Long Slow Tease: Penance Part 18

"Yeah." She bit her lip. "Am I still allowed to talk to you?"

He gave her a searching look, then nodded. "You are."

She nodded, and ironically enough couldn't think of something to say, so instead, she got out of the truck. As soon as she reached the paving stones leading to the front of the house she slipped her shoes off. The warm air caressed her skin and she took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the gra.s.sy dunes and the endless expanse of the Gulf.

Wyatt came up behind her and took her hand in his. "Let's go down to the beach."

The nervous ball of energy in her stomach continued to knot up and she was practically shaking by the time they made it to the beach. Wyatt gave her an odd look, then sat in the sand and pulled her down so she was cradled between his thighs with her back against his chest. He rested his head on her shoulder and began to gently stroke her arms.

"I really like it here," he murmured.

She watched the waves roll in, the white foam taking on hints of orange and red as the sun dipped below the horizon. "Me too. How did you find this place?"

"My grandparents have a home about ten miles from here. I always liked the beach, something about the great expanse of the ocean, the endless motions of the tide help me remember my place in the world."

"Is that why you brought me here? To remember my place?"

"Yes and no." He sighed. "I wanted you to remember your place, but not in a bad way. I wanted you to see that...well, that some of the things we think are so important, so world shattering, are nothing more than our personal demons."

She frowned, trying to understand him. "Like your PTSD?"

"Like our PTSD."

Overhead a seagull screamed and she tried to fight the immediate need to say she was fine, that nothing was wrong with her, that everything was okay, but it was f.u.c.king hard. No matter how much she wanted to confess to Wyatt about her nightmares, her self-doubt, everything she tried to hide from the world a small, panicked part of her mind insisted he would leave her if he found out how screwed up she was. It was irrational, stupid, and totally idiotic to think that he didn't know, but she just couldn't acknowledge that she had PTSD, at least not to him.

Wyatt loosely gripped her wrists. "Still not ready to admit it, are you?"

A harsh shiver worked through her and she tried to get out the words she needed to say, tried to admit that she was f.u.c.ked up, but her voice refused to work. Overwhelming fear that he would leave her tried to rob her of her sanity and she struggled to get out of his arms, but he threw his thighs over her legs and effectively pinned her.

"No, no running away from me, Mich.e.l.le. Don't you understand? I love you. Warts and all."

She shook her head. "I'll try harder, I..."

To her shock he bit the side of her neck hard enough to really hurt, startling a yelp out of her. "If you spew anymore of that bulls.h.i.t I'll take away your privilege to speak again, am I clear? I don't want to hear any of your f.u.c.king lies about how your life is nothing but sunshine and rainbows. You love me despite my f.u.c.ked up mind, why do you find it so d.a.m.n hard to believe that I can do the same? Do you really think I'm that f.u.c.king weak, that superficial? That my love for you isn't as strong as your love for me?"

"I'm sorry." She took in a ragged breath. "Please forgive me. I won't be a problem, I promise."

He released her and stood abruptly, refusing to look at her as he stared down the coast. "I'm sorry you can't believe that I love you."

Her heart broke as he turned and stormed off towards the beach house, and panic filled her that he was leaving her again. She struggled to her feet and ran after him, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and yanking him back hard enough that he stumbled and fell with her on top of him. She fisted his hair in her hands and the words tumbled out of her mouth, her fear of him not talking to her, of him ignoring her greater than her fear of showing him how f.u.c.ked up she was.

"I do know you love me. No one has ever gone to so much trouble to help me. Owen...Owen would have been long gone by now. My parents would have shipped me off to a psych ward, and even Yuki is getting tired of my s.h.i.t and she loves me more than anyone on earth, except you. Don't you get it? I'm so d.a.m.n unworthy of your love that I can't understand why you would want me."

