She took a staggering step forward and halted. Sharp pain buried itself inside of her every nerve as some part of her refused to go to the tub. The long gold spigot called to her. She could almost hear the tight, releasing moan as her fingers turned the brass knob free. Her ears could summon the sound of water pressing up through the pipes, beating back gravity with its force, the soft flush of liquid breaking past the faucet and slowly pooling, filling the curves of the tub. Her eyes fell closed and her head rolled to one shoulder as she imagined the steam on her face, her curls tightening and moistening in the sultry, hot haze coming off the water and caressing her dewy skin, consuming her flesh. She moaned.
Her hands tightened into fists. One imperfect toe. Three lovers, one imperfect third. She didn’t fit. She and Mason had always been two, three seemed to be better, but now she would be forgotten, a pawn for pleasure in a game of deceit. They weren’t three. They were two and she was one.
Her fist smacked against her thigh hard. And then harder.
Again!
She struck the tender flesh under the linen of her pants until her muscles throbbed and she vaguely recognized that the beginnings of a bruise would be forming along her thigh. Far away in the distance she heard someone call her name, but she couldn’t answer.
Don’t go near the tub. Don’t cross the street without looking both ways. Don’t walk alone after dark. Don’t go near the tub.
She wouldn’t do this to herself. She wouldn’t do this to Mason.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
She thought of Dr. Young. Saw the woman’s number written in her notepad downstairs by the fridge. Knew the number, imagined dialing it, but couldn’t move her feet to get there. She didn’t trust herself to move in the right direction. The bath was still calling her, tempting her.
Abruptly, she stopped her self-abuse.
Two dozen thumps, eight sets of three, and her thigh muscle was screaming for mercy, but that wasn’t why she stopped. It was the pattern that fulfilled, won out over the tub. With shaking hands she brought her fingers to the tender flesh of her other wrist and pinched until tears stung her eyes. There. Conquered. She would deal with it later.
Trembling fingers wiped at her cheeks, brushed over her hair, and straightened her clothes. On a deep breath she forced her body to turn away and walk out of the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and moved to put the bed between it like a bulwark. Her breath came fast and she stared at the white carpet, her feet traveling over the snowy surface to the puddles of white sunshine over the glistening wood floors. Then her eyes touched on two large feet and she saw Mason watching her from the door, his expression full of horror.
* * * *
Mason’s body quaked with relief when Liberty emerged from the bathroom and slammed the door. He’d given her his word that he wouldn’t cross the threshold and enter her sanctuary without a clear invitation, yet even from his self-imposed exile in the hall he witnessed her internal struggle, saw her fighting back her demons, and knew he would break his word if she intended on harming herself.
He waited, seeing the effort it took her to collect herself as she sat on the edge of the bed. This was his fault. He knew he fucked up the moment he saw the linens dumped carelessly in the hall.
The game was over. He pushed her too far and he would never forgive himself if he sent her back to the dangerous place they’d spent the last five years clawing up and out of.
She seemed to catch her breath. The weight of Sean’s eyes on him from down the hall pulled at his heart like a thousand hooks, but his focus remained on his wife where it was needed most.
The same selfish side of him that had gotten them into this predicament wanted to call to his boy, ask for his support in helping their girl. But he wasn’t his boy and she wasn’t their girl. She was his wife and Sean was supposed to be a guest in their house. Liberty’s home. She was supposed to be safe here. He never imagined she would evoke his promise regarding the third floor when the entire house was intended to be her sanctuary, yet there she sat, unreachable and yet only ten feet away.
Her body stiffened as she noticed him standing there. He hated the way her blue irises shimmered under unshed tears. Tears he caused. “May I come in?”
“You love him.”
Not a question. Mason looked down, unable to meet her gaze. He could feel her determination, sense her need to know the truth.