Perfectly Broken

by Prescott Lane

  “I’m happy.” Peyton kissed him on the cheek. “You don’t have anything to feel bad about.”

  * * *

  Reed got out of the shower, dripping wet and still conflicted, the joy of her hand now a faded memory. From the bathroom, he heard Peyton’s phone ring and yelled out to her. But she didn’t respond. He waited a moment, wrapped a towel around his waist, and came out to answer. He saw her phone on the nightstand, a name flashing on the screen. He walked out of the bedroom looking for Peyton and found her in the kitchen making breakfast. She took the phone and answered but before saying another word, walked outside. Reed watched her on the back porch. After a minute, Peyton came back in and picked up an egg, as if the phone call never happened.

  “Are you sick?” Reed asked, worried.

  “No,” Peyton said, “why would you think that?”

  “Who’s Dr. Lorraine?”

  She gripped the egg in her hand, accidentally cracking the shell. “I just missed an appointment,” she said dismissively.

  “What appointment?”

  “We can talk about that later,” she said, faking a smile. “Let’s have breakfast.”

  Reed threw up his hands. “It seems you call all the shots in and out of bed.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Really? Then who the hell is Dr. Lorraine? And why can you jerk me off, but I can’t touch you?”

  Peyton took a step back, her bottom lip in full pout. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t give me the lip,” he said, putting his hands on her waist. “Talk to me.”

  “Later, please,” she said quietly.

  Reed bent down, giving her bottom lip a little suck. “After breakfast,” he said, searching her eyes. Peyton gave a slight nod before he went to get dressed.

  * * *

  Looking out towards the Gulf, Peyton curled her toes in the sand, her hands folded together as if in prayer. She felt Reed’s eyes on her from behind. He’d come out of the bedroom to find breakfast but not her. He picked up a piece of toast then walked to the patio door, watching the breeze whipping her hair.

  Peyton didn’t look back towards him or the house. She kept her eyes straight ahead to the Gulf. She knew she’d have to face him soon— to reveal herself as Dr. Lorraine wanted — but she also knew the longer she kept herself hidden, the longer things could stay the same between them. Watching each crashing wave, she knew it couldn’t last forever.

  She burned into her mind how he’d always looked at her — the desire and intensity — fearing he’d never see her the same way again. She thought back to the jolt of electricity when they touched that first day in her shop, their first kiss, dancing under the stars in Audubon Park, how disheveled he looked sitting on her porch after the Mardi Gras Ball. She now expected all of it — the good times and bad — would soon be gone. Soon she’d only have memories. That’s the way her life had always been. She wanted to make sure she didn’t forget.

  After a quick prayer, she rose to her feet and turned towards the cottage, her eyes landing on Reed sitting on the deck steps. A part of her wanted to run into his arms, to tell him everything and hope it would all work out, but another part wanted to turn and run out into the Gulf, to swim away forever, leaving her past and her fears behind. She reached for her locket and closed her eyes. Be brave.

  She walked towards him without looking up, instead watching her feet in the sand, each step heavier than the last, like she was walking to her death. She wanted to believe he could love the dark side of her, the parts that weren’t pretty and perfect, but she wasn’t sure. She remembered how he tore down the old building on the Mississippi River and built a shiny and new one. And it was obvious he preferred the latter.

  She reached the patio, her legs weak and trembling. “I need to tell you something.”

  “You can tell me anything,” he said, gently brushing her hair from her face and putting his arm around her. “Let’s talk inside.”

  Reed sat down on the sofa and offered Peyton a seat beside him. But she shook her head. She couldn’t sit. Sitting down wasn’t an option. She paced back and forth in front of him, trying to figure out where to start. Reed looked so sweet and innocent sitting before her, waiting patiently for her to begin. She wondered how much to tell him, how much he could take. Not even Quinn and Griffin knew everything. Since that night, she’d only ever told the whole story to the police and Dr. Lorraine — and they’d helped her through it. She was on her own now. She drew a deep breath and clutched her locket.

