocking. “He’s dead, he has to be dead, please tell me he’s dead.”
    “ Shhh, you were dreaming.” Jackson’s voice sounded soothing, but as he reached for me, I curled further into myself. He stopped, held out his hand. “It’s okay, he’s not here. He can’t hurt you now.”
    “ No, you don’t understand.”
    “ What, Lena? What don’t I understand? Tell me. I’ll help you. Please trust me. I promise you can trust me.”
    I s tared at his outstretched hand but didn’t take it. I considered my dream a premonition. If I didn’t kill Troy … “He’ll kill me,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear but not sure I wanted him to.
    Jackson sat down beside me, and I rolled my knees up against my stomach. I hugged my arms around them, not ready to be close to anyone. Would I ever be?
    We sat in silence for a moment . His fingers brushed against my arm and then he moved closer. I couldn’t move. I was afraid to even breathe, and he probably sensed that since he didn’t move either. Then a minute later, his arm moved behind me, and I let him pull me against him. I shivered under his arms as he held me tight. He rocked me, stroking my still damp hair. Maybe I was still dreaming. If this were real life, would I be letting a strange man hold me? Then, when Jackson asked “Who will kill you?”, I realized his strong arms were real, and I very much wanted them to be safe.
    I wanted to tell him what had happened as I sat secure in his embrace, not like Troy—nothing like Troy. I wanted to be able to trust someone. Still, how could I tell him that just that very morning I’d killed my husband? That I had his blood all over my hands when I ran, that I didn’t look back and didn’t call for help. I just left him there bleeding to death, I hoped. Did it make me a bad person that I hoped he was dead? I pushed myself away from Jackson’s strong arms.
    “ I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting all this on you. You don’t even know me. You must think I'm horrible the way I walked into your place so early this morning all beat up.” I swiped at the tears on my cheeks and sniffled as I sank back against the pillows.
    “ Listen, I want to help, really, but I understand your reluctance to confide in me. Hell, you don’t know me from Adam, so if you don’t feel like talking about it yet, that’s okay. I’m ready to listen whenever you’re ready. Look, are you hungry? I made some eggs and toast and a fresh pot of coffee. I thought maybe you’d like a bite to eat. There’s not much food up here. Later, if you like—when you’re feeling better—you can come down to my place, see if there are any staples you’d be interested in bringing up here. You know, tea, coffee, milk, sugar, cereal. Or if I don’t have what you want or need, I can take you to the store, or better yet, go for you.”
    “ What cloud did you say you were from?”
    He laughed. “See that one over there?” He pointed out the window. “No, not that one,” he said, as my gaze followed his, “the lighter one, over there. The one shaped like Pluto.”
    “ The dog or the planet?”
    “ The dog, of course.”
    At that I smiled, and found myself relaxing a bit.
    “ Eat your eggs, you need your strength. I’ll leave you alone for a while to rest. Then you can expect me back to wake you up again. As Doc said, no more than two hours sleep at a time. Oh, here are two bags of ice.