Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I wonder how he really feels about me, knowing I was married to Jesus. He’s a nice guy, so he’s going to be nice, but I’m sure inside he’s appalled. Anyone would be, especially if they knew the whole story.
I look back up at Cross and am almost surprised to find him speaking. He’s saying something about the fire and: “Marchant killed him, baby. He and the fuckers with him tried to exit out the front, and that’s where everybody had evacuated. Marchant had a gun, and he recognized Jesus.”
A shudder ripples through me, and he actually says, “I hope you’re not upset.”
I whisper, “No. Of course not. I’m…glad.”
Cross nods. “That’s what I thought.” He smooths my hair back, and for a long time we just sit there, clinging to each other. I can feel his gaze on me, but I still can’t bring myself to look into his eyes.
His fingers stroke my forehead. “How’s the hand?”
I’m not sure what he means until I look down and abruptly remember my left hand is in a cast. Tears fill my eyes again, and I shrug. “I don’t know. It hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” His forehead touches mine. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”
“You…?” And then I remember being chained to that statue thing; the smoke; and Cross. “Oh my God, that was you who got me out! It wasn’t a firefighter.”
He smiles, but it’s a sad one. “Nope.”
“Cross…wow. Just…wow, and thank you.” I lean up and kiss him on the cheek, and if it’s possible, his smile gets even sadder.
“You don’t owe me anything, Merri.”
There’s a long silence, during which I still cling to him. Even with Jesus dead…I shouldn’t be clinging to Cross. Not considering the bomb that I’m about to drop on him.
I shut my eyes and hold it in. I really want a few more minutes with him.
“I know I don’t owe you anything.” I lay my head against my pillow, close my eyes, and enjoy the feeling of his arm around me. The familiar scent of him. Everything about this man I’ve come to love will have to be remembered, because in a second, I know he’ll leave. Even someone like Cross couldn’t ignore what I’ve been holding back.
I keep telling myself I’ll say it in a minute, but I let many of them go by.
Cross doesn’t speak, and neither do I, and when a nurse comes in the room to check my temperature, she doesn’t ask him to move, so we don’t have to separate.
He’s lying on his left side with his right arm draped gently over me, his face buried in my hair, and it feels perfect, which is how I know I have to tell him now.
My voice trembles. “Cross—” I glance over at him and find his blue eyes rapt. “I need to tell you something else. Remember what I said back at that cottage?”
He nods. His face blurs from my tears, my voice cracks as I whisper, “I had sex with Jesus.” I squeeze my eyes shut, and before he can jump up or say something that hurts too much, I add: “He made me!”
Maybe that’s the worst part—the fact that I’ve been used like that—but I don’t think so. Jesus was a vile person, a violent killer, and regardless of how good he was to me for most of the time I was with him… “He forced me to marry him, and he forced me to have sex.”
I draw my knees up, pushing Cross away a little, and cover my face with my hand as I cry.
“Tell me about it.” Cross is holding onto me, and even though I swore I’d never tell anyone, I open up my mouth and let the words pour out.
“It was after we were…oh God, I can’t even say it. Married. A rumor got started. That he was gay,” I say tearily. “He was upset and so…he forced me to have sex with him…in front of other people.” There were lots of them: a whole room. “And it wasn’t just once, it was…” I gasp, struggling to get air, and Cross pulls me to his chest, holding onto the back of my head like he’s afraid someone will come take me away. He leans me back against the pillows and presses his finger on the oxygen tubing as he looks into my eyes.
“Damnit, Merri—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I nod, just focus on breathing, and when I get myself together, Cross pulls me tight against him again. “Merri,” he whispers into my hair, “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I don’t know,” I sob. “I guess I was…ashamed!”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He pulls away from me and looks into my eyes; his blue ones look like steel. “Nothing, Merri. You were a fucking— fracking victim. Nothing else.”