  “I’ve been seeing Dr. Lorraine for awhile,” she began, her voice shaky, then started over. “I’ve been seeing her for a few years now, since I finished college.” She stopped and looked away.

  He studied her. “OK, so? Are you sick?” She shook her head but said nothing else. “You’re scaring me,” he said, his heart starting to pound, grabbing the back of his neck. “Please don’t tell me you have cancer or something — or are dying.”

  “No,” she said, her lips in a tight line.

  Reed exhaled. “I just couldn’t handle anything horrible like that.”

  Peyton cocked her head to the side, thinking those weren’t quite the words she wanted to hear, but knowing there was no turning back now. “It is horrible, though.” She paused for a moment to gather herself, seeing Reed’s steel blue eyes weaken. “Dr. Lorraine is my therapist.”

  “Lots of people see them.” Reed sometimes wondered whether he could use some therapy given his screwed-up family.

  “She’s a trauma therapist,” Peyton said, now resigned to the fact that she was on the verge of burying her relationship with Reed, only a few days after she’d buried Gram. “Sexual trauma.”

  Reed’s eyes widened, looking into her baby blues, recognizing a familiar pain — the one he saw the moment they’d first met in her shop — now realizing the reason for it.

  “A few months before college graduation,” she said, then closed her eyes, “I was raped.” Her words hung in the air like the tightrope Reed was about to walk. And she didn’t know whether he had any desire to walk it. He doesn’t have to deal with this. Reed could get any girl he wanted. She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to see him run away, or find his intense stare replaced by pity. I know this hurts, but please stay.

  Reed gnashed his teeth, feeling he’d just been hit with a stiff right cross, trying to hold back the anger, the tears, the hate — that another man, not even a man, would ever put his hands on her, violate her, take something from her. He’d never been so enraged. He wanted to explode. He clenched his fists, wanting to run his hand through a fucking wall. He had a mind to run out of the cottage and find him, probably hiding in a filthy hole somewhere, and drag him out by the hair then pummel him and slice his nuts off, taking great pleasure in watching the blood pour out from the empty sack and the rest of his body — drip, drip, drip — before hurling the lifeless corpse into the Mississippi River or the Gulf or the nearest ditch, whichever was fucking more convenient.

  But exploding right now wouldn’t be helpful. He needed to control himself, to calm himself, to hide his rage. Peyton needed him to stay focused on her — her story — even if he had to fake it. He felt the urge to touch her, to hold her, to protect her, as much for Peyton as himself. He stood up and slid his arms around her waist, lowering his forehead onto hers, trying to steady his breathing.

  Then he raised his head. “Look at me,” he said, needing to see her eyes. Peyton opened them as he asked but kept her head down. Her eyes began to water, as he tilted up her chin. “Thank you for telling me. I know it took a lot for you to trust me.”

  Her breath caught, finding the same fire, the same passion in his eyes, without a trace of pity. A tear fell down her cheek — a tear of relief.

  Reed kissed away her tear. “Do you want to tell me more?”

  “Not now. Dr. Lorraine offered to speak with us or you alone, if you had any questions.”

  “I’ll do that with you,” he said quickly.

  P
eyton released their embrace. “You really should think about what you’re saying, what you’re getting into.”

  “I don’t need to think about it.”

  “No, you should really think about it.” Peyton paused. “That palm reader was right — a part of me is broken.”

  Reed waved her off. “I don’t believe any shit that ugly bitch said.”

  “I do,” she said softly. “I am broken.”

  “No, the bastard who did that to you is broken!”

  “You don’t understand. You can’t understand,” she said, her voice breaking and rising. “I’m never going to be whole again. He broke me that night. And I’m scared I’ll never be enough for you!”

  Reed cupped her cheeks in his hands and looked firmly in her eyes. “It hurts me to hear you talk like that. You’re enough for me. You’re everything to me. You’re all I need.”

  “Just know that I’m giving you an out, OK?” Peyton melted into his chest and held her breath. “No hard feelings. I’d understand.”

