Grabbing my clothes from the chair, I throw them on the bed. I’m standing in front of him on the cold linoleum floor in nothing but a hospital gown. I make a twirling motion with my finger impatiently. “Do you mind turning around?”

Sighing, he runs his hands through his already-messy hair. “I’m not turning around. I want to help you. Seeing what he did to you can’t make me feel any worse. Believe me.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and try to gather the right words to respond, and help put his mind at ease. “River, it was not your fault. Some perverted animal, looking to get his kicks by attacking women, that isn’t your fault.”

He can’t hide his shudder from my eyes. “Dahlia, it wasn’t a fucking incident. You were attacked. If I had been with you it wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have been sleeping. It’s really just that simple.”

I stand there shocked by his tone, even though I know he doesn’t mean to be so harsh. “No, it’s not just that simple . . . ,” I start to argue, but he cuts me off.

His shoulders sag. He promptly diverts his eyes to the ground and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I’m sorry, Dahlia. I don’t mean to yell. I just can’t stand that you got hurt. It kills me to see you like this, to know what could have happened to you. It just kills me.”

We’ve had this conversation twice already. I already know my reassurances will go nowhere. So I repeat myself and contemplate making my way to the duffel bag lying next to the chair to get my socks and shoes and then go into the bathroom to change. But I plead one more time, “River, please turn around.”

He’s standing in front of me with only the bed between us but for some reason it feels like we’re miles apart. He doesn’t move toward me, but I can see the overwhelming emotion in his face and in his eyes. He’s hurting. I can also hear it in his voice and his sorrow not only makes me sad, it tears at my heart.

I’ve never been shy around him. I just know that I’m covered in bruises and I want so badly to spare him the heartache of seeing me this way.

“No, let me help you,” he whispers. His tone is barely audible.

With a deep sigh I resign myself to his plea and pointing near the chair I ask, “Can you please hand me that?”

Grabbing my bag, he sets it on the bed.

As I untie the ugly green gown and slide it down my arms, he watches me. But not in an Oh, I want to see you naked kind of way, more like an Oh God, I might be sick way.

The gown puddles on the floor and I stand there completely naked in front of him. I watch as he looks at me. He scans my body from head to toe before his eyes drift back up to meet mine and he swallows.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, I pick up the hospital gown and playfully toss it at him. “Your turn to play dress-up.”

His lips finally turn up in a semblance of a smile, but his eyes are still filled with sadness. “I think I’ll pass this time, if you don’t mind,” he says, holding the gown up to him. “Green isn’t my color.”

Both of us smiling, I know he’s looking beyond my bruises. At last. And all his love for me is now reflected in his eyes—it means everything to me.

He strides around the bed and insists on helping me put on my panties and jeans. I want to comment on how easy it would be for him to get in my pants right now, but I refrain. But when he ever so carefully starts to pull my sweater over my head, I can’t hold back. Grabbing his hand, I press it over my heart and look at him. “See, you can touch me. I won’t break. I’ll even let you get to second base,” I say, sliding his hand down to cup my breast.

He resists at first, but eventually sighs and brushes his thumb over my nipple. A slow grin crosses his lips. “Second base, that’s it? I think I had a better chance with the pants.”

We both laugh a little and I continue to hold his hand in place. His eyes burn into mine as he moves his hand to cup my cheek. Leaning into my ear he whispers, “You better stop it. You’re going to get me all worked up and when Nurse Smiley Face comes in here she’s going to kick me out.”

He pulls back and I roll my eyes as he pulls my sweater down the rest of the way. I silently wince a little in pain. My shoulder is sore, my wrist is sprained, and my body is bruised. The doctor wanted to cut off my bracelet, the only jewelry I was wearing, because of the swelling, but I begged him not to. It’s the one thing of Ben’s I have left and I need it to always remind me to live my life with no regrets.

Once I’m dressed, he gently places his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he whispers.

“You could never hurt me,” I respond in a low, comforting voice.

Leaning back, he crosses his finger over his heart. “I promise I will never let anything happen to you again.” The ache in his voice cuts through me and I have to take a deep breath to prevent tears. I just want to throw my arms around his neck but my aching body won’t let me, so I settle for circling my arms around his waist instead. He, in turn, slips his back around mine and we just hold each other. Then he kisses each of my eyelids and rests his forehead against mine. And with each passing second I can feel our love growing stronger, if that’s even possible. We stay like this in silence until the nurse enters the room.

She clears her throat and he whispers, “Nurse Smiley Face caught us again, I’m in trouble now.”

I giggle and we pull apart. She’s nice, but she didn’t like it that River stayed the night. And once last night when I asked him to lie next to me, she came in to check my vitals and made him get off the bed.

She takes my blood pressure one last time and goes over the discharge instructions left by the doctor—basically rest, no strenuous activities, and if I experience headaches of any kind I am to see my doctor immediately.

Once I’ve signed all the paperwork, the nurse calls for an orderly and when he arrives he wheels me to the door. River gets his car and we are finally allowed to leave the hospital. He decided earlier that we should spend the night in Tahoe and head home in the morning. On the way to the hotel, he looks over at me. “Did I tell you Xander and Caleb are here?”

