CALLI
My heart thrashes in my chest and my hand trembles as I pull the keys free once more and begin the task of finding out which one works on the door before me.
“Come on,” I beg when the first two don’t fit.
Thankfully, the third one is the one, and in only seconds, I’m sliding the huge door open and finally sucking in some fresh air, stepping out into the warmth of the spring sun.
My hands tremble and my chest heaves as I walk over to the double lounger and drop down.
I ignore my iPad and the phones in my pocket. Right now, I don’t have it in me to talk to anyone else.
My mind is reeling from my time with Daemon in that bedroom.
I squeeze my eyes closed, and the image of his scarred chest and stomach comes back to me.
My own stomach knots at the pain he’s obviously endured.
I knew about the operations he had as a kid. It was no secret that he was born with a hole in his heart and had more than a few surgeries to get everything corrected in his early years. But I wasn’t expecting the rest. The angry, rough wounds. The burns.
Red-hot tears fill my eyes as I try to even consider what he might have been through.
All the guys have been in more than a few fights over the years, and at some point, they’ve all been hurt badly enough to end up in the hospital, or at least to have Gianna pay them a visit to patch them up.
But I’ve never heard of Daemon getting hurt that badly.
I guess that shouldn’t really be a surprise, seeing as no one tells me anything. But something tells me that no one else knows either. And that just makes my heart ache.
A lone tear escapes, dropping down my cheek as I think of that poor little boy who was told again and again that he wasn’t good enough.
I might be totally naïve to what really happened, but I see it in him. I see his pain. I see his belief in the words that were spat at him as a child.
The only person who has any kind of understanding about what he’s been through is Alex. But even still, I suspect he doesn’t really know either.
Reaching up, I swipe the tear away angrily.
I don’t want him to think I’m pitying him.
I want to be strong for him. I want to stand by his side and hold his hand, show him that everything he’s always felt is bullshit.
But I can’t.
The sight of him, the things he said about himself…
A sob rips from my throat, the sound of it banishing that of the ocean just a few metres away.
Folding my legs before me, I drop my head into my hands and somehow manage to shed a few more tears. Only a few hours ago, I’d have claimed that I’d run them dry.
My insides, mostly my heart, feels like it’s done three rounds with Tyson Fury by the time my sob fest begins to subside.
With the afternoon sun burning through my black sweatshirt, I cross my arms across my body and drag it up over my head.
There are no other properties to be seen, and with only Daemon inside tied to the bed, I’m not too worried about anyone watching me sunbathing in just my bra and skirt.
I fall back against the lounger with a sigh and tilt my face toward the sun, desperate to feel more of its soothing touch. The heat wraps around me like a warm hug, and I stretch my body out, needing the emptiness that comes from drifting to that easy place inside my head. It’s the same place I go when I’m drawing, but I don’t have the energy for that right now. I just need… nothing.
The tears staining my cheeks have barely dried when a shiver runs down my spine and my nipples pebble against the lace of my bra.
Reaching my arms above my head, I wrap my fingers around the cushion and arch my back.