Page 3 of How to Trust a Hellhound (Hellhounds of Paradise Falls #4)

Josh

I wasn’t really asleep, but I wasn’t totally awake either. I felt… kind of outside of myself. My wrist and face were throbbing in time to my heartbeat, and that felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to my body.

I was just so tired.

I could hear Aiden talking to someone I didn’t recognize outside the car—probably his boyfriend.

I’d never met the guy. I felt a mild curiosity to see him, but opening my eyes and turning to look at them seemed like entirely too much work.

I probably did need to get out of the car, but that seemed exhausting, too.

There was a third voice, then, and I did open my eyes at that, although I couldn’t manage the energy to move my head to look. I thought maybe it was Dexter’s adopted dad, Wilder, who I’d seen at Toby’s party. There were more muffled voices, and then my car door opened.

Aiden’s voice was soft as he said, “Josh? We didn’t think about the cabin not having a road to it yet. It has a trail. Do you think you can walk? It’s maybe fifteen minutes. Or you can always stay with us, or with Toby.”

“Of course I can walk,” I said. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t fine, and on some level I knew that, but I was so used to saying I was that it came out automatically.

I could hold it together for a fifteen minute walk. Then everyone would leave me alone, and I could crawl into bed, sleep for a week, and not worry about Rick coming home or Toby asking questions or anything at all.

I distractedly thought about work for a moment—I’d have to email Barb and let her know I was taking some time off.

I had plenty of accrued time. Plus, I was ahead on all of my accounts because I’d been working a lot lately.

Numbers and spreadsheets and organizing data helped me not to think about the mess my life had become.

“Josh?” Aiden asked gently, and I blinked, because my eyes wanted to start tearing up at the understanding tone in his voice.

Yeah, I probably needed to get out of the car.

I nodded my head, although he hadn’t really asked a question, and I swung my legs out, holding my wrist close to my chest as I got out. I heard a growl from nearby when I stepped out, and I almost picked up my head to look, but I figured it must be Fluffy.

I didn’t want to look at Aiden’s boyfriend or the dad. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, a handprint across my face.

I felt ashamed.

Aiden must have sensed my wariness, because he said, “Wilder will bring your stuff to the cabin. Fluffy and I will walk you there and get you settled.”

I nodded my head. Good. I didn’t have to meet anyone right now. I felt sort of bad. Aiden had come to rescue me, and I should want to meet his boyfriend, but I just… couldn't.

“Why don’t you rest your hand on Fluffy’s back while we walk,” Aiden suggested.

Fluffy was suddenly next to me, and he was so big that I didn’t need to bend down to put my good hand on his neck.

I just rested it there, and he was super warm and super soft.

He started slowly walking, and I walked along with him.

I wondered vaguely if he was a service dog or something—he was clearly guiding me, which I was thankful for.

I didn’t want to pick my head up. I didn’t want to look around.

It was easy to just let my legs walk, look down at the ground, and follow Fluffy’s lead.

I don’t know how long we walked. Aiden had said it was fifteen minutes, so it must have been that.

Time was being funny, and it seemed like not long at all before Fluffy was guiding me up steps and through a door.

It was like he could sense how tired I was, because he led me to a bedroom.

I looked up to see a bed made up with sheets and a comforter, and it called to me.

I was so tired, but suddenly I didn’t want to get into bed with these clothes on. It felt like they were somehow sullied by the fight with Rick. I wanted to be clean. Clean pajamas and bed.

“Can I shower?” I asked, sensing that Aiden was right behind us.

“Of course,” Aiden said, and he guided me into the bathroom. There was a huge walk-in shower, and there was soap and shampoo and stuff inside it. “I can help you take your shirt off.”

I thought about it for a minute. I could drag my pants and underwear down with one arm, no problem. I wasn’t sure about the shirt, though, so I just nodded my head.

Aiden stretched it out a bit and managed to get it off my good arm first, and then he lifted it over my head, and finally down the side with my hurt wrist, barely jostling it.

“Oh, Josh,” Aiden said.

I knew I was bruised. I knew I had marks on my chest and back. Some of them were consensual, I supposed, and some of them were from fights.

“They aren’t… Some of them…” I started, but I trailed off, too tired to explain.

If Aiden had asked questions or showed me pity, I think it would have been my undoing, but he just walked over and turned the shower on to let it heat up .

“Do you need help getting anything else off?” Aiden’s voice was matter-of-fact and business-like, and I was thankful for it.

I shook my head no.

“Do you want me to pull out something comfy to wear? Maybe some sweatpants? And we’ll have someone look at your wrist, okay?” he asked.

“I’ll need a shirt,” I said. I didn’t want anyone else seeing my chest and back.

Aiden hummed thoughtfully then said, “I’ll grab a t-shirt from the house and cut the neck a bit so it’s looser and easier to get over your arm, okay?”

I nodded.

“Call if you need help.” Then he left, pulling the bathroom door gently shut.

I kicked off my shoes and sat on the toilet seat to take off my socks, and then I shimmied my pants down with my good hand. I kept my head down, refusing to look in the mirror as I got into the hot spray of water and started soaping down.

