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He pulls off his sock, revealing a wicked web of scars over the top of his foot. Like white faded ropes, they wrap around to his soles, where flesh-toned gashes and deep lacerations long since healed, crisscross his flesh.
It hurts just looking at them. My senses. My heart. My soul.
“He liked to use a razor blade,” he shares. “One cut a week. He started the night of my seventh birthday, and this is what made me wet my bed.”
Oh my god.
All I can imagine is Axel, what a beautiful little boy he must have been. Innocent and with big blue eyes. Eyes that cried in fear of his father. Fear that turned into rage. Rage that became revenge, hardening his warm blue eyes into ice.
I know that journey, too.
The coldness.
Sometimes, to survive abuse, you have to stop feeling anything for a while.
But now, I’ve never heard Axel’s voice so choked. I’ve never seen his hands shake while he pulls off his other sock, revealing more scars he’s hidden for years.
I wipe at my tears.
They won’t stop spilling down my cheeks.
“My mother was the last person to see this. Once we escaped him, I never looked back. I put this part of me away, andIcouldn’t even find him. Not for years.”
He takes my hand and places it on his right foot.
His skin, like everywhere else, is hard, warm silk, inked and stretched tight over muscles, but on his feet, it’s soft, almost tender, and so marred to the touch.
“I didn’t feel my heart again until I met you, Ruby.” He presses my hand to his flesh. He lets me see the tears brimming in his eyes. They’re not ice. They’re warm and looking at me. “Please trust; there’s no woman, ever, who can touch me like you do.”
I choke back a sob. For his sake. For his pride, I won’t do it. I swallow the lump in my throat and say, “I love you.” I lean down and kiss his foot, one then the other. “I trust you and I love you, too. Always.”
This is why he rubs my feet. He cherishes how they’re unmarked. How I have no scars on my skin, and I trust Axel will die to keep it that way.
He pulls me to lie down in his arms, my cheek against his chest. I can hear his heart pounding under his flesh. I touch it. I kiss it. I catch my breath while he catches his.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t,” he whispers back. “Don’t apologize for him.”
“I’m apologizing for me.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“I’ve been distant.”
“I understand why.”
“But I’ve made you wait.”
“I’d wait forever for you.”
When he holds me this tight. When he’s shown me everything. When I trust Axel more than any man, I smile against his skin.
“Liar,” I softly tease.
He chuckles. “Okay. I waited until I couldn’t. Until I had to chase you tonight.”
“And you caught me.”