Chapter 26

TWENTY-SIX

It took seven days for me to resume my work on the garden box and another seven to step back into Micah's bedroom. We both moved into the room I'd stayed in when I first came to live with Micah, keeping the door shut on his until we were ready.

I simply couldn't face the evidence of what Maddox had done to our home and the space I'd shared with Micah. I didn't assess the damage until after the police searched our house, and I'd returned from the hospital that night with bruised ribs and fifteen stitches on my right cheek to find broken furniture and picture frames scattered around the house. I'd stood in the doorway of Micah's bedroom, unwilling to step inside, afraid I'd have to relive the physical and emotional trauma caused by my ex. Shattered glass was sprinkled across the floor in front of the broken mirror, with blood splattered amongst the shards. I couldn't face it even after the cleaning crew came in and replaced everything.

But it's been nearly a month since the incident with Maddox now, and I've never felt freer than I do.

I'm bent over the edge of the garden box, trimming a few of the flowers I planted the week after the terrible rainstorm that flooded the garden. I had to start from scratch and remove all the seeds I'd planted before, but something about completely gutting it and starting anew sparks joy in my heart. Joy I almost lost the night Maddox tried to ruin my life.

My hands are covered in dirt as I place the last handful of soil around the pink flowers in the far corner. My knees are pressed into the cold ground when I glance over my shoulder and look up at Micah's bedroom window. He's standing in front of it, watching himself get dressed in the new full-length mirror he bought. Although we haven't been sleeping in his bedroom, he still keeps all of his clothes in his closet. Today is his first day back to work, and I smile, watching him take pride in his appearance.

Sweat sticks to the back of my neck despite the cool early fall weather settling in. We're in the strange period where there's a thirty-degree swing between morning and afternoon. I've shoved the sleeves of my shirt up my arms to allow the warm sun to beat down on my skin.

Once I'm finished with the garden box, I take a few seconds to admire my work before heading upstairs to shower.

After washing away all the dirt and sweat in the spare bathroom, I wrap a towel around my chest and tiptoe down the hallway to my bedroom, only to stop as I pass Micah's room. He isn't standing in front of the mirror any longer, and the scent of coffee permeates the house.

I pause in front of the doorway and peek in. My chest stills and I shove the memories of that night away. The room is drastically different than it was before. The curtains are pulled back, allowing the warm sun to pour into the room. The old mirror has been replaced with a more modern one with a thin, black frame, untouched and free of damage. It has no story to tell.

I step inside Micah's bedroom, the floor creaking underfoot. Slowly, I cross the room and walk toward the mirror. The moment I see my foot in the reflection, I come to a screeching halt. My breath catches in my throat, and I'm overcome with emotion.

Up until the night Maddox cut my face I hadn't looked in the mirror. I never even looked in one after having my stitches removed. The doctor told me there would be a faint scar, and I knew Maddox had accomplished what he set out to do.

Ruin my career.

He saw it as payback for standing up for myself and having the power to walk away from him.

Facing myself meant facing the truth. There were no masks for me to hide behind anymore. I knew if I were to see the woman I'd become, I wouldn't recognize her, and the thought of facing the new me was a terrifying notion—one I still haven't felt strong enough to deal with.

But something about the way the sun shines a light on the bed Micah and I sleep in and the reflection in the mirror being new gives me the courage to keep going. I think back to the pink flowers flourishing in the garden, like the one tattooed across my ribs.

Rebirth.

I close the remaining gap between the mirror and me. My breath catches when I see myself for the first time.

My hair is longer than I remember it being, and my eyes shimmer in the sunlight. The cut I'd felt on my bottom lip has disappeared. The bruises painted over my collarbones have faded to a faint yellow hue.

When my eyes drop to the scar on my right cheek, tears immediately prick the backs of my eyes. My chin trembles, seeing the three-inch scar stretching at the perfect angle from my ear to my mouth.

I lift my hand and ghost it along the raised skin.

