My Kind of Beautiful (Finding Love 2)

“Lex, I need you to talk to me,” Alec pleads, picking me up and settling me into his lap. His arms encircle my body, making me feel safe. I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest. Whether it’s his incessant texting—both me and Georgia, who is on babysitting Lexi duty while he’s at work—to make sure I’m okay, or waiting on me hand and foot when he’s home, he’s been here in some shape or form since the second I was brought to the hospital.

Up until now, he’s made sure not to do or say anything that might upset me, but based on his tone, I think he’s getting frustrated. And I don’t blame him. Every time I go to sleep, I wake a few hours later screaming and crying, dripping in sweat.

At first, he thought it was because I was in pain, but then I apparently spoke in my sleep, begging someone to stop, and he knew then something else is going on.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I murmur into his chest, inhaling the clean scent of his bodywash. He must’ve showered when he got home from work, because even though he’s wearing a T-shirt, I can smell his body wash through it. “I’m having nightmares, but I don’t know what’s real and what’s made up.”

Alec tightens his hold on me. “Can you tell me about them?”

No, because if I do, I’m afraid that will make them real.

When I’m silent for too long, he says, “What about seeing someone? Like a therapist…someone you can talk to who isn’t close to the situation.” His suggestion tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am. The only reason I would need or want to speak to someone on the outside is if I didn’t feel comfortable talking to him, and there’s really only one reason I wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to him…

“Lex, please.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m worried about you. You’re barely talking when you’re awake, you haven’t gotten out of bed except to use the bathroom, you’re screaming in your sleep…There’s this wall that you’re building between us and it’s scaring the fuck out of me.”

I close my eyes and swallow thickly, silently willing the tears burning behind my eyelids not to fall. He’s not wrong, but I don’t know what to do, what to say. I need answers, but I don’t know how to get them. Unless…

“I want to go talk to Aiden.”

Alec nods. “When?”

“Now…” While I’m having a moment of fearlessness.

“All right.”

After throwing on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a tank, and throwing my hair up into a bun, we head to the beach in Alec’s truck. The closer we get, the more my heart rate accelerates, and that makes me sad as hell because the beach has always been the place I go to relax. It’s almost an extension of myself and now I’m scared to be here.

After I insist on grabbing Aiden something to eat and drink from the pier, we walk toward where Aiden’s tent is located. As I glance around for anyone who might be watching us, I realize just how scared I actually am, and that pisses me off.

Alec holds my hand, and I know he can feel me squeezing with every step we take.

When we get near Aiden’s tent, I let go. “I need to talk to him alone.”

“Lex…”

“He trusts me and is comfortable around me, and if we’re alone he might give me details he didn’t give you.”

Alec scrubs his hands over his face in frustration. “Okay, I’ll be right here.” He grabs me by my hips and pulls me close, his mouth fusing with mine. Before I can kiss him back, several flashbacks hit me, one after another.

A mouth attacking mine.

Hands gripping my hips.

A pelvis grinding into my front.

The onslaught of horrific images has me pushing Alec away.

“Lex?” The hurt in his voice has me opening my eyes and remembering that I’m here safe with Alec.

“I need to talk to Aiden,” is all I say before I turn my back on Alec and head over to the tent.

When I get there, he’s sitting in the sand, sketching in his sketchbook with his neon green glasses on. He must hear or sense me because he glances up and then drops his book.

“Lexi!” He pops up onto his feet and meets me halfway, engulfing me in a hug. It’s in this moment, I know with certainty Aiden would never hurt me and if anyone tries to accuse him of such, I’ll fucking destroy them.

“I was worried about you,” he says. “That man wasn’t loving you.”

Our conversation from not too long ago pops into my head.

“That’s a man and a woman loving each other,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Do you see this a lot on the beach?”