I look at him questioningly. “No you didn’t. Why are they here?”

He laughs a little and says, “What do you mean ‘why’? They’re here to make sure you’re okay.”

“But we’re going home tomorrow, they could have just checked on me then.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he answers, “I know but I wanted Xander to drive us back so I can sit with you.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you, but not necessary. I’m fine.”

“Well even if you’re fine, it’s not a short ride and I want you to be able to stretch out in a backseat. I wanted to be able to be close to you. To take care of you if you need anything.”

I look at him lovingly; he really does always say the sweetest things. “Thank you. But why did Caleb come? Do Xander and Caleb even really know each other?” I have to ask because it wasn’t so long ago that I thought River didn’t care for Caleb and now his brother is riding up to Lake Tahoe with him.

“Yeah, of course they know each other. They’ve met a few times, actually. And since I decided yesterday to hire Caleb to install additional security in our house, I thought it would be a good idea to discuss the upgrade with him before we get home. That way he can start on it as soon as possible.”

“We don’t need additional security at home because of what happened. River, I think that’s a bit much.”

“Dahlia, I never had the security system upgraded when I moved in, so I’m just taking a precautionary measure, that’s all. You’ll be coming back to LA alone during the tour so I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Shaking my head I throw in, “I didn’t even think you liked Caleb.”

“I never said I didn’t like him.”

“No, you didn’t say it, but I felt it every time you talked to him.”

“Hmm . . . well, regardless of how I feel about him I know he’s good at what he does and when I called him he said he had time. Oh, and one more thing, Caleb or someone who works for him will be escorting us places.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You mean like bodyguards?”

“Well I wouldn’t call them bodyguards, just additional security.”

“That sounds really awkward.”

“Dahlia, I promise you won’t even know they’re around.”

“I doubt that.” I rest my head against the window and close my eyes. I find the whole amp-up-the– security thing a little absurd, but since it makes him feel better, I won’t protest.

* * *

When we get to the hotel, we learn that Caleb had our room changed and he and Xander now occupy the adjoining room next door. I want to tease River—“Yeah, we won’t even know they’re around,” but I don’t.

The doctor gave me some pain pills at the hospital and they’ve made me so tired that I spend the rest of the day in bed, snuggled in River’s arms. I must have fallen into a deep sleep because when I wake, I look at the clock and it’s well after midnight. The first thing I do is reach for him only to find that he isn’t next to me. Looking around the room, I’m a little disoriented at first. But I see River huddled in the corner with Caleb and Xander, discussing something in hushed whispers that I can’t hear. When he sees me try to sit up and move to get off the bed, he hastily rushes over.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks in almost a whisper. His face looks worn, tired, and worried.

“I need to go to the bathroom and get some water.” I try to smile at him, but my mouth tastes like it has a wad of cotton balls in it and my body feels completely detached from my mind. I’m not sure I can actually walk to the bathroom without falling. I also feel light-headed.

“Let me help you,” he says as he moves my legs to the floor and carefully helps me stand up. But when I start to wobble a little, I grab his shoulder for support. I think the pain medication has not only made me light-headed, but also unstable.

He’s already wrapping my arm around him as he picks me up. “Dahlia, let me help you.”

Xander and Caleb look over at me, appearing worried. They stand and both say good night, disappearing through the adjoining door.

Once we reach the bathroom, River gently sets me down and removes my pants. I grip the counter and begin to regain my stability.

“Can you grab me a T-shirt?” I ask him quietly.

“Sure, beautiful girl, whatever you need,” he replies with a smile.

When he leaves the bathroom I push the door slightly closed and frown as I take the first real glimpse of myself in the mirror since I got home. I look much worse than I did earlier this morning. The bruises have turned purple, my wrist is still swollen, the scrapes on my cheek from where my attacker held my face to the ground are crusted over, and my shoulder aches from where he shoved his knee to hold me down.

I carefully pull off my sweater and hastily wrap a towel around me. I consider a shower, but decide against it. It seems like it would require too much energy right now. I do manage to brush my teeth. Once I finish, I look back into the mirror and see that he’s standing behind in the doorway with such sadness in his eyes. He walks over to me as I wipe my mouth with a towel.

“Let’s put this on you,” he says while pulling his long-sleeved 30 Seconds to Mars T-shirt over my head. “It will be easier to get on and off than one of yours and it will keep you warm.”

I let him dress me like I’m a small child. Happy memories of my father getting me ready for school pop into my head. My dad would help me get dressed and drop me off at school when my mother had to leave early for work. I loved those days. I loved every day my parents were alive.

“You alright, Dahlia?” he asks with concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Then smiling, I tell him, “You dressing me now just reminded me of happy times when my dad would let me pick out whatever I wanted to wear to school whether it matched or not. Since my mom wasn’t home to make me change I usually wore his concert T-shirts.”

He smirks, “You mean your mom, the fashion designer, didn’t like it when you wore your dad’s grungy T-shirts to school?”

“How did you guess?”

“Intuition,” he tells me. “Personally, I think you make everything you wear look incredible, but I could see where your mom might have a different opinion.”

I lean into him just to feel his warmth and nuzzle his neck. “I wish you could have met my parents.”