Aligned: Volume 3 (9 page)

I spent the trip planning. Trying to come up with anything I could do to mend this relationship. To get her to trust me again. To love me again. She’s barely talked to me since I told her she was raped. I don’t blame her, but I need to find happy memories to share with her.
 

First, though, we need to get through tonight. Curt pulls up outside our apartment building. Relief fills me at the sight of our home. Everything will be better now.
 

“Wake up, Alexa,” I say, shaking her body softly. She immediately stirs.
 

We both exit the SUV without a word. Curt grabs our bags and holds the door to our apartment building. We walk in and take the elevator to the top floor. To our home. When we get to the door, Curt unlocks the door and places our bags inside.
 

“James and Nick already searched the place to make sure it’s secure. I’ll stand guard outside, but you’re safe,” Curt says leaving us alone in the entryway.
 

I take a deep breath relaxing as I look around the apartment that hasn’t changed since we left. I walk to the living room that still looks like it’s straight out of a designer magazine. An engagement picture of Alexa and I sit next to the TV. I pick it up and look at how happy we were together. We got married a few months later, but we never got the pictures back from the wedding. The attack and kidnapping happened that night. Destroying our wedding. We never went on a honeymoon. We will have to remedy that at some point, but not now. Now, I just want to get back to our regular life.
 

I walk to the kitchen just past the living room. I glance out the large windows overlooking the city. It’s a beautiful spring day.
 

I walk back to the living room to the open stairs leading to our bedroom. Alexa just stares at me from the living room.
 

“Come on,” I shout as I jog up the stairs. It feels good to be moving instead of stuck in bed or held by a physical therapist afraid I’ll fall. I reach the top floor of our apartment that holds our bedroom and bathroom, but that’s not what I care about. I care about the large balcony that juts out from our bedroom. I slide the door open and immediately breathe in the pleasant summer air.
 

I lean against the balcony railing overlooking the city. Alexa joins me standing quietly next to me. I feel at home for the first time.
 

“It’s beautiful out here,” Alexa says.
 

I smile. “It is. It’s our favorite place in the apartment. It’s the reason we bought this apartment. For this right here.”
 

She smiles back. “I can see why. I could easily fall in love with this spot again.” Her eyes meet mine when she says the words. Her eyes say so much more. That she could easily fall in love with me again if I helped her find a way.
I will,
I promise with my eyes. I will.

I have to find my own evidence.
 

“Let’s go to bed,” Ethan says getting up from the couch on the balcony overlooking the NYC skyline as lights sparkle beneath the dark sky.
 

I nod and get up from my chair opposite him. We haven’t said much since we came out on this balcony. Instead, we opted just to enjoy the warm breeze. We ordered pizza for dinner, and other than that, we haven’t left this spot. Both of us hoping that if we stayed out here long enough, this peaceful spot would bring us back together. Unfortunately, this place isn’t that magical. All it brought us is a sense of peace.
 

Ethan heads straight to the bathroom, and I head to my bag sitting on the floor next to the bed. I dig through my bag trying to find something suitable to change into. All I brought to sleep in is corsets, lace bras, and fancy underwear. Things I was expecting Landon to see, not Ethan. I’m not ready or brave enough to wear this type of clothing in front of a complete stranger, even though I’m married to him.
 

I stand and walk over to the white dresser sitting on the far side of the room next to the door to the bathroom. I open the top drawer to find more fancy underwear. I immediately close it. I try the next drawer, but I find nothing but socks. I try again with the third drawer and am rewarded with shorts. Mostly running shorts, but they will do. I grab a pair and head to the closet, remembering which closet is mine from when I picked out some clothes to take with me to LA. I step inside the large closet overflowing with fancy dresses and business attire. I search through the piles of clothes hoping I didn’t take all of the casual clothes with me to LA. When my hand touches soft cotton, I relax. I grab my shorts and a t-shirt and head to the bed to wait for Ethan to finish in the bathroom.
 

I sit down on the edge of the bed. My hands are trembling a little holding the clothes against my legs. I don’t know what Ethan expects tonight. Sex is the obvious answer after not being with his wife for six months. After being held captive, tortured, and thinking he was going to die, sex would be very life affirming, but I don’t know if I can do that. I stare at the large rings on my left hand. I’ve made a commitment to try my best to love Ethan again, to remember him. But Landon is still there in the back of my mind. He’s still in my heart, even though he shouldn’t be. He never loved me. It was always about sex with him. There is no reason I shouldn’t have sex with Ethan tonight, but something is holding me back.
 

The door creaks open and Ethan emerges from the bathroom shirtless. His ripped muscles flex and bend as he walks out. His body looks much like mine. Bruised, broken, and scarred. I stand and walk to him, drawn to the scars covering his heart. I reach my hand to touch the scars on his chest before I realize what I’m doing. My hand freezes less than an inch from his chest.
 

“It’s okay. You can touch me,” he says, grinning.
 

I don’t grin back, but I do touch his chest. Fresh bruises and scars cover his chest. I run my hands over each scar lightly with my fingertip as his breathing becomes more and more erratic. I feel his pain every time I touch a new scar. I can see on his face that he remembers how each spot was inflicted. I trace down his arms to his wrists. His wrists are the worst, showing how hard he struggled against the ropes that held him prisoner. I kiss each wrist softly. He lets out a small gasp at the unexpected touch.
 

It makes me feel good to see him relax just a little when I kiss him, so I keep going. I kiss my way up his arm. He rewards each kiss with a gasp or small groan. I make it to his chest and continue kissing every bruise and scar. They all seem so fresh. I haven’t found any that have healed as mine have from six months ago. He must be a good healer. I kiss the large scar on his chest when he loses whatever control was holding him in place keeping him from moving.
 