Maddox got what he wanted. There's no way I'll ever be able to model again. Not if this scar remains. But as my fingers trace the mark, and tears spill over my lashes, I realize he wanted more than for me to lose my career. He wanted to leave a lasting impression. He wanted me to look in the mirror and think of him every time I see myself.

He wanted me to never forget.

Even now, as he waits in jail for his trial to begin.

Unsteady, my fingers tremble across my skin, and I feel myself caving in. My vision turns watery and more tears stream down my cheek. Inhaling a sharp breath, my eyes dart up, catching Micah standing behind me.

"Hey," he whispers, touching the back of my arm.

I blink and sniff, clutching onto the towel wrapped around my chest. "I don't know why I came in here." I look at him once more before stepping away.

He stops me, his hand gently wrapping around my arm. I spin around to face him, with my chest pressed against him. He's dressed in his signature blue suit, with a pale blue shirt. His blue tie hangs loose around his neck, undone.

"Wait," he whispers, tracing his fingers along the length of my face. "Can I ask you something?"

I tuck in my bottom lip and bite down, unsure what he's going to ask. I'm glad I was able to finally face my own reflection, but overlooking the scar that now serves as a constant reminder of the past is proving difficult to bear.

When I look up, though, all my worries fade the second I meet those same kind, blue-gray eyes I've fallen in love with.

"Yes," I whisper back.

"When you were looking at yourself, what did you see?"

"Micah." I drop my gaze, clutching onto my towel tighter.

I can't answer him. I can't put into words how I feel. At my core, I know I love myself and the way Micah makes me feel. He never makes me feel less than. He never puts me down, constantly reminding me how beautiful I am. But a piece of something buried deep in my chest is fractured by pain, loss, and tragedy, and that pain may never completely disappear. It will forever live in me, attaching itself to me, becoming a part of me.

"Can I tell you what I see?" he asks.

My lips part and I look into Micah's eyes as he places his hands on my shoulders and slowly turns me around, back to my reflection. He towers over me, my head meeting his chest. My body shivers, and goosebumps dance across my skin when he reaches in front of me, unraveling my towel.

It slips from my body, pooling at my feet.

The ends of my hair are still wet from the shower, drops of water sliding down my bare chest. The cool air pumping into the room breezes over my nipples, hardening them into two pebbles. Anticipation bubbles inside me, bringing my body back to life. It's as if I'm suddenly being awakened.

He leans forward until his face is next to mine. I watch as he presses his mouth to my collarbone. I splay my palms flat on my stomach, telling myself to remain calm. I don't want this moment to end with Micah.

There are times where I still can't believe this is real. At one point, he was completely off limits and unattainable. Now, here we are.

With his mouth hovering in front of the hollow of my ear, he stares at me through our reflection.

"I see a woman," he whispers, the stubble on his jaw grating against me.

Heat pools in my stomach, replacing the fluttering. The tears are still coming, but they're coming from a different place. Instead of sadness and agony, I'm healing.

"I see a woman," he continues. "A woman who has survived and fought. A woman who's always known who she was and who she wants to be."

"Micah…" My eyelids flutter, and my head falls back against his chest. I feel weightless, his words hitting deep in my soul.

He catches me, dragging the back of his index finger along my shoulder. I feel my body inflate, and I struggle to breathe. The oxygen feels tight in my chest, and I keep my eyes open, wanting to watch Micah.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Adeline." While he draws invisible lines down the length of my arm, he takes his other hand and traces the scar on my cheek. A tear rolls over my lashes and onto the scar. "It isn't just what's on the outside. It's your soul. You aren't simply measured by your outer beauty, Addy." He slips his fingers over my nipple before cupping my breast in his palm. "Although it definitely can't be ignored."

A smile tugs on my mouth.

His whispers send a shiver down my spine. "You are the most stunning woman, and some days I wake up next to you still not believing you are mine. Mine . Every beautiful inch."

He traces the scar once more before wrapping his hand gently around my neck. He angles my face up, but I keep my eyes trained on my reflection.

