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“How was work?” I asked, walking over to the refrigerator. I was starving.

“Eh.” He shrugged and leaned against the counter, watching me pile leftover spaghetti onto a plate. “Nothing exciting.”

“I bet you’re not complaining at the lack of excitement, though.” I put the plate into the microwave and turned back to him.

“Fuck no, I’m not.” He grabbed two beers and slid one over to me. “Talked to Phoenix today. Alex is pleading insanity. If the judge accepts it, he’ll go to a facility for the rest of his life, probably.”

“And if the plea isn’t accepted?”

“He’ll still go away for life,” Grayson answered, popping open his can before taking a drink. “But it’ll be in prison, where I doubt he will survive for even two years. Unless they separate him from the other inmates.”

I grabbed my plate and sat down at the table, but my appetite had faded considerably. I touched the scar on my collarbone where Alex had cut me.

Most of the cuts had healed, but I had a lot of scars on my chest and stomach. I could hide them under my clothes, but I was self-conscious about them when I took my shirt off. I’d even worn a shirt at the lake.

Grayson loved to kiss the scars, though.Battle scarshe liked to call them.

“You okay?” He stood behind me and slid his arms around my shoulders, resting his chin on my head.

“Yeah.” I gripped his arm and leaned against him, staring out the patio doors. The dark didn’t scare me anymore. Not after what I’d gone through. “As awful as Alex is, I sort of feel sorry for him. Is that weird?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Grayson kissed my head before pulling away. “You don’t have to like the monster in order to sympathize with what made them that way.”

“Maybe…” Alex stopped toying with the knife. “Maybe the worst of all is to realize you’re not the hero in your own story. That you were the villain after all.”

Alex’s words haunted me. I’d been on the brink of consciousness at that point, but I’d heard the raw pain in his voice as he said it. A side of him had to know what he’d done was wrong. Perhaps it was why he’d tried killing himself.

I shoveled some spaghetti into my mouth before dumping the rest in the trash and rinsing off the plate. I wasn’t as hungry as I’d thought.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Want me to join you?” Grayson arched a brow.

Instinctively, I touched the indention on my collarbone again. It was the ugliest of the scars and by far the most painful. Of course, Gray had seen me naked many times since the attack, but there was always a bubbling of nerves.

“Baby.” Grayson stepped forward and brought me against his chest. “You’re perfect in my eyes.”

“Yeah, with my clothes on.”

His hand moved to my nape, and he peered down at me. “You know what I see when I look at your scars? That you’re a survivor. That you’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t feel strong.”

“The fact that you’re standing here with me right now is proof you are. You show strength each day you wake up and go on with your life. Some people would’ve buckled beneath the trauma. Become a prisoner to it.”

“The only reason I’m not a complete mess right now is because of you,” I said, laying my head over his heart.

“Come on.”

Grayson took my hand and led me down the hall and toward the bathroom. He turned on the shower so the water could warm, and then he slid his hands up my arms and to my collar. My tie was undone, and he tossed it aside before helping me out of my suit. He made undressing me such a sensual act, his eyes focused on me the entire time.

Once my suit was on the floor and every part of me was visible, he glided a hand across my shoulders and down my chest. He leaned forward and kissed one of my scars before moving on to another, his beard tickling a bit.

I lightly laughed as he playfully chomped at my neck.

When we stepped into the shower, Grayson put his arms around me from behind, kissing down my nape and to the tops of my shoulders.

“Marry me,” he whispered against my skin.