“I’m surprised there aren’t any permanent marks.”
“From what?” I tilt my head and look at him quizzically.
“The rope.”
I freeze, overcome by a sudden, sinking feeling in my chest. I pull my hand away from his and tuck it between our bodies.
“Sorry,” Deklan says quietly. “I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories.”
“I don’t really remember any of it.” I lick my lips and try to keep my breathing steady. I stare at a shadow on the wall to keep my mind focused outside of my head. I try to find a discernible shape in the shadow, but it’s nothing more than a blob.
“What do you mean?” Deklan asks, and I have to take a moment before I can answer him.
“I assume you mean when I was kidnapped. I don’t remember much of it.”
“What do you remember?”
I tense again as memories of therapy sessions rattle through my head. I steel myself against any actual memory, and when I speak, my voice is monotone—rehearsed.
“I remember getting off the bus and starting to walk home. I remember someone grabbing me and throwing me in a van. There weren’t any windows in the back. All I remember after that is waking up in the hospital.”
Deklan also goes still and doesn’t say anything else for a couple of minutes.
“You lost four days?”
“I guess so.” I shrug. This is not a topic I care to discuss with anyone, and questions make it difficult not to trigger the few memories I have. “That’s what they tell me anyway.”
“You don’t remember anything at all?”
I don’t know why he’s harping on this, but it’s very uncomfortable. I squirm a little, trying to put some distance between us, but he’s holding me tightly. I fall back on more rehearsed lines.
“I get a few flashes every once in a while, sometimes dreams, but I never remember the details when I wake up. I remember being kidnapped. I remember being scared and thinking I was going to die.”
“What about…what about when you were found? Do you remember anything about that?”
“Not really.” I shake my head. “A vague recollection of being picked up off the ground, but that’s it.”
Deklan leans his head back against the pillow and stares at the ceiling. He looks frustrated, and I feel guilty for not being able to tell him more.
“I don’t like thinking about it.” Admitting this doesn’t appear to alleviate his frustration, but he does hug me close to him for a moment.
“It’s all right,” he says. He looks closely at my eyes, and I think he’s going to say something else, but he stays quiet. Shuffling a little, he lays flat on his back, and I place my head on his shoulder.
He’s warm, and I’m still sleepy. At some point, I doze off again. When I wake, I’m on my back with Deklan still beside me, his arm under my shoulders and one leg tossed over mine. I stare at his peaceful, sleeping face for a moment before carefully pulling my legs out from under him and heading to the bathroom.
I’m fully awake now, and I’m not sure if I should go back to bed and wait for him to get up or just go ahead and find myself some breakfast. The rumbling in my stomach makes the decision easier. Trying to stay as silent as possible to keep from waking Deklan, I pull on a pair of the panties he bought me, grab his white T-shirt off the floor, and pull it on over my head. It hangs almost to my knees, which is actually quite perfect.
It smells like him.
I find very little in the refrigerator that counts as either fresh or breakfast food. There’s a box of cereal in the pantry but no milk. I see bread and cold cuts, so I place the bread in the toaster to make it at least feel breakfast-like.
I feel strange. Not bad, just different. I silently ponder the possible reasons: I’m married now. I’m no longer a virgin. I’m in a completely different kitchen and no longer live in my parents’ house. Deklan really isn’t planning on taking my life and throwing my body into a ditch. In fact, he seems rather…nice.
I think about how it felt to have his hands on me, and I realize I’m smiling.
Most importantly, I did not marry Sean Foley.
After seeing his behavior the last couple of days, I find myself relieved. I don’t know Deklan, but he is at least trying to make the best of all this. What he said last night made sense: he wasn’t any more prepared for this marriage than I was, and it puts us on similar ground.