He growled and flipped them over so she was on her back and he was pressing her into the soft sand. "Don't you f.u.c.king get it? You aren't unworthy, you're amazing. Yeah you have issues, but we all have f.u.c.king issues. You're still the strongest woman I know when you aren't letting your personal demons fill your head full of lies. And your family, your friends love you more than you know. You. Are. Loved. Not because of how perfect you are, but because of how beautifully flawed, how wonderfully screwed up and yet amazing you are. I don't want perfect, because perfect is a lie, I want you."

"No you don't, if you knew the real me you'd run. I know you would." She stood up and fisted her hands.

"What the f.u.c.k, Mich.e.l.le? What the h.e.l.l do I have to do to earn your love, your respect? I'm doing my f.u.c.king best and it never seems to be enough."

"It's not you, it's me!"

"Bulls.h.i.t! If I was good enough, strong enough you would have come to me instead of Petrov. You wouldn't have f.u.c.king lied to me and strung me along like a fool, believing your bulls.h.i.t. So don't you f.u.c.king dare pretend that everything is okay with me, ever. Do you hear me, Mich.e.l.le? Are my words getting through to you or are you still so wrapped up in your own bulls.h.i.t that nothing I say is sinking in? I love you, but sometimes you're so G.o.dd.a.m.ned self-centered that it drives me f.u.c.king crazy." He yelled the words so loud a flock of seagulls down the beach took flight and their startled shrieks filled the air. With a furious look in his eyes he took a step back, then another. "How the h.e.l.l am I supposed to stop you from self-destructing next time the pressure gets too great and you need an outlet? How the f.u.c.k am I supposed to stand by and watch you hurt yourself over and over when you don't need to? I'll be your outlet, your protector, your submissive, your man, but I can't be any of those things if you refuse to get past this need of yours to punish yourself in the most self-destructive manner possible because you think I'm too weak to handle you at your darkest."

She reached out to him and placed her hand on his arm, trying to pull him closer. "Wyatt, wait."

To her shock he actually pushed her away from him, hard enough that she almost fell on her a.s.s. "Don't f.u.c.king touch me right now, Mich.e.l.le. I'm not in a good place. Just give me some G.o.dd.a.m.n s.p.a.ce to cool down before I completely lose my s.h.i.t."

"Wyatt..."

He turned away and stormed off to the house, leaving her gaping at his back. A sick, deadening feeling filled her heart and she watched him take the steps two at a time up to the beach house before he went inside, slamming the door behind him. The food she'd eaten threatened to come back up, but she didn't want him to look out the window and see her throwing up. He was right, she was so incredibly self-centered and selfish. From the moment Wyatt had reentered her life she'd only thought about herself and how Wyatt affected her, not how Wyatt was feeling. Even her guilt over hurting him was selfish.

She stared up at the beach house for a long time, her thoughts scattered and disjointed as she tried to make herself see the world from Wyatt's point of view, to get into his head. She used to be so good at figuring out her submissives, easily slipping into their thoughts, but with Wyatt, she was having a hard time separating her own emotions from the equation. Guilt nearly paralyzed her and kept her stuck out on the beach, but she found the strength to walk towards the beach house, to put one foot in front of the other on the boardwalk, to face Wyatt and be there for him. This wasn't just about her, this was about both of them, and it wasn't fair to let Wyatt take on the entire burden of trying to fix her.

Cursing herself, she watched as the lights in the beach house came on and Wyatt's shadow moved past the windows. Of course his PTSD hadn't just gone away, no matter how much therapy he'd gotten while they were apart. The thought that her bulls.h.i.t was triggering an episode was more than she could bear. She vowed that next time she talked to her therapist she would really, truly try to figure out how to get past her need to self-destruct.

By the time she reached the door she'd managed to strap some steel to her spine, but when she heard Wyatt talking through the open windows she paused.

"Don't worry, Daniella, I'll see you soon enough when I get back to Chicago." He laughed and she looked through the window, seeing him leaning against the counter with his back to her. "Yeah, we need to finish it."

