Page 59 of Peripheral Vision (Tethered in Darkness Duet #1)

Chapter

Thirty-Six

FLETCHER

W e drove in silence until we reached a hotel a few towns away.

We all needed some R&R, but we were also warned not to go too far because our bosses were going to have questions for us, as well as Dylan.

If I could prevent them from having her rehash everything she not only saw in there, as well as went through, I would.

To open up barely healed over scabs… dissecting every memory, every moment, as if reducing it to data points when she should be able to make her own progress, work through her own trauma, it infuriated me.

And the selfish part of me only wanted her to go through it with me, to let me kiss away every bad memory and wash them from her skin with our sweat.

She wasn’t going to let me touch her so soon, she seemed resigned to never letting me do it again, but I broke through her walls once and I’ll do it again—even if it means I have to give up control and let her take the reins.

We check in to the hotel under assumed names, a precaution that has become second nature in situations like this.

The clerk barely glances up as I hand over the cash and mumble something about needing two rooms. Dylan may not want me to touch her, may not want to be around me in general, but this was something I wouldn’t budge on.

I need to be able watch her, to breathe in her presence and see that she is really truly here in front of me, alive.

We need to talk, but we need to sleep more.

Emotions are too raw to risk anyone saying or doing something they can’t take back and the last thing I want to do is push her away even further.

Once the door clicks shut behind us, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

Dylan drops onto the edge of the bed, her shoulders stiff and her hands twisting in her lap.

She hasn’t said a word since we left, and the silence is unnerving me.

I lean against the door, debating whether to say something or give her the space she so clearly needs.

My instincts scream at me to close the distance, to kneel in front of her and beg her to let me in, but I know better.

Instead, I cross the room and sit on the chair by the window, keeping a careful distance.

I eventually break the silence. “You should clean up, get some rest.”

Her fingers still, and for a moment I think she might speak. But then she shakes her head, a sharp movement that makes my chest tighten. “I can’t… I can’t bear to look at myself, and I’m scared of what I’ll find in my sleep.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, digging deeper than the knife wound in my side.

I want to tell her she is wrong, that she is still whole, still her.

But empty reassurances wouldn’t help either of us.

“You don’t have to face it alone. You don’t have to look, or sleep, or do anything until you’re ready.

But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.

If it’s space you need, I’ll give it to you, just don’t make it permanent.

” Because I’m not sure I’d be able to do that.

“I told you I don’t know how to… do this. I don’t even know what this is anymore, if it was ever anything to begin with.” Her voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

I have to be careful not to let any of my frustration or desperation show. “It doesn’t have to be anything right now. No expectations, no rules. Just you and me figuring it out, one moment at a time.”

She lets out a humorless laugh and the sound cuts through me. “ You make it sound so easy. Like I can just… turn it off. Like I can forget.”

This isn’t going well. I’m already messing this up. This is why I wanted to rest first and then talk. “I’m not asking you to forget, I would never ask that of you. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re in this alone. That you don’t have to be alone.”

She looks away, her jaw clenching as tears threaten to spill. “I feel… shattered. Like if I even try to pick up the pieces on my own, I’ll just end up cutting myself.”

“Then don’t pick them up yet. Just let them be. You don’t have to put yourself back together all at once.”

She starts twisting her hands in her lap again, and for a long time neither of us say anything. But eventually her voice comes, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to let you help me. What if… what if I can’t give you what you want?”

I swallow hard, standing up to approach her but I stop myself.

“Then I’ll love you anyway. I don’t care how long it takes or what it looks like.

You’re not broken, little viper. You’re hurt.

And healing is going to take time. But you’re still you.

And you’re still worth everything. And even if you never let me touch you again, I’ll still be here.

Because you’re enough just as you are—whoever that is, whoever you may become—I’m here for that person, too. ”

Her breath hitches, several tears spilling from her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

I take another step forward, but only a single step.

Close enough to let her know I meant it, but far enough to give her the space I know she needs.

“I know exactly what I’m saying. You’re strong, Dylan.

Stronger than anyone I know. You don’t have to believe it right now, but I’m going to keep saying it until you do. ”

She nods, a shaky, hesitant motion, and turns toward the bathroom. She pauses in the doorway, her hand on the frame as if bracing herself. “Can you stay? While I’m in here, I mean… not in the bathroom. Just close… so I know I’m not alone? ”

“Always,” I say.

She disappears inside and I sink back into the chair, the sound of running water the only thing breaking the silence.

It wasn’t much, but it was a step. And for now, that is enough because it means that despite her words from earlier in the night, there is still a chance out there for the both of us.

I wake up to the sound of banging on the door and shoot up out of my chair, reaching for my gun. But I quickly relax when I hear Nathan’s voice on the other side. “Fletcher, hey, open up.”

It’s only after I open it that I realize Dylan isn’t in her bed and that the bathroom door is still closed.

Fuck. How long was I asleep for? How long has she been in there?

Has she even come out? The worst-case scenario starts rushing through my brain as I almost let the door close on Nathan and rush to open the bathroom door, which is thankfully unlocked.

It creaks open and the first thing I see is Dylan curled up on the cold tile floor.

My heart lurches. She’s lying on her side, her head resting on one arm, her legs tucked up like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

Her breathing is steady, but the sight of her like this, it’s wrong.

