“Th-th-th-thank you.”
His eyes are empty; he looks so . . . sad.
He nods and turns, walking back to the door. When he reaches it, he stares over his shoulder at me. He hesitates for a moment, his face tight with emotion. He wants to say something, but he’s clearly debating whether it’s worth it. With a deep, defeated sigh he finally speaks.
“I had . . . I had no idea that you had such a hard life,” he murmurs. “It’s hard to tell when you’re so put together, so brave. I envy your strength. It’s something I lack.”
My eyes fill with tears and for a while he stares at them. Then, without any words, he turns and walks out.
Breaking my heart all over again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dimitri
My chest hurts.
It fucking hurts.
It feels like someone has reached in and torn my heart into a thousand tiny pieces. Everything up until this exact moment in my life is now a blurred mess. I thought I was the way I am because of the incidents that happened in my life. Then I found out about her. She’s had an equally hard life, yet she’s so focused on fixing things, so focused on making herself a good person.
Where did I lose that?
Revenge is all I’ve breathed for the past ten years. Now she’s making me question my sanity. She’s making me question everything I am. I’ve never, not for one second, questioned if I was doing the right thing. In my mind, it was and is the right thing. People who cause other people pain and suffering should have the same in return.
I grip the side of the ship, panting. Is it weakness? Is that why I’ve not turned out the way she did? Am I too consumed with myself to see beyond that? I envy her; my entire body aches with it. She’s managed to pull herself out of a situation and create inner peace for herself. She’s given herself the one thing I’ve been searching for, for as long as I’ve breathed.
Peace.
Never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever think one woman would change everything I’ve worked so hard for within the space of ten minutes.
Where the fuck do I go from here?
Jess
I step up onto the deck and I see him, standing in the corner, gripping the railings so hard his fingers look like they’re straining. I take a step toward him, not fully understanding why I’m even here. He’s cruel, and awful, and . . . shit . . . he’s broken. If anyone understands broken, it’s me. I walk over quietly. He’s hanging his head, his long, thick hair falling over his face.
My heart breaks a little more for him.
I reach out when I get to him, and with trembling fingers I put my hand on his shoulder. Everything moves quickly after that. He spins around so fast I’m sent stumbling back until I land on my backside. I cry out as a sharp pain shoots up my spine. I forget the pain in an instant, though, when I lay my eyes on Dimitri. His fist is raised, but it’s not in anger. He’s . . . oh God . . .
He’s scared.
The minute he realizes what he’s done, his fist lowers and his face goes back to that mask he wears so well. But it’s too late. I saw it. I saw the fear in his eyes. For a brief second, he thought I was someone else and when I laid my hand on him, it did something to him. He was frightened. Whatever happened to Dimitri, it was bad. It was bad enough that he can’t stand to be touched, and it’s not out of repulsion or memories, it’s out of pure fear.
It hurts him in the depths of his soul to be touched without permission.
“I . . .” he begins, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, putting my hands down by my sides and pushing myself up. I get to my feet, but I keep a good distance between us.
“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”
We stare, so much passing between us.
“How did you do it?”
I shake my head, confused. “Do what?”
“Move past the hatred.”
I smile, but it’s pathetic and weak. “I didn’t move past it, Dimitri. I just learned how to keep it from consuming me.”
He drops his eyes and then turns and stares back at the ocean.
“I can’t do that.”
“Because you don’t believe you can.”
His body stiffens and he turns. “I’m tired. We’re docking tomorrow at an island. I suggest you get rest.”
Then he turns and leaves me.
Is the thought of facing all of this really that hard for him?
Oh.
Wow.
The island we’re on is stunning. No, that doesn’t even cover it. I’ve been on a few islands with Hendrix but this one . . . it outdoes them all. The sand isn’t yellow, it’s white. A fine, soft white that almost hurts your eyes to look at if the sun is facing in the right direction. The waves crashing against it are a crystal clear blue, so much so I can see everything that’s beneath the water.
The trees are tall and green, surrounded by tiny shrubs that seem to be hugging each of them. There’s a long, thin stream running from one end of the island to the other. I know, because I went for a walk the moment we got here. On the far-east end, there are some massive cliffs. I’m not about to go near them alone.
We’ve set up camp in a small clearing, using the trees to pitch our tents. It’s getting to be quite cool of an evening, so we need shelter more than anything. Of course, we have the ship if all else fails, though I imagine, like me, nobody wants to be on the ship when they’ve got this paradise to be on. It’s places like these that stop us from going crazy after weeks out on the water.