Her heart slammed against her ribs and she felt lightheaded as he paused and listened to what had to be the woman Wyatt promised he hadn't f.u.c.ked talking to him on the phone. The thought that he ran from a fight with her to call Daniella killed her and she bit her hand to stifle a wounded moan, at once not wanting to hear another word and needing to know everything she could before Wyatt figured out she was standing here.

"Yep, I'll take care of you and you take care of me." He paused again and shifted against the counter. "No, she doesn't know about us and I want to keep it that way. I'll tell her, but not yet. She's not ready."

His betrayal hurt so d.a.m.n bad. She was scarcely aware of moving before she'd thrown the door open hard enough that it banged against the wall. Wyatt leapt away from the counter and gave her a confused look and said into his phone, "Hey, I need to call you back."

"Why, Wyatt? Why are you leaving me for her?" She tried to keep her tears back, but she just couldn't. The pain was too great. "I've tried my hardest for you, what did I do wrong?"

"Oh, baby." He grabbed her in a hug and she tried to pull away, but he wasn't letting her go. "I'm not leaving you for Daniella. Why would you even think that?"

"I heard you. You're going to Chicago to see her." Though it broke her heart, she had to force the words out. "I want you to be ha-happy, Wyatt. Please don't stay with me out of guilt."

"I should spank your a.s.s into next week for even suggesting that." He gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. "I am going to Chicago to see her, but not because I want her as my woman. Jesus, Mich.e.l.le, have a little faith in yourself, in me. I'm trying real hard to be patient with you, but d.a.m.n, you make it hard sometimes."

He released her abruptly and she slumped against the wall and looked at him through bleary eyes.

Shaking his head, he turned his back to her. "This isn't how I wanted to show you, but you need to know what I've been doing with Daniella. I've spent a lot of time with her in Chicago, her and her fiance, but not in the way you think."

He abruptly pulled his shirt off and her world froze in place as she stared at his back, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Taking a hesitant step forward, she blinked and wiped her eyes so she could see the new, giant tattoo that covered his back. Where the faded and battered rose and other random tattoos had once been there was now an enormous back piece of a very masculine angel done in shades of blue ranging from a navy so dark it was almost black to the palest of ice blues with his wings outspread, covering Wyatt's muscular back from the top rise of his a.s.s all the way to each shoulder blade. A halo done in shades of orange, red, and gold flared around the angel's head, giving the tattoo life. She took a deep breath as she studied the incredible detail in each feather of the outspread wings. A portion of the tattoo near the bottom was still just black lines waiting to be colored in and she realized that finishing the tattoo was what Wyatt had been speaking with Daniella about. The angel's eyes were the same tones as the halo and it was, by far, one of the most magnificent pieces of art she'd ever seen.

Her voice came out hushed as she said, "It's beautiful."

"I got it for you, Mich.e.l.le. Whether you like it or not, I'm your guardian angel and I'm never going to leave you, never let you get hurt. I'll battle all your demons and fight through h.e.l.l for you, if you'll let me."

She took another step closer, tracing her fingertips over the figure, feeling the warmth of Wyatt's skin beneath the ink, the flex of his muscles as he looked over his shoulder at her. When their eyes met the frustration and love she saw in his gaze swept away all her doubts, all her bulls.h.i.t, leaving her with a remarkably clear head. She moved around to face him, drinking in his solid muscles, his magnificently broad shoulders, and the piercings in his nipples. With a feeling of almost reverence filling her she leaned forward and kissed each piercing, the first public marking he'd done to show that he belonged to her.

Then she looked up at him again, overwhelmed by how much she loved him and how much he loved her. "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me, because you're right, that's just bulls.h.i.t at this point. Sometimes I feel like you know more about me than I know about myself and I'm constantly humbled, not just by your strength, but by your ability to love me. No matter how poorly I think of myself, how undeserving I feel, you never lose faith in me. You're always there for me, no matter how much I try to push you away, always guarding me, always protecting me, even if it's from myself. So I'm not going to say I'm sorry, even though I am, but instead, I'm going to really try to be worthy of you."