  “Why do you keep saying that? Guys have left you because of this?”

  Peyton gathered herself before responding. “There haven’t been any other guys.”

  “What?” Reed cried, picking himself up from the floor. “You said it happened in college, like four years ago?”

  Peyton gave a tiny shrug. “I haven’t really dated since then. A few set-ups or going out as a group, but no one serious. I’m pretty good at brushing guys off.” She slipped a sweet smile through her tears. “Until you.”

  “You’re not getting rid of me, either. As far as I’m concerned, this doesn’t change anything.” Reed held her for a few minutes, his mind racing. “Who was it? A boyfriend?” Who do I have to kill?

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “It was dark, and ....” Her voice trailed off. There was so much left to tell. She didn’t have the energy now — and didn’t want to overwhelm Reed, either. “Look, I know you must have a thousand questions, and I promise to answer them all. But I need a little time.” Peyton was unsure what to do next. There was no instruction manual on what to do after telling a boyfriend about a rape.

  “Let’s get you in the tub to relax.” Reed led her to the bathroom and ran the bath water, adding in some bubble bath. He told her he’d grab some clothes from her bedroom, though truthfully just needed some space.

  Just when he thought he had things under control and had Peyton all figured out, there suddenly was so much he didn’t know. And he didn’t have a manual, either. His body tense, he felt ready to burst, so many questions rattling in his head. She said she didn’t know who it was. He wondered how that was possible, whether there were ever any leads, whether she reported it to the police, how badly she was hurt, where it all happened, and how it could be possible — no matter the circumstances — not to have sex in four long years. He told himself it was fine if she didn’t tell him everything, holding back certain details, keeping a part of herself hidden. Indeed, there was more about him, his family, that Peyton didn’t know. And he certainly couldn’t tell her now — not after what she’d just told him. She’d been through enough. It would be too much for her to bear.

  He rifled through her suitcase, finding a pair of pajamas and pale pink lace panties nestled amongst a “Shame on You” kit. He held it in his hand and let out a smile, now liking Quinn just a little bit more. He put it back in the suitcase and hid it underneath her clothes. Then he walked back to the bathroom, finding Peyton in the tub. He knew he should look away but couldn’t help but take a quick peek — though the bubbles, sadly, were covering up all the good parts. He placed the clothes on the vanity and turned to leave. “Call me if you need anything else.”

  “Reed,” she said sweetly.

  “Yes?” he asked, turning around.

  “I need you.”

  He smiled. “I need you, too. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “That’s nice,” she said and sat up slightly, bubbles cascading off her breasts. “But I need you in here.”

  Reed quickly took off his shirt, feeling like an idiot she had to repeat herself. But he wasn’t about to feel sorry for himself or protest her request, even though Peyton’s changes of direction were causing some whiplash. She just told him she was raped and he could end things, and now she was telling him to take a bath with her, when he’d never even seen her bottom half. This couldn’t possibly be in the instruction manual. He tossed his shirt on the floor, and Peyton took him in, his broad shoulders, chiseled abs, blue eyes. She locked her eyes on his, as he stepped out of his shorts and boxer briefs.

  He slipped into the tub behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as the warm water covered their bodies. Peyton released a deep breath. He grabbed some bath wash and rubbed his hands together, warming it, then washed her back and neck, massaging away the tension in her muscles. She relaxed her body into him, every stroke of his hands against her skin so warm, comforting, healing her mind and body. He caressed her arms before Peyton took his hands and brought them to her face, examining them, palms up and down, kissing each side. Reed grinned, unsure of the fascination.

  She squirted more bath wash in his palms then placed his hands on her breasts, feeling Reed harden against her. He tenderly massaged her, the silky soap and warm water sliding through his hands, tickling her nipples with his thumb and forefinger. She purred, a delicious ache building between her legs. He trailed kisses along her neck, his slight stubble brushing against her, increasing the delicious ache. She wiggled her bottom to find some relief, but it didn’t help, only finding his hard dick rubbing up against her.

