Scream of Sorrow [ON HOLD]

EIGHT

Nick took her to three different swimwear shops early the next day.

"I hate this place," she grumbled, throwing a skimpy set back into its basket.

"I'd rather the dressing rooms be full," he said with a lazy smile. "But one can't get everything in life."

She swatted his arm, shooting him a glare. "Fine, I give up."

"There you go. I'll just lend you one of my boxers."

She turned to him, raising her eyebrows. "We're not leaving yet."

"We're not?" he said, frowning.

"No, you're going to choose for me."

He quirked an eyebrow, amused. "You sure about that?"

She shot him a dirty look. "You're going to choose something less flashy than all the stuff we've seen so far."

"Just throw on some shorts, princess," he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Choose."

"Fine," he grunted, strolling further into the shop.

Reagan sighed deeply and felt regret consume her. She wanted to surf. She wanted to wear normal bikinis like normal girls. She wanted to have fun.

But how could she when her body was painted with bruises and scars?

It didn't take long for Nick to come back with a hanger. "That's about the most modest thing I could find, princess."

It was a cute, black, tropical printed, loose blouse and shorts set along with a bra top.

"Close the shirt and you'll be good," he told her encouragingly. 

She groaned. "Why does it have to be so fucking complicated?"

"That's on you," he said lightly but she didn't miss the angry underlying tone.

"I'll just go try it on," she muttered. "Stay close, I don't want anyone else seeing me."

He nodded, gesturing at the two rows of red curtains that faced each other.

She went in, glad for her black stockings. She pulled her denim shorts of and put on the new pair Nick found her.

He leaned against the wall next to the dressing room she was shuffling in. When she pulled the curtains aside, he inhaled sharply and tried not to wince at the multiple bruises on her chest and stomach.

"Don't look at them, I'll use concealers and stuff," she said, her voice wobbling slightly.

"It looks good, I suppose," he said, gesturing at her to turn. "