The way we're standing here together reminds me of the way Maddox held me hostage that night. I felt helpless and terrified then. But this is different. With Micah, I'm safe. He's commanding yet gentle, never letting me feel as if I'm not in control. He's showing me that I don't have to live in the darkness or run from it. I can tackle it and switch the narrative. He's giving me the gift of a new memory—one where I see the beauty in the woman I've become.

"This is what I see." His voice is velvet, coating every inch of me.

He keeps his hand around my throat and catches my breath with his mouth to kiss me before pulling away.

"Do you see it, too?" he asks. His eyes have darkened, set on a mission. He keeps his hand around my neck and removes his other from my breast to trail his fingers down the center of my stomach before settling them between my thighs. Parting my slits with his fingers, he finds my clit.

I jerk my hips back, rolling into the pressure, and I gasp as his fingers work me. His cock presses into the small of my back, and I'm suddenly begging to have him inside me.

"Watch yourself," he says. "I want you to watch and see how beautiful you are. Do you see it?"

"Micah," I say tightly. "Please. I want you."

"I want to hear you say it first." He rolls his hips into me, and I know he won't hold back for long. "Heartache isn't always pretty." He growls in my ear.

His words are an arrow straight to my heart. A jolt of electricity courses through my veins, and my entire body lights up. I stand on my tiptoes, reaching behind me to grip onto his shirt, my mouth falling open.

"Tell me you see what I see."

"I do," I tell him, and as I watch his hand working me, I know I mean it. I do see beauty in myself. And he's right.

Heartache isn't always pretty.

"Life is only ugly when you ignore the beauty," he says. "And you, Adeline…" He presses his mouth to my ear, biting on my lobe. "You are beauty."

His teeth graze my skin, and I feel myself reaching my orgasm. I moan as tingles spread across my lower stomach and between my legs. His fingers move faster, pressing harder against my clit. I roll my hips, lowering my feet, pushing into him.

My orgasm crashes into me, and I cry out, the feeling vibrating across my entire body. Watching myself orgasm in the mirror gives me a feeling I have yet to experience. I catch Micah's fiery gaze in the reflection.

I'm still working to catch my breath, riding out my orgasm on Micah's fingers, when he pulls them from between my legs and spins me around to wrap his hands around the back of my thighs and lift me up. My legs curl around his waist, and he carries me over to his bed.

I feel as if my life has come full circle when his knees hit the bed and he falls back. I land on top of him, looking down at his face. My wet pussy is pressed against his crisp button-down shirt.

I know today is a big day for him, but I don't know when he's supposed to be at work or if he's going to be late. All I care about right now is that he's here with me, showing me there is beauty in the pain. That this life may not be perfect, but none of it matters. All that does matter is that I'm happy and whole.

I slip the tie out from under his collar and drape it around my own neck. The silky fabric ghosts along my breasts, perking my nipples back up.

My body is still humming from my orgasm, but the need to have Micah inside me is still strong. I unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before effortlessly slipping his hardened cock inside me, and once I've lowered myself all the way down, I stop to allow my body to adjust to him. Our eyes meet, and my heart explodes, the heat in my stomach expanding.

Lifting myself up, I lower myself back down; his eyes watch me in fascination. I've never felt more beautiful. More seen.

My entire body ignites feeling his length slide against my insides. I clench around him, reaching my orgasm faster than expected. He does the same, gripping onto my thighs and matching me thrust for thrust. He never once breaks eye contact, and that's when it hits me.

Just as much as Micah has saved me, I've saved him. The love pouring out of him nearly takes my breath away.

He tenses as his cum spills inside me, and even after we've both caught our breath, I stay on top of him and lean forward, hovering my mouth over his.

"I love you, Micah Harding." I press my lips to his, knowing I'll never be able to say it enough.

You can't quantify a love like ours. One that's withstood secrets and truths, pain and tragedy.

"I love you," I repeat. "Now and forevermore."