He grabs my face and traps my lips beneath his kissing me passionately.
 

“God, I’ve missed you, Alexa,” he says between kisses. My hands go to his neck almost on autopilot. My tongue responds to his, liking the pleasure filling my mouth. He grabs my ass and pushes us back until we hit the bed. He lowers my body gently onto the bed before climbing on top of me until our bodies are pressed together. His lips immediately find mine again, and I try to lose myself in the kiss as his hands start exploring my body and touching areas I’m not ready for him to touch yet.
 

“Moan for me, Alexa. Show me how much you are enjoying this,” Ethan says.
 

When he kisses me again, I try my best to moan, to please him, but I’m afraid it comes out more pained than I would like.
 

“Fuck, I want you, Alexa,” he moans as he moves his kisses to my neck.
 

I close my eyes trying to keep myself calm.
I can do this. I want this.
I grab the nape of his neck pulling his head back to my lips, something I enjoy and can focus on. I focus on his taste. The spearmint toothpaste fresh on his tongue. I feel him grabbing the fabric of my dress and hiking it up to touch my skin beneath it.
 

He rips off my clothes. I can’t stop him. I try to scream, but nothing comes out as he sits on my chest preventing air from moving in or out. I’m going to die.

“Alexa, stop it! What are you doing?” Ethan says holding my wrists above my head. I open my eyes and realize the image is gone. A stranger isn’t trying to rape me. Ethan is just trying to have sex with me, but my body registers it as the same thing. It
is
practically the same thing for me.
 

“Let go,” I say a little too harsh as I try to break free from his grasp.
 

“Why were you hitting me and screaming? What is going on, Alexa?” he asks still holding onto my wrists firmly above my head.
 

“I had a panic attack. I’ve had them a lot since the attack. Let me go and I’ll tell you the rest,” I angrily spit out the words at him.
 

Ethan reluctantly releases my hands and sits beside me. I sit up and rub my wrists, but when I look at Ethan’s wrists, I stop. His arms are shaking slightly and I realize that he probably has plenty of anxiety and emotional trauma of his own that I brought back when I started hitting him.
 

I soften my voice when I speak. “I have had several panic attacks since the accident. They are always of one of two events that I have some memories of. The accident or the rape. I wasn’t sure if they were real, but now, I know they both are.”
 

His arms stop shaking so badly, but he doesn’t speak.
 

“I’m sorry if I brought up anxiety or a panic attack of your own when I started hitting you.”
 

“You didn’t.” His eyes dart away from mine. “I just thought you hated me.”
 

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t remember you. It will just take some time to get used to you again. When Land ...” I let my sentence trail off. I almost told Ethan about Landon and I. Shit.
 

“When what?” Ethan asks.
 

“Nothing.” I stand from the bed not ready for more conversation. “I’m sure the panic attacks will get better. It will just take some time. I’m going to go change and get ready for bed.” I hurry into the bathroom grabbing my clothes off the floor as I go without looking back at Ethan.
 

Once in the bathroom, I sigh in relief. I change out of my dress and into the shorts and t-shirt as my heartbeat slows back to normal. Shit, that was a disaster. A big fucking disaster. Are either of us ever going to get past our demons?
 

I move to the sink and splash some water on my face. I notice the pink toothbrush sitting next the blue one. Toothbrushes that have been untouched for six months. I touch the hard bristles. How simple was our life back then? We had everything going for us. Were we happy living a simple life? Or were we one of those couples who fought incessantly and passionately but made love in the same way? Did we want kids? Or were we happy just living as the two of us? All I have to do is find out the answer to those and so many other questions.
 

I open the cabinet next to the sink and find a new pink toothbrush to replace the old one in the stand. I brush my teeth quickly and then throw the old brush in the trashcan. I feel much calmer as I open the bathroom door that leads back to our bedroom. Ethan has already climbed into bed. His bare chest visible above the covers. I walk over and take a seat on the opposite side of the bed. I debate taking my prosthetic leg off or leaving it on. I’m supposed to take it off every night. It gives my skin time to breathe and it feels so much better, but I feel vulnerable without it. If I need to make a quick escape, I have to put it on first.
 

I begin taking it off using my body to block Ethan’s view of my leg. He doesn’t need to see how disgusting I look yet. I place the prosthetic next to the bed and climb in. I hope as I do that he didn’t catch a glimpse of my disfigurement. If he sees, he doesn’t comment on it. There are so many discussions for us to have. So many things running through my head.
 

“What are you thinking about?” Ethan asks as I lean back against the pillow next to him, careful that our bodies don’t touch, which is easy in this king-size bed.
 

“There is just so much to talk about. So many questions that I need answered.”
 

“Then ask them.”
 

“It will take years to answer all of the questions I have.”
 

“Then ask me one question a night for the rest of your life if you need.”
 

I nod. “One question a night sounds good.” Although it seems like torture to only ask one question a night, maybe it’s for the best so I stop focusing on my past and start focusing on the future.
 

“So what will it be?”
 

I think over all of the questions floating around in my head. What happened with the rape? How did we fall in love? Where did we get engaged? Married? Why was I living on the streets? What do all my tattoos mean? Does he like them?
 

Instead, I end up blurting out, “What’s my favorite food?”
 

He looks at me his eyes wide and then he laughs. A full belly laugh.
 

I frown. “Why is that funny?”
 

“Because of all the questions you could ask, that’s what you ask.”
 

I laugh a little too, but it felt like the right question to ask. It is a light-hearted question. I don’t think I could handle anything too deep right now. And the question has more meaning to me than he knows. It was something Landon picked up on. Pain beats at my heart when I think of Landon, but I try my best to tune the pain out and focus on Ethan.
 

“Pizza. Yes, pizza was by far your favorite food.”