“Dylan?” I say softly, stepping inside. The air feels heavy, like it’s been holding onto everything she’s been through.

I crouch down beside her, careful not to touch her yet, and watch her face.

There’s a faint crease between her brows, like she’s been warring with her nightmares.

Nathan’s voice comes from the door behind me, cautious and unsure.

“Is she okay?”

I glance over my shoulder, shaking my head.

“She’s sleeping. But she needs some new clothes…

would you?” She had fallen asleep in her towel, which was barely covering her skin, and I can see the goosebumps pebbling along each visible inch.

She had fallen asleep crying too, the faint redness around her eyes an indication.

“How come you didn’t come to me, little viper?

” I whisper. But of course, I know the answer to that.

I reach out, hesitating for just a second before brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Dylan.” I keep my voice soft. “Hey, it’s Fletcher.

Can you wake up for me?” She sits, her brow furrowing deeper before her eyes flutter open.

For a moment she’s disoriented and scrambles away from me until her back is touching the wall, her fists clenched tightly around her towel until her gaze lands on me.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “You’re safe. You’re here with me. Nathan is here, too. Remember?”

Her eyes well up and she presses her lips together like she’s trying to stop herself from breaking. But she doesn’t look away. “I-I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she murmurs, her voice raspy and thick. “I just?—”

“You don’t have to explain, it’s okay, little viper. You’re okay.”

She sits up slowly, wincing as if her body aches from the cold floor, but I know it’s from so much more. Nathan steps closer, but I give him a look that says, not yet. She needs space first.

“Can you stand?” I ask, holding my hand out but not forcing it. “Can we get you more comfortable? We have some clothes for you. They’re a little big but they’re better than those…” I nod to the bloody and torn items she was wearing, now discarded on the floor.

She stares at my hand for a moment then nods, her fingers trembling slightly as she places them in mine.

It’s a small movement, but it’s enough to tell me she’s still here, still fighting.

“Give us a minute, okay?” I ask Nathan, who nods and closes the bathroom door behind us.

“Can I help you, or do you want me to leave, too?”

Her eyes flicker to mine, uncertainty clouding the depths of her gaze.

For a moment, I think she might tell me to go.

I can see the way she wants to with the way she is shifting foot to foot.

But then she surprises me and shakes her head, her grip on my hand tightening just enough for me to feel the fragile thread of trust she’s extending. “You can stay,” she whispers .

“Okay. If you need to stop, tell me,” I say softly, keeping my tone steady.

I kneel beside her, careful to move slowly.

“Can I help you step into these?” I hold out the sweatpants that are a few sizes too large for her, courtesy of my travel pack because I didn’t think ahead enough to bring anything of her own.

She’s going to be swimming in them, but there’s a part of me that can’t wait to see her in my clothes regardless of how she looks.

She lifts one of her legs, careful to keep her towel secure and covering her modesty, as well as balance properly so she doesn’t injure her hurt ankle any more, but I don’t miss the bruises or scabs that mar her body as I pull them over her legs, cinching them at the waist so they don’t fall down.

I hand her the hoodie next. “Do you want to do this part?”

She grabs the hoodie from me, rolling the material between her hand before she looks up at me through sad eyes. “Can you turn around?”

I offer her a sad smile and do as she asks, but the mirror in the periphery of my vision still exposes the parts of her I know she wanted to hide from me—and it has nothing to do with her perfect breasts.

Her ribcage and sternum are black and blue, etched with dozens of cuts.

She struggles to pull the hoodie on, one of her wrists splinted in a half-assed manner, making it hard to get through the sleeve.

She catches my eyes in the mirror and slumps with defeat and shame, wrapping her arms around herself.

I turn toward her then, lifting a gentle hand below her chin to make her look at me. Her eyes dart away, but I keep my touch soft and patient. “Don’t hide from me, little viper. Never from me.”

Her bottom lip trembles as she whispers, “I’m not… I’m not who I used to be. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I never wanted to see me like this.”

My heart cracks at her words, leaning in just a fraction closer. “You’re right. You’re not who you used to be. You never will be again.” I watch her flinch and quickly add, “You’re stronger. Braver. More beautiful than I’ve ever seen you.”

I can tell she doesn’t believe me by the look on her face, though. “ Look at me… how could this—” Her voice breaks as she retreats further into herself.

“I am looking. I’ve been looking. And you want to know what I see?

” I brush my thumb against her jawline. “I see someone who’s endured hell and still shines brighter than anything I’ve ever known.

These marks, they’re proof of what you’ve survived.

They don’t make you less, little viper. They make you more.

” Tears pool in her eyes once more, but she doesn’t look away.

Instead, she studies me like she’s searching for a crack in my conviction, a lie she can use against me.

But she won’t find one, because I mean every fucking word.

“You’re still the most beautiful thing in the room.

Not because of how you look, but because of who you are.

Everything you are. Everything I know you’ll be again, at your pace, in your time. ”

Her arms loosen their grip on herself, just slightly, and she releases a soft, shaky breath, allowing me to help her further with the hoodie.

Once I pull it on over her head, pulling her hair gently from the hood and brushing it out as best I can with my fingers, she looks at where I stand behind her in the mirror.

“I think it’s time I get to know who you are, too. ”