I knew what I’d see. A handprint on my cheek and, based on the throbbing I felt, maybe the start of some bruising, red-rimmed eyes from crying, and a swollen wrist. I was sure there were marks on my upper arms and a large bruise in the middle of my back from today’s fight.

There would be older bruises, too, from being grabbed or pushed.

Then there were the…. other marks. Bruises, bites, hickeys.

Once upon a time, I had enjoyed seeing my skin marked after sex—it had felt weirdly satisfying to feel like the sex had been so passionate that it had left behind marks.

Now, the marks just made me feel sick. Did I even like what Rick and I did in the bedroom anymore?

I used to enjoy things a little… rough. Wild.

Rick and I had started out with a fantastic sex life, where I felt sexy and wanted and powerful.

Now I didn’t even know what I liked. There were no soft words with a pinch or slap on the ass.

Things went from being sexy and flirty to just hurting, and I never complained.

Why hadn’t I ever said anything? Or maybe I had, and Rick had brushed me off and made me feel dumb.

That seemed to be the case when I said anything lately.

Rick made everything confusing, and there was just shame and fear when I thought about it all.

I was so fucked up.

I finished soaping myself off, probably rougher than I ought to be since I felt my skin ache. I washed my hair with the shampoo in the shower, then I turned the water even hotter to rinse off. I wanted to scald away the day. Burn off the past few months.

I gave a slight sob, and I heard rustling outside the door. I stifled my crying and turned off the water. Almost done. Almost time to just… let go. Aiden would look at my wrist, and then I’d climb into bed and just… sleep. Anything else seemed overwhelming.

I got out of the shower and there were sweatpants on the closed toilet seat. I managed to dry myself off with one arm, and then I sat down and finagled the sweatpants on one leg and then the other, standing to pull them up.

I opened the door to ask Aiden for the shirt, only it wasn’t Aiden standing there. It was Wilder. I took a shaky breath when I saw him, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. He didn’t look down at my chest. He just held the shirt out to me without a word.

If I had seen pity or disgust in his eyes, I would have shut the door in his face. But he just looked… calm. Understanding. Like it wasn’t all that bad. Like nothing was all that bad.

I took another shaky breath in, and maybe it was the start of a sob, I don’t know, but Wilder opened up his arms, still staring into my eyes and not looking at my bruises.

I didn’t make a conscious decision—I was just in his arms, crying onto his chest. I thought I was all cried out, but he was big and warm, and he was rumbling softly in a comforting way, making soothing sounds. Apparently I had more tears in me, because I sobbed against him .

I don’t know how long I cried. It felt like ages, but it could have been two minutes.

My eyes hurt. Everything hurt. Wilder was still rumbling in a soothing way.

He gently guided me to the couch, leaving me tucked into his chest. He sat down and sort of pulled me into his lap as he did, like I was a little kid.

Dear god, what was wrong with me? I had soaked the man’s t-shirt with tears and probably snot, and we hadn’t even really been introduced.

I started to pull away, but he just shushed me and held onto me.

I heard a knock on the door, and Wilder draped the t-shirt over my back, covering me up, still rumbling and holding onto me with one arm.

I knew I could have pulled away—I could tell he would have let me go if I really tried—but it was just easier not to, especially now that people were here. I couldn’t deal with people, and Wilder seemed to know it.

“Dry your face on my shirt, pup, and just stay here and relax while my boy takes a look at your wrist,” a deep voice rumbled into my ear. Then he rested his chin on top of my head, pressing my face in a little as if encouraging me to wipe my snot on him.

I gave a little uh-uh sound, shaking my head a bit, because I didn’t want to snot up the guy.

He just chuckled. “I raised five boys. Believe me, there’s no mess I haven’t seen.”

I felt like he was talking about more than just my wet face and his ruined t-shirt, and I relaxed a little in his arms.

He picked his head up for a moment, and I knew he wasn’t talking to me when he said, “Just Corbin and Aiden, I think.”

“And Fluffy,” I mumbled, because I wanted the big dog to come in, too.

He nodded his head against me. “Aye, Fluffy is a good emotional support animal.” He seemed to be teasing, but it wasn’t mean, and I didn’t think it was me who was being teased, either .

I heard them come in, and Aiden asked, “Do you want me to help you get your shirt on, Josh?”

I shook my head no. I didn’t want to move. I knew it was stupid and I was behaving like I couldn’t take care of myself, but Wilder was warm and he smelled good and I didn’t want to face anyone.

A hand reached between Wilder and me then, gently drawing my wrist out, which Wilder had been careful not to press against. I heard a caw, which sounded very close, but that didn’t make sense.

Fingers softly touched my wrist, there was a spark of pain, and then Wilder’s smell got stronger—it almost smelled of sap and a match that had gone out.

Wilder rumbled against my ear again, only it was deeper, and it seemed to settle inside of my bones somehow. I heard another voice—maybe Corbin’s?—humming or whispering or something, and then everything faded as I let my mind float away.