He blinks, gathering his thoughts. “I was curious about something.”
“You prepping for a fright fest or something?”
“You’re up late. It’s not an occasional instance. It’s every night, isn’t it?”
I slide under my covers. The therapist in me would claim I feel seen, but I’m not a therapist tonight. I’m a girl who doesn’t know how to answer that question.
“I took a walk over here to check. Saw your light on and waited for a bit. Then when I saw your lights go out, I started to leave. I think that’s when .?.?.”
“I heard you .?.?.” I finish softly.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sits on the far end of the bed and I’m oddly relieved he’s not leaving. “You know, they have over-the-counter stuff for that.”
I nod, adjusting against the headboard. “Comes in gummy form too, I know.” I smile weakly, then shake my head.
“How long?”
I suck in a breath. “Since senior year of college.”
Understanding crosses his features. He’s heard this timeframe before. When I went off the rails, as Wesley calls it.
He stares hard at me, a demanding glare. “What happened?”
I hesitate. But the want .?.?. no, the need to share this darkpart of me with Wilder is too strong to fight.
“You can’t tell my brother,” I start, my voice small.
“I promise.”
I sit up more against the headboard, keeping my eyes on the covers. “In college—early senior year—my roommate and I were attacked in the middle of the night.”
He stills, jaw hardening, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything.
“They broke in. It wasn’t even us they were looking for. The girls they were after lived next door. Anyway, one of them stripped my friend of her clothes, laughing the entire time. But the one who came after me, he was .?.?. aggressive. Or maybe I was. Because I fought him. Hard.”
I look up in time to see a hint of pride touching Wilder’s eyes. Still, no movement and no words.
“I don’t remember how long we fought. I know I gave it all I had until he knocked me against my full-length mirror.” I swallow hard. “It crashed into pieces behind me—or beside me, I guess.” I lower the blanket to show him the scars from the cuts along my arm.
“Christ, Rose.” He moves closer, lifting it to take a closer look.
His touch sends a chill through me and he pulls a throw from the edge of the bed and wraps it around my shoulders. I expect him to step back at this point, but he stays close.
Hot tears flood my eyes and my voice breaks. “I pulled them all out myself. That’s how I knew how to take care of Dallas’s arm.”
His eyes lift to mine, his voice gravelly. “You didn’t go to the hospital?”
I shake my head. “The crash was loud enough to wake the entire floor, so they fled. We were both in too much shock to be around people or talk to anyone.” Tears stream down my face. “So we never did.”
“Rose.”
“Stupid, I know.”
“I didn’t say that.”
I look up at him. “Well, then ask me how they broke in.”
He watches me wordlessly.