"Baby, I love you so much but I'm the one who needs to be worthy of you." He cupped her face and gave her a gentle kiss. "I'm not bulls.h.i.tting when I say you're the strongest woman I've ever met, inside and out."

"You make me strong, Wyatt. You, your love, your presence, everything about you makes me feel like I'm on solid ground, like I have...someone to hold me up when I need it. Someone to brace me when things get rough." She let out a shuddering breath and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her face against his warmth. "I just wish I could do the same for you."

He gave a soft laugh. "You have no idea how much you've helped me, do you? Mich.e.l.le, if you hadn't picked me up that day from jail, you and I know I probably wouldn't be here right now. You saved me. Your love, your compa.s.sion, your kindness, and your unwavering determination kept me alive when no one else could, including myself. I've never had someone fight so hard for me. Never had someone love me as much as you do."

A tiny sense of pride burned away some of her guilt and she smiled against his skin, placing another kiss on the soft fur covering his chest. "So where do we go from here?"

"Let's take it one day at a time, for now. We both need to focus on getting on solid ground first." He tensed against her, then blew out a harsh breath. "My therapist told me if I wanted you to be honest with me I needed to be honest with you, so here it goes. Earlier, on the beach? I almost lost it and hit you."

She leaned back in his arms and looked up, seeing the shame twisting his features. "But you didn't."

"That's only because I was holding on by the skin of my teeth. When I was in Chicago I got into several fights over stupid bulls.h.i.t. Petrov finally threatened to lock me up in his dungeon if I didn't get ahold of my anger issues. I don't know what it is, though my therapist thinks it's PTSD related, but I get so f.u.c.king p.i.s.sed, and it's like I just lose my mind. I mean I literally can't think rationally about something, only letting my anger overwhelm me." His grip on her tightened and his anxiety rolled off of him in almost visible waves. "If I ever hurt you I wouldn't be able to live with myself, so if I ask you to give me s.p.a.ce, you gotta listen to me, okay?"

"Oh, Wyatt." She caressed his face then ran her hands through his hair, loving how he calmed beneath her touch. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

He sighed and gave her a brief kiss before releasing her. "I don't know about you, but I'm f.u.c.king beat."

"Wyatt?"

"Yeah?"

She almost reached out to him, but kept her hands at her side. "When will you make love to me?"

The devilish gleam in his eyes was nothing but trouble. "Why, baby? You feeling needy?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." The urge to dominate him was strong, but she knew she hadn't earned that right yet.

"Good. I want you to be needy, I want you to get wet every time you look at me. I want that beautiful p.u.s.s.y of yours sore and throbbing." He took a step closer and the heat of his body washed over her like a caress. "Now you know how I felt when you wouldn't make love to me. Sucks, doesn't it?"

She frowned up at him. "So this is payback?"

"Yep." He brushed his hands over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then began to lightly toy with her hard nipples beneath her shirt. "And paybacks are a b.i.t.c.h."

Chapter 16.

The next day, Mich.e.l.le's cell phone rang and she was surprised to see her mother's name. She'd kept in touch with her dad and heard second hand about her mom's progress in rehab, but she hadn't been able to talk to her mom yet. A shiver of apprehension stiffened her spine, and it took her a couple rings to find the courage to answer the phone.

"h.e.l.lo, mother."

"h.e.l.lo, Mich.e.l.le."

Despite the fact that this was the first time they'd talked in well over a month, she found herself strangely at a loss for words. Part of her was still so very angry at her mother for all the bulls.h.i.t she'd put Mich.e.l.le through, but no matter how p.i.s.sed she was still worried and it eased something inside of her to hear her mother's voice. And it made her happy to hear the relaxation, the strength in her mother's voice. One of the most f.u.c.ked up things about the human condition was that no matter how terribly a parent might treat their child, there is always some small, tiny part of that kid's soul that aches for love.

"How are you doing?"

"Good, very good. Better than I've been in a long, long time. Mich.e.l.le, I owe you an enormous apology."

"What?"

