Page 72 of Sing For Me

“Not just my hip. It’s my entire side, up to my ribs.” His face clouds in confusion. “I was burned, Will. While I was trapped under the scaffolding, the fire got too close—”

I’m waiting to see horror on his face but suddenly he’s in motion, sliding across the middle of the tub to pull me into his arms. He tucks my face into his chest, cradling me against him for a long moment, rubbing my back, whispering that he’s sorry, so sorry. That he’s glad I’m here and okay.

It feels too good, his hands on me in the warm water, even with the damn shirt in the way. I don’t want to let go but I finally pull away enough to look up at him. “I’ve had some plastic surgery, but it’s a pretty ugly scar. It could have been a lot worse, I know, but I’m still not…comfortable with it.”

He smooths the damp hair back from my face. “Thus nearly drowning in a t-shirt.”

I allow myself a small smile as I watch his face. He doesn’t look horrified by what I told him. He doesn’t look overwhelmed or ready to bolt, like my bag of issues is just too much for him to deal with. He just watches me right back with calm, understanding eyes, smoothing my hair over and over again with his big warm palms.

“You know what I think?” he finally asks.

“What’s that?”

“I think you should show me.”

I freeze all over again. “Show you?” I squeak out.

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Yeah, gorgeous. I think you have it built up in your head as this awful thing. And if you show me you’ll be able to see that nothing changes between us. Think about the weight that will lift off your shoulders then.”

The idea of not carrying this around with me anymore—the embarrassment and self-disgust—is tempting. But how can he promise it will turn out that way? How can he say for sure that nothing will change?

I bury my face against his chest again and whisper the most true fear I have when it comes to him. “I don’t want you to look at me differently.”

“Hey.” He slips a hand beneath my chin, tilting my head up so he can see me. “That’s not going to happen.”

I let out a long, shuddering breath. “I know that we’re not like, a thing. I know I screwed all that up.” He opens his mouth, maybe to argue that, but I press a finger to his soft lips so I can continue. “But I love the way you look at me, Will.”

His mouth twitches under my finger. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like…like you think I’m beautiful.”

His blue eyes flare in the dim light. “Youarebeautiful.”

I swallow. “Well, it’s been a really long time since I’ve felt like that was true. But when I’m with you…When I’m with you, I feel like I’m a normal, unbroken girl. And I really, really don’t want that to change.”

“Itwon’t.” He speaks the words like a vow, like a promise, and God, I want to believe him.

Will brings his face close to mine, fingers trailing over my cheekbones. “Let me prove that to you, Eva. Let me show you.”

My hands are shaking as I pull myself up and away from Will. He follows me until we’re both sitting on the edge of the tub, our feet dangling in the water. I take a deep, shuddering breath and pull the wet cotton from my body. He doesn’t follow the shirt with his eyes, waiting for me to give the okay.

You can do this,his steady, burning eyes seems to tell me.

He won’t be able to see all the evidence of destruction, the way it curls around my hip and side and spreads down to my upper thigh. But he’ll be able to see enough. The scar tissue from the burn on my waist, on my lower ribs. The jagged line on my hip from the surgeries where the doctors tried to rebuild the joint.

He’ll be able to see enough.

I realize that I squeezed my eyes shut while pulling off my shirt and haven’t managed to open them again. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I should just hide here in the safe, dark world behind my eyelids where I’ll never have to see disgust cross his features.

But then I hear his low exhale of breath, almost a pained sound, and my eyes fly open.

His expression steals my breath. His eyes are hungry as they sweep across my body, from my simple black bikini top down to my stomach. My sides. My scar.

“Eva,” he mumbles, his voice graveled and rough. “Jesus.”

“Will?”

His eyes finally snap up to mine and my stomach drops out at the intensity I see there. The fire.