You Belong With Me (With Me in Seattle 14)

She closes her eyes in defeat and leans her forehead against my chest.

“Archer.”

My hands glide up and down her arms.

“Come on.” She looks up at me now with clear, determined eyes. “Let’s go outside.”

“I’ll pour us some wine on the way.”

“We’re going to need it.”Chapter 10~Elena~I haven’t gone back to that day in my head in years. The memory of the physical pain has lessened with time, and I always chalked it up to a lesson.

Once Archer has the wine poured, we take our glasses out into the dark evening. He covers the tub, and we sit in the plush chairs, facing the sea.

It’s choppier out there tonight, just like the emotions boiling inside of me.

“I’m not sure where to start,” I admit after I take my first sip of wine.

“The beginning is always a good place.”

“Before I do, I need you to remember that this is the past, Arch. It can’t be changed, and I’m fine now.”

He blows out a breath. “Not ominous at all.”

I lick my lips. “I was so happy that day you dropped me off at the house. The weekend in Idaho when we eloped was the best of my life, and I was riding high on that adrenaline. I didn’t think anything could touch me. I figured I’d make my announcement, pack my things, and call you to come and get me.”

“That was the plan,” he agrees.

I sip my wine and lick my lips. “My father was…livid. I’d never seen him like that before. He reminded me of my place in the family and then dragged me up to my bedroom.”

I methodically explain the next twenty-four hours to him. From the moment my father tied me up, to the phone call where I lied to Archer and broke off our relationship.

When I finish, he doesn’t say a word. He simply stands and walks to the railing of the deck and stares out at the beach. The anger rolls off him in waves. His fingers white-knuckle the railing, and the veins in his forearms are corded and popping out. For me, it’s old news, but for Archer…it’s happening here and now. All I want to do is soothe him.

“I know it’s hard to hear.”

“Stop.” He turns back to me and shakes his head. “It’s not hard. It’s fucking unbelievable. Inconceivable. Evil. Terrifying. I could go on.”

“I get the idea.”

He crosses to me and squats in front of me, his hands on the arms of the chair. He’s not touching me.

“I want to see the scars.”

“Archer…” I look at him and shake my head. “I don’t know, I—”

“Elena.” He grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. “I need this. You were the love of my life, and I dropped you off and left you there.”

“Don’t try to take the blame. This is all on him.”

“Please.”

Without hesitation, I raise the skirt of my dress high on my thigh, where the W is branded on my skin.

“That son of a bitch.” His voice is rough with emotion, but his fingers are careful as he lightly traces the scar. He leans in and gently lays his lips on the wound and kisses me there. “And your back?”

I stand to show him, but a light from the neighbor’s house comes on.

“Inside,” Archer says. “And don’t let me forget to have a privacy screen installed.”

He leads me through the house to his bedroom, turns on the sidelight next to the bed, and then turns back to me.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m going to kiss every inch of your amazing body before too much longer, so I’ll see them eventually. But I want you to show me.”

I turn my back to him and let the dress fall around my ankles, then pull my hair over one shoulder, exposing my back.

“Christ.”

I know what it looks like. That many lashes leave a hell of a mess on a person’s skin.

“How many?”

“Archer—”

“How fucking many?” he demands. His voice, still raw, isn’t raised, but that doesn’t make it any less powerful.

“Twenty.”

I expect him to kiss them. Touch them. But he surprises me by simply wrapping his arms around my chest from behind and burying his face against my neck. This is what I needed all those years ago. These are the arms I needed around me, to reassure me, to hold me.

And we were both robbed of it. We lost so much time. We lost each other.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry I didn’t fucking kill him myself.”

“You were safe, and that’s all that mattered to me,” I insist, turning in his arms so I can see his handsome face, memorizing every line all over again. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I failed you,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have left you alone that day. I should have insisted that I go in with you to face him together.”