Her mother sighed. "I'm sorry I've been so cruel to you all these years, that I've expected you to live up to impossible standards, that I've been mentally abusive with you. I've been diagnosed with a mental illness, a personality disorder that I've had my whole life. I'm on medication for it now and it's really helping me see the world for what it is, not what my mind tells me is reality."

She sagged against the countertop. "Mom, what are you talking about?"

"I have Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder; it makes me seek perfection in everything I do, and I'm afraid I've projected it on you as well. You see, my..." Mich.e.l.le's mom cleared her throat but her words still came out thick as she said, "my mother was physically abusive with me. If I did anything wrong, if I didn't do exactly what she wanted she would beat me. My father was a traveling salesman so he didn't see the abuse, or he didn't want to see it, but it was bad. I'm not telling you this so you'll feel sorry for me, or to excuse my behavior, but so that hopefully you'll understand part of what made me the way I am."

Tears burned Mich.e.l.le's eyes as her mother's voice broke on the last word. "I had no idea."

"No one did. I hid it from everyone, including your father. I thought if I could pretend it didn't happen that I would forget about it, that it would go away. Unfortunately, that need for perfection turned into an illness with me, a need for control that warped my view of the world. I believe that I was especially hard with you because you look so much like me, Mich.e.l.le. I would see you and the need to protect you from the punishment for being imperfect would twist my thoughts. Like I was somehow saving you from my mother by making sure you never did anything wrong." She gave a watery laugh. "I was trying to protect you from a ghost, and in doing so, I was hurting you just as bad as if I used my fists. I'm so, so sorry for how horrible I was to you and I'm so very sorry that I made my love for you seem conditional. It never was. I love you no matter what."

"Mom...that's just...I had no idea."

A woman's voice sounded in the background over the phone and her mother said, "I have to go now. It's time for my evening group therapy. What I mostly wanted to tell you is that I was wrong about Wyatt. He loves you and he's a good man. He didn't deserve the terrible things I said to him, and for what it's worth, you both have my blessings. He's very, very lucky to have such a wonderful woman to love. I'm so proud of you, Mich.e.l.le and all that you've accomplished. You're an amazing woman and you deserve to be loved. I have to go. I love you, darling, and I'm so proud of you."

Her throat closed up as she whispered, "I love you too."

She stood against the counter for a long time, staring with unseeing eyes out the small window above the sink at the gra.s.sy dunes below. Her entire history with her mother had been rewritten with that conversation, and as she went through various moments in her past with a new understanding, she began to slowly change her view of herself. Maybe she wasn't as damaged as she thought. Maybe she was worthy of Wyatt's love. Her tense muscles slowly began to relax and she felt something loosening inside of her heart, a darkness lifting from her as she realized that Wyatt loved her, warts and all, that she wasn't doomed to disappoint him because she wasn't perfect.

Wyatt walked into the kitchen and stopped as soon as he saw her face. "You okay, baby?"

She held her arms open and he immediately stepped into them, cuddling her close. "I'm okay. I just got off the phone with my mom."

"How's she doing?"

"Good. I think she's good."

"Then why are you so upset? Did she say something to hurt you?"

"No, no it wasn't like that."

Still holding him, she told him about her conversation with her mother, and by the end she was crying. "I feel so bad, Wyatt. All these years I've hated her and she was sick."

"Sweetheart, you have nothing to feel bad about. What she did to you was f.u.c.ked up, but you know what? It didn't break you. No matter what bulls.h.i.t she threw at you, no matter how much she screwed with your mind, you still managed to grow up into the most amazing woman I've ever met."

She rubbed her face against his shirt, drying her tears. "I don't deserve you."

To her surprise he took her by the shoulders, hard. "Don't say that bulls.h.i.t, Mich.e.l.le. You do deserve me and I deserve you. I love you, all of you, the bad and the good. I don't love you because you're perfect, or pretend to be, I love you because of who you are, warts and all."

A surprised giggle escaped her. "Warts and all?"

"Yep." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Now, go throw some clothes on, I'm taking my girl out for some ice cream therapy."