But Sal’s soft voice drifts. “Luke? Are you okay?”
Is he okay? He should be asking her that.
When he turns back around, he sees Sal freeing herself from the straitjacket of a towel Luke’s swaddled her in. Carefully, she keeps covered. Only the side’s fallen open to expose her torso.
He isn’t quick enough to stop the hitch of his breath. Or the faint expression of shock that’s passed over his face.
Sal stares up at him. She’s caught him looking.
Her lips thin, part. “This is from the crash.” She points at the scar tissue on her bony rib cage. Her face, contorted into a pretty frown, says she thinks it’s ugly.
To Luke, it’s anything but ugly. All he can think about is how beautiful it is. How it means Sal is alive.
Before he can form a response, Sal asks, “Do you have any scars? From that night?”
Not physical, Luke wants to say.
“No,” he answers hoarsely. Feeling bad about the fact, feeling like the shittiest person to walk the planet. It should have been him, he thinks. A mantra tattooed inside his brain.
Sal draws the towel tight around herself. “Roy told me I was mugged.” Disgust stains her voice. “It’s nice to finally know the truth behind my scar. Even if I can’t remember it. I always knew something was off, but I never imagined this. I never thought it was this ...” Sal breaks off, overwhelmed.
Luke moves in front of her, desperate to take her in his arms.
Sal squeezes her eyes shut tight and shakes her head. “I hate him so much, Luke. I hate him.”
“Did he hurt you?” Luke asks with lethal softness. He can’t help it. Some primal instinct in him has him crying out for an answer.
The question makes her wince. She sags forward a little and Luke reaches out to steady her. She places both palms against his chest. Raises her weary gaze to his.
For several long seconds, silence. Luke steels himself. It’s agony waiting for her to speak, to utter words no woman should have to, words that threaten to undo him. Then—
“He never raped me.” Sal’s voice is hard. “Never tried. I don’t think he could get it up.” Her laugh is dark, caustic. A sudden sadness flickers in her eye, a remembrance of something painful, and Sal hangs her head, her voice a grim whisper. “But yeah. He hurt me. In other ways, he did.”
Tears spill from her eyes, but then she exhales roughly, angry with herself. “I should have been braver, left sooner. Maybe if I had—”
“Hey.” His voice is firm. He’ll never push her, but damn if he’ll let her blame herself. “I don’t want you doin’ that. What he did—that ain’t on you.” Luke holds her eyes in his. “Do you understand me?”
She nods, nods, nods. Not trusting herself to speak. She’s a dam ready to burst.
“He was a monster of a man. A liar. A thief.” Her breath is a shudder. Racking her small frame like an aftershock. “Why? Why would someone do this?”
Sal’s fraught question scorches Luke’s soul.
She’s not asking for pity, she’s asking for an answer.
Though Luke aches to give her the truth, all he can say is, “I don’t know.” He looks down at Sal’s small hand pressed against his chest and covers it with his own. “What I do know is that he’ll never hurt you again. I swear it,” he vows, his fingers curling around her.
The vow is primal and protective, and it has Sal staring back at him, her green eyes unreadable.
“I’ll never hurt you.” Luke swears it like his dying breath. “I want you to know that. Even if you don’t believe it right now—I will always protect you.”
Sal studies Luke for a long minute. Then her lips part. “I believe you. I do.”
His heart clenches.
Her belief, her trust in him—it means everything to Luke. It means he can’t let her down again.
“I want you to help me remember.” Her voice soft. A plea. “Please. Can you do that?”