More Than Enough (Pelican Bay 4)

Not until today.

Not until Marcus.

It was all I could do to suppress the rage that went through me. I still had no way of knowing if the shirt was something Sawyer was hiding behind or if Marcus had made him change into it, but either way, I wanted to hunt the fucker down and give him back every wound, physical or otherwise, that he’d left on both Sawyer’s body and his mind.

“You can leave it on, sweetheart,” I managed to say with a reasonable amount of calm. This moment was about Sawyer, not Marcus.

I fully expected Sawyer to take me up on my offer, but to my surprise, he slowly began unbuttoning the shirt. Once it was off his body, he began to look around the room. I didn’t realize what he was looking for until he moved to the foot of the bed and reached to drape the shirt over the post.

So it wouldn’t get wrinkled.

Sawyer seemed to catch himself at the last second and then he just hung there, the shirt dangling from his fingers. It was painful to watch but eye-opening as well. How much of his life was made up of moments like these? Moments where the past intruded on his ability to live his life in the present?

I wanted to let out a little shout of victory when Sawyer let the shirt fall to the floor instead of hanging it off the post. There was no hesitation when he removed his pants and left them where they lay along with his boots. I couldn’t help that my body began to respond to the sight of Sawyer’s but the second he turned to face me, every cell in my body forgot about lust in favor of fury.

It was all I could do not to react to the marks on his neck. I had no doubt what they were or who’d put them there, but I managed to temper my need for blood and instead reached my hand out. Sawyer moved slowly to the bed, but his grip was tight when he wrapped his fingers around mine.

I fully expected him to lie down and turn his back to me but to my amazement, he pressed up against my side and dropped his head to my chest. One of his legs tangled with one of mine but surprisingly enough, I didn’t give any thought to if my stump repulsed him or not.

I wrapped both of my arms around him and let my fingers dance over his warm skin.

Sawyer was quiet for so long that I thought he’d fallen asleep until he suddenly moved his hand to capture one of mine. He studied our joined hands as our fingers fell into a natural rhythm of rubbing back and forth against one another.

“He didn’t do it in the beginning… putting his hands on me in anger,” Sawyer murmured. “And when he did, it was little stuff like grabbing my arm a little bit too hard or pushing me against the wall. He never hit me. Not even once.”

I wanted to point out that Sawyer was still very much a victim of abuse, both physical and emotional. Probably verbal too. But I remained silent because he’d asked me to listen to everything he needed to get out.

“In the beginning, he treated me like I was the most important thing in his world. He gave me expensive gifts, took me on ‘dates’ to foreign countries by way of his private jet, and showered me with romantic moments like bringing me breakfast in bed or leaving me notes telling me he loved me when he had to leave for work before I woke up. I was this dumb kid from a hick town in Arkansas who didn’t know anything about anything.” Sawyer paused for a moment before adding, “I was so afraid I’d end up back there.”

“Back in Arkansas?” I asked.

Sawyer shook his head. “Back to being that kid who wasn’t ever going to be anything. The kid who knew he wasn’t special enough to be…”

When Sawyer didn’t continue, I gently said, “Enough to be…?”

“Wanted,” he responded.

I closed my eyes. So the emotional abuse had begun long before he’d met Marcus. No doubt the older man had picked up on Sawyer’s vulnerabilities pretty quickly and had known exactly how to play on them.

“I had no hope of being able to give Marcus the same things he was giving me, so I made it my mission in life to be everything he wanted me to be. When he suggested I dye my hair brown so I wouldn’t look like someone who rode the waves all day, I did it without question. Dress shirts replaced T-shirts and every pair of jeans, board shorts, and flip-flops went into the trash. It didn’t matter that wearing a business suit made no sense for a vet or that the clothes were so fucking uncomfortable or that they made me feel like a little kid trying to play the part of a grown-up. I proudly wore the clothes my boyfriend had not only picked out for me but paid for as well. I was religious about getting my hair cut the way he liked it and the blond roots hidden because I hated how he’d look at me when I forgot to do it.”