Page 54 of Letting Go

His breathing is slowing down and he drops a hand and rakes it through his wavy hair. Slowly, as if I'm made of glass, he puts an arm around me and pulls me close. I lean my head on his chest and hear his heart thumping as he strokes my arm and breathes into my ear.

"I'm so sorry, Chloe."

But I'm relieved. This huge weight is gone though. It feels strangely therapeutic to tell my story. To remember it is a story from the past and doesn't have to define me today. Right now. In his arms. That just telling my story is some form of redemption. I didn't want to give him the nitty-gritty details, I didn't want to tell him what Reed Clifton said to me when he'd come down to the basement and put my head in his lap, when I was so sick I could barely move: "I love it when strong women are weak," he'd whisper in my ear.

Oh, God, he was disgusting.

It is this memory fleeting and revolting while being held in Bryce's arms that releases tears. I tip my face up, raise a hand to his face, and then he gently kisses me, long, slowly, his breath and mouth hungry but sweet and it's then I feel wet tears on his cheeks. No crying. Just his tears.

"Thank you so much for telling me all this. I know it’s hard. Really hard."

Exhausted, I nestle down in his arms and close my eyes and we sit for a few minutes before he lifts me like a rag doll and lays me back against my pillows. He pulls the sheets up and sort of tucks me in and then stands in silhouette against the moonlight.

"I know it sounds pathetic, but I just never feel safe. I'm always….always looking over my shoulder." I hate the way I sound. Small. Afraid. And then, from the dark, his voice rumbles.

"Not anymore."

Chapter Fourteen

Bryce

I didn’t sleep all night and now I just feel like shit. What Chloe told me last night made my blood churn. What she went through—a prisoner in her mind and in fact. Some filthy basement. No food. I rose at four and went for a run, doing sprints in the sand, in the dark on the beach. When I couldn't catch my breath, I took it out on the sea, diving in and pounding through the surf, out into the open ocean. Swimming in the dark.

It's an hour later, the sun is coming up, and I'm slicing through the water, not thinking, not angry, just gutted, the mechanism of swimming taking over my mind and body. It takes a long time to realize my arms and legs are nearly numb and there's a ball of ice in my stomach threatening to pull me under. I turn to shore and I don’t stop until I feel sand under my feet. My body is wracked with waves of shivering as the surf pulls at my legs. They feel like lead. In the pink light of dawn, I see two more swimmers sheathed in neoprene.

Finn's wave is friendly, but he's concerned. I'm wiping streaming water from my face and shake more from my shoulders and back as he comes up. Claire, too, is frowning.

"Not safe," says Finn.

"This?" I clench my jaw to keep teeth from chattering.

"Yeah, this. There's hypothermia and it's dark. Too dark to be out here by yourself."

Claire touches Finn on the shoulder. "I'm going back."

"No need, I'm fine."

Claire's little face burns into mine. She's so tiny and yet such a force. "Your practically blue, Bryce. You two need to talk. I'm going back. We just finished anyway." And with that, she is off walking through the white froth back to the clinic. Over her shoulder, she yells, "I'll get a blanket."

Finn claps a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm fine. Really. Chloe just—she just told me what happened to her during her 'lost' years."

A wave of shivers runs through my body.

"You need to get out of the water." We start toward the shore. "Yeah, I know, she told her family last night. Apologized to everyone and I think they got some closure. At least I hope she did. She explained why she left."

Giving away information is something I am trained not to do and this is hard. "Did she tell them what happened to her?

"What do you mean?"

"That she was starved? Trapped in a basement? In a cult? Told what to do? Basically survived being brainwashed?" I can’t feel my legs. My core temperature has taken a dive.

"Comm'on" he says and grabs an arm and we make our way to the beach.

The sun starts burning low in the sky. He grabs the wool blanket off the back porch and tosses it to me before sitting in the sand.

"Wrap up and then shower."