  He took her hands and slid his palms on top of her hands to let her massage them with him. She watched their hands moving together, intertwined and lathered. Peyton then pushed his hands slightly lower onto her flat stomach. He felt her slightly wiggle against him before she took his hand in hers, drifting it lower, and lower still, until it landed between her legs. At first touch, she moaned and felt him grow harder.

  Reed kept his hand still, with Peyton taking the lead, figuring this was maybe her way of regaining some control of her body. And he was perfectly fine with that, to wait for direction, to let her be in charge. She pushed herself against his hand, and he stroked her gently then massaged her inner thighs — such an erotic area, one often overlooked by clueless men in a hurry. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, releasing a little purring sound, then he slid a finger inside, feeling her warmth, her tightness, seeing her arch her back, her breasts rising out of the water.

  He kept a finger deep in her while rubbing her breast with his hand. He began to slide in and out, slowly at first, then faster. He watched her move with him, keeping with his pace, her breasts moving up and down, faster and faster, her body writhing up and down, the water making a lapping sound. She felt herself getting close. And Reed could tell she was almost there — his dick, so full and hard, rubbing up against her, urging her on. She tightened around his finger then gripped the tub’s edge with her hands, curling her fingers around it, before exploding in full ecstasy.

  Peyton gasped for breath and loosened her grip, delighting in the pleasure Reed had given her. She slowly turned around to face him, and he lunged at her, sucking her nipples, tugging at her body, grabbing her ass, water splashing onto the floor. She reached for his dick and took him in her hand, stroking him up and down. He positioned himself over her and pushed his hips against hers. She pumped up and down, rubbing herself against him. She wanted him — all of him — to erase the bad memories, to replace them once and for all by slipping him inside.

  But something told her not to. She couldn’t. She was afraid to do it. Still, she felt herself on the verge again and pumped herself harder against him, though not wanting to finish by herself.

  Reed shot up his head, and his eyes burned into hers. He wanted to be in her. He pushed harder himself, hoping she’d slip him inside, trying to keep up with her, grabbing her ass hard. He’d finished just a few hours ago,
but her hand stroking him up and down, with her body rubbing up against him, so soft, smooth, and sexy, sent him over the edge once again. He groaned and shot out onto her stomach.

  Gasping for air, he dropped his head to her shoulder then nibbled on her breasts before sucking hard. She arched her back, and he slipped a finger inside, finishing her again, as she called to a higher power. With what little water was left, they stayed in the tub for a few minutes, Reed resting his head on her firm breasts while she played with his hair.

  “You are so damn sexy, it hurts,” he said then stepped out of the tub, offering his hand to help her out.

  She shook her head. “Turn around.”

  Reed chuckled. “Now you’re shy?”

  Peyton shrugged her shoulders. “I’m modest.” She waved a finger at him. “Turn around.” Reed obeyed and turned towards the mirror, tilting his head to admire her dripping wet body as she got out. “No peeking.” She wrapped herself in a towel.

  Reed quickly turned around and captured her in his arms, loving the contrasts in her — how she could be so sexy and responsive yet so shy and modest, how she could be so strong yet so fragile, how she could make his heart melt and dick harden with just one smile.

  “I love you,” he blurted out.

  Peyton stopped in her tracks and stared at him. Reed suddenly wished he hadn’t said it. He didn’t mean to say it — at least not now. It wasn’t in the manual. It just came out. He couldn’t put it back in. He worried she didn’t believe him or maybe didn’t feel the same way. He shouldn’t have said anything. Things were going well enough, and he’d just ruined it. He searched her eyes — and his mind for something else to say. Her silence was killing him. “That’s another first for me. I’ve never said that to any woman before.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Peyton.” He lowered his head. “I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you for days.”

  She lifted his chin and smiled. “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  With Reed beside her, Peyton sat on the back patio, the wind in her hair, a blanket around her shoulders. “I know you have questions,” she said. “It might just be easier if I tell you what happened.”