His body seemed to stiffen at my words. “I can take a rain-check on that, right? Like I can cash that jumping in as soon as we’re better?”
I grinned, chuckling at the hopefulness in his voice. “Hell to the yes,” I replied.
He cupped my face in his hands. “God, I love you, woman.” He kissed my forehead.
“Woman? That had better be a joke,” I scolded, laughing.
He laughed and ran his fingers through my hair, down my neck and over my shoulders before gripping my waist and pressing himself closer to me carefully. My whole being was just a mass of feelings, a big jumble of something I couldn’t even describe because each individual emotion, feeling, and thought, was all tangled together into a big ball of passion. I longed to kiss every square inch of his chest, every bruise, every little cut or mark, to try and kiss the pain away, but my movement was limited.
Instead, we just lay there facing each other. We didn’t speak, there was nothing to say and we both felt the same. After about ten minutes of just enjoying the closeness, he cleared his throat. “Can I talk to you about something?” he asked, looking slightly uncomfortable.
I nodded, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Yeah, sure.”
“I don’t want to upset you,” he whispered, brushing his hand across my cheekbone.
I smiled at his sensitivity. “You won’t upset me. What’s wrong?”
He was absentmindedly drawing little patterns on the skin at the back of my neck. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, seeming to choose his words carefully. “You married him? Carter,” he asked finally.
I drew in a shaky breath. Okay, I wasn’t expecting that! “Not by choice,” I whispered, praying that he wouldn’t think badly of me. I didn’t want to marry him, I didn’t want anything.
He nodded sadly. “I know that, Baby Girl. I just wondered why you didn’t tell me.”
I winced. “I didn’t tell anybody,” I admitted.
“Nobody? You didn’t tell your parents? All this time?” he asked, sounding a little shocked.
I shook my head. “No, I was ashamed; I didn’t want anyone to know.”
He kissed my nose gently. “You don’t need to be ashamed. You never need to be ashamed because none of it was your fault,” he said tenderly.
I smiled; he always knew just what to say to make me feel better. “I know. I guess it doesn’t matter now,” I shrugged, meaning the fact that he was dead and we weren’t married anymore.
He was quiet for a little while. “How did you even get married at sixteen?” he asked curiously.
I sighed at the memory. “He took me to Vegas; we went through a drive-through chapel so I didn’t have to speak to anyone. He used my fake ID that Jack had got me that said I was twenty-one,” I explained, grimacing. I didn’t want to think about it, or that fact that Carter couldn’t wait until we got back to his house to consummate the marriage so he’d pulled over to rape me by the side of an old road in the back of the car.
“Vegas? When was that?” he asked, stroking my hair away from my face.
“September 16th, 2008.” I bit my lip; that date was engrained in my memory.
He winced. “You’d been with him for six months.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Ashton.” I really was sorry, although I wished in a way that he had never found out; I could see this was hurting him.
“It’s okay. I understand, honestly I do. I’m so sorry that all of this happened to you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you again, I promise.”
I smiled at his understanding, wondering again why on earth an incredible boy like him would want someone like me, who had so much baggage that I could barely carry it all. “The only thing that could hurt me now, Ashton, is you. I’ve given you the power to kill me and you don’t even know it.”
He laughed and laced his fingers through mine. “Then I guess you’ll always be safe because I will never hurt you, not ever,” he promised as he kissed me tenderly, making everything feel better in my world. He was so careful, always so gentle that it made my heart ache with love for him. I smiled and buried my head in his chest and felt a happy tear fall down my face. The reality that it really was over finally sank in, and I felt my tired muscles relax into his embrace. Everything was going to be fine from now on. Ashton loved me. The player had my name tattooed on his chest. He wanted me forever.
“I love you, Anna,” he murmured into my hair.
“I love you more, Ashton.”
I wrapped my arms around him and smiled against his neck, breathing him in. Now I was home. Lying in Ashton’s arms was how I wanted to spend every waking hour for the rest of my life.
Chapter Fifty-Two
After a week of lying around in a hospital bed and being scolded by Ashton for overdoing it every hour of every day, I was finally discharged. The best thing about being discharged, as far as I could see, was that Ashton would finally get to sleep in a bed. He’d spent the week sleeping at my bedside in an uncomfortable chair because he didn’t want to leave me. The silly boy was suffering for his chivalry too because every morning, I watched as he stretched his bunched muscles and winced. He’d refused to share the hospital bed with me because he was frightened he’d roll on me and tear my stitches. I was looking forward to tonight as he could finally sleep in a bed and relax. That wasn’t happening at our apartment though; instead, we’d travelled to stay with my parents in Washington for a week at their request. Ashton had called his captain and had been signed off work for an extra week before he was expected to return to light duties, so the timing for being pampered by White House staff had worked out perfectly.