Beyond Repair Read Online Free PDF Page B

blurted, “There.
Now you can stand up and leave it behind, like a leathery outline of yourself.”
    It didn’t help in the slightest. The moment he stood she
knew she’d misjudged. He emerged from that soaked cocoon like a brand-new man,
all bare arms and broad shoulders. Of course they’d been broad before, when
he’d been inside the jacket. But there was something much rawer and more real
about them now. She could make out things through the thin material—jutting,
rounded things.
    Tempting things , she thought, then quickly pushed the
thought away.
    She focused instead on the jacket, which also proved to be a
mistake. She’d been right about how it would look. It was weird but she had
been right. She could actually see the shape of him in the mess of material
he’d left behind, and it wasn’t a soothing sight. It made her think of stories
about goblin shapeshifters shedding their skin—as though this weren’t the real
him anymore.
    This was the thing that had taken him over. The real man had
dissolved down into that sagging thing on the sofa, and now she was left with
the creature. Funny then, that this creature didn’t seem so bad. In fact he was
sort of better than the one he’d been when she first encountered him on the
rug.
    That guy had seemed like a hard-partying probable jerk face.
    This guy was sort of awkward and unsure of himself. He kept
brushing at his bare forearms, as solid as the rest of him but somehow
vulnerable now without their layer of leather. And when he looked at her
finally, that same vulnerability was in his gaze. All the silly, weird talk was
done, and there was just veiled blue, like something lost at the bottom of the
ocean. There were just the words he hadn’t said— Why I did this, why I still
want to, why it felt so bad I thought I had to .
    She could see it all, because those things were in her too.
They made her want to hug him—though she knew what would happen the moment she
dared. Of course it was possible that he would talk and talk and talk about
himself and never expect a word from her. But it was equally possible that he’d
do the opposite.
    He’d already done the opposite in so many ways. She’d
thought he’d be arrogant and aggressive; he wasn’t. She’d thought he’d be
bemused by the weirdest thing she could say; he hadn’t been. There was a chance
he’d listen.
    But all that did was make her realize something, for the
first time…
    She was absolutely terrified to say anything about herself
at all.
     

Chapter Three
     
    She woke with a start at some time past dawn, in the cold gray
light that usually heralded the day’s arrival. From where she was laid she
could see the mist pressing its fingers against the broad living room windows,
faint here but heavy farther back. The ocean was pretty much concealed in a way
that always disturbed her—as though she’d somehow found herself in some strange
hell, and nothing beyond her front door actually existed.
    The movie star she was lying on didn’t really help matters,
in that regard. He seemed like the most unreal thing of all. Of course,
rationally she knew that was his thigh she was feeling beneath her cheek. She
could see his enormous knee out of the corner of one eye, and that salt-sweet
smell of him was very clear, here. But she couldn’t really process it.
    Until she realized what had yanked her out of sleep.
    She shouldn’t have done it. She’d meant to stay awake and
keep talking to him all night, in case something unthinkable happened. Then
somehow…somehow she must have started sinking on the couch—and maybe he’d
settled her in this position out of kindness, without thinking what that might
mean for him.
    Hell, maybe he had thought about what that might mean
for him. He’d encouraged her to lapse into unconsciousness so he could too—only
he didn’t want to simply sleep. He wanted to die , she thought, you’ve
let him die , and Jesus, the panic that followed was near unbearable. It