Un-Shattering Lucy (Lucy & Harris 4)

Now, as I savored waking up with her tucked so close to me and sleeping so soundly, I took my time letting my eyes feast on every single part of her. Her thick, curly hair was rumpled and had fallen half into her face. I carefully pushed it back, wanting to see her beautiful face. She had the slightest dusting of freckles across her nose from all the sun we’d gotten while at the beach and in Orlando. I took my time counting each one of them before moving lower.

She was wearing one of my old shirts that I’d left her as well as a pair of old running shorts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could see that her nipples were already beaded into little diamonds even in her sleep. I wanted to wake her up by licking those pretty nipples. Wanted to take my time and taste every part of her. Unable to not touch her, I lifted a hand and skimmed my fingers from her shoulder to her wrist, trying to fight the need to touch other places.

Reaching her wrist, I felt the familiar leather of her bracelet and slowly started unsnapping it. I hadn’t seen the ink that matched my own in forever and I wanted to trace my fingers over it. My own tattoo had brought me a little peace during my time without her. Knowing that she had the same ink meant we would always be connected through it.

Carefully pulling the bracelet off, I was surprised to find a Band-Aid. Concerned and more than a little curious, I slowly turned her wrist over. The room was dim from the sun trying to shine through the half-closed blinds, but it was enough to make out the tattoo.

Or what was left of it.

My stomach roiled with nausea as I counted the little scars on her wrist and then traced over the angry-looking puckered one that was thicker and longer than the others. At first I couldn’t make sense of what I was looking at, but slowly realization started to dawn on me and my blood turned ice cold.

I didn’t want to admit that what I was seeing and thinking were true, but it was hard not to believe it when the truth was so blaringly obvious.

My head started to spin as dread filled me to my bones.

Had Lucy really been hurting herself?

I knew it was a possibility but prayed it wasn’t the truth. I’d always thought Lucy was the strongest person I’d ever known. Even with all the things she’d been through with her biological father I’d thought she had learned to cope. She’d gone to a therapist and I’d been there for her to talk to whenever she needed me. She didn’t need to harm herself.

Just thinking of her doing that to herself, being so lost in her pain that she needed to resort to that kind of release, was like being punched in the chest. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to admit it was even a possibility.

But even as I tried to deny it, my gut was yelling at me that it was the reality.

My thumb skimmed over the puckered flesh and as I looked closer I saw what could only be the marks from stitches.

Stitches.

Lucy sighed in her sleep and shifted beside me, but I didn’t release her wrist. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she smiled up at me so happily that it broke my heart. How could my happy girl do this to herself?

But she hadn’t been happy months ago, had she? I’d sent her away. I’d hurt her.

Seeing the look on my face, she started to open her mouth, but quickly snapped it closed when she realized what I was doing. She sat up in bed, trying to pull her arm free, but I couldn’t let her go. If I did, she would hide and deny it, and even though I wanted to deny it myself, I couldn’t let that happen.

“What is this?” I tried to keep my voice quiet and calm, but it shook a little as I forced her to hold my gaze. “What are these scars from, Lucy?”

I saw the guilt and shame that flashed in her eyes before she lowered her lashes, effectively locking me out. “They’re nothing,” she said in a voice completely devoid of all emotion.

“Nothing.” I nodded and reached for the Band-Aid. Before she could stop me, I pulled it off, exposing a fresh cut that was still trying to bleed. “When did you do this?” She didn’t answer, and I tightened my hold on her wrist just enough to make her know I wasn’t going to drop this. “When?”

Her chin lowered and she closed her eyes tightly. “Last night,” she whispered in a voice that sounded nothing like my Lucy. “I…I tried not to, but…” She shrugged. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

If I had been standing, I knew I would have fallen to my knees at her answer.

Yesterday.

“Why?”

“I…” She broke off, swallowed hard several times, and tried again. “I couldn’t breathe. Missing you, wanting to be home with you…It all became too much. I just needed to breathe. This…I-It helps.”

Tears burned my throat, but I couldn’t let them fill my eyes. I needed to keep a clear head while I tried to figure this all out. “Have you been doing this long?” She didn’t answer. “Did it start after January?” Had

I caused this? Was our breakup all those months ago what had triggered this need to harm herself?

Still she remained quiet, but I could tell from the set of her shoulders that there was more to this than just what had happened with Tessa and the ensuing aftermath. “Lucy… please, talk to me. I need to understand what and why…”

A single tear fell from her closed lashes and spilled onto her cheek. “It started when I was twelve,” she confessed, completely knocking the air out of my chest.

Christ, how had I never suspected?