The taste of forbidden

10. Healing a little in her. [Part 2]

Finally, Lia looks away, giving no answer, letting out a sigh that makes her chest rise and fall noticeably. The braid she had has made her hair wavy, and it's still damp. Strands stick to her face, and she lifts her hand to gently brush one away. The silence between us is heavy until it's my turn to speak.

"Let's talk about your pain…" I begin.

"f**k off."

I laugh bitterly, because of course, right?

She can cut me open, leave me raw, but when it comes to her, she locks every door.

"Yeah, I figured, Lia."

I grab the reins and steer us back home, this time with no interruptions. Not a single word is spoken on the entire ride. If she finds it strange that I’m not riding the horse with her, she says nothing. So in the end, getting back home takes an uncomfortable hour filled with tension and unspoken emotions.

When we arrive, there are several workers outside, and Rose comes out to meet us, a worried look on her face.

"Where were you?" she asks, running straight to Lia, her hands running over her arms gently. The damp state of her clothes must have alarmed her. "When Becket vanished on horseback at full speed, I figured he was looking for you. I thought something terrible had happened to you, sweetheart."

Lia looks at her in surprise; I guess Rose's sudden shift is confusing to her.

Not to me.

I’ve seen how Rose has quietly watched her; her routines, what she does, how independent she is despite her lonely situation. Earning someone’s affection is easy, but earning respect? That’s a long road. Still, that’s exactly what Lia has earned over the past month. Of course, with the exception of a couple of workers who still see her as a threat to this place.

"Come on, I’ll serve you lunch," Rose concedes after checking that we’re both unharmed.

Lia still looks confused, and even though I can see she's about to decline, Rose doesn’t give her the chance—she takes her by the arm and leads her inside.

I don’t worry about my bare torso; the workers are used to seeing me shirtless. Even if no one’s dared to say anything about my scars, it’s a small town and secrets don’t stay buried for long. I’m sure many know where my wounds came from, so I’ve never tried to hide them.

I’m ready to turn around and get back to work, certain that Lia doesn’t want me near her right now. But then she does something I know damn well I won’t be able to shake off.

While Rose gently leads her inside, Lia turns to look back, searching for my eyes. Searching for me. I don’t think she realizes it, but the need in her eyes is as clear as the sun hitting my face.

She’s asking for me.

Fuck. Goddamn it.

I run a hand over my jaw and clench my fist, struggling to do the right thing. I should turn around, walk away, stay the hell out of her life. I’m not her protector, not her refuge—she doesn’t need anything from me.

“Goddamn it, Lia Callahan,” I mutter.

Without being able to stop myself, I go after her and join her in the dining room. The look of relief on her face the moment she sees me stays with me. It’s like my mere presence brings her a bit of calm in the middle of her anxiety.

There are three workers already having lunch at the big expensive oak table. They’re loud, their laughter boisterous, and I can see it makes her withdraw.

I take the seat beside Lia, especially since she’s looking for my eyes again, and I stay silent next to her.

The workers are Joshua and two of the new hands. They keep chatting among themselves, oblivious to us, while a tense and introverted Lia leans slightly toward me, seeking my presence.

I grab a napkin and start folding it precisely, giving myself a focal point.

"Origami," she whispers very softly, just for me.

I don’t say anything, just keep folding, letting her focus on the movement of my hands as Rose brings our lunch. Soon, Lia relaxes and the tension in her body fades.

Being as sharp as she is, she quickly catches on to the vague shape forming from the napkin.

A tiny mouse.

She smiles, two small quotation marks curling the corners of her lips.

"When did you learn that?"

My large, calloused fingers look ridiculous doing such delicate work with a napkin.

"I learned before Cass was born," I recall with nostalgia. "By the six-month mark, I had her room full of different shapes. I even made her a mobile with colorful horses she used to stare at before falling asleep."

A giggle escapes her when one of the mouse’s ears falls off because the napkin is too flimsy.

Then one of the workers’ whispers reaches us loud and clear: "Is she wearing the boss’s shirt?" A mocking laugh, followed by his death sentence, "If you can’t beat the enemy, sleep with him. What a w***e, huh? Going from one brother to the other like that."

The screech of my chair as I stand silences the entire room, leaving nothing but deadly quiet.

"What did you say, you little s**t?"

He’s just a kid and new—I don’t even know his name. He can’t be older than eighteen. That’s the only thing keeping me from smashing his face in.

Still...

"Say that again…" I start, lowering my voice into a growl so threatening even I barely recognize it. "Go on, repeat it, you son of a bitch."

Even though he swallows hard and turns white as a sheet, my fury only builds, but just when I’m about to give in and at least drag him out of the house, I see Lia slipping away.

"Fire him, Joshua," I say before going after her.

She’s moving too fast, running like the little mouse she becomes in public.

"Lia, stop!" But she runs faster, reaching her cabin quickly. "Lia, you know that little s**t’s words aren’t true!"

She doesn’t listen, just climbs the small steps of her front porch and goes inside. I curse under my breath, shove manners aside, and open the door to follow her in.

At first, I don’t understand what’s happening. Her body hits me so hard and everything happens so fast that my brain takes a moment to process that she’s hugging me.

Lia is hugging me with burning intensity.

"You said it. What that kid said isn’t true," she whispers in my ear, clinging tightly to my neck. "And I couldn’t care less—we both know there’s nothing more here. But I’m your friend, you’re my family, whether you like it or not." She pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, full of kindness and tenderness. "And you wanted my comfort moments ago, right there by that lake, about to fall apart. So stop being this unshakable man who refuses to break. I’m here, Becket, and I’m going to hold you, okay?"

I blink and clench my jaw, staring at her with my arms hanging loose at my sides.

Then she gives me a small smile, and there—almost in slow motion, marking more than just my skin—a tear falls from her eye... a tear I know is falling for me.

And I give in.

I exhale the air I was holding in, letting it out in something like a growl, and wrap my arms tightly around her waist. I pull her toward me, lifting her almost onto her toes with the force of it.

Without meaning to stop myself, I bury my face in her neck, taking shelter in the warmth of her body, accepting her comfort because I have no other choice.

And even though I don’t cry, I tremble against her, a hoarse sob trapped in my throat when an image of Lucas curled up in a corner while my father beat me crashes into my memory.

I tremble harder, and she holds me just as tightly.

Our height difference could make this awkward, but the truth is, it doesn’t. Nothing about this is awkward.

Heartbreaking?

Yes, so heartbreaking that she seems to be the only thing keeping me upright.

Lia pats my back, rubbing gently up and down with a tenderness I’ve never felt before.

"Grieve him," she says in a soft whisper, "and allow yourself to grieve for yourself too… I’m here."

I hold her tighter, until I almost feel like I’m going to break her. But no, that’s impossible. Lia is too strong, so I give in and let part of my weight fall on her. I take refuge in her scent and release some of the trauma and damn pain I carry—for Lucas, for our childhood, for choices I can never undo.

I share my pain with her, letting her hold it in her body, until I feel lighter, until she cleans a bit of my soul, healing wounds that can’t be seen… healing a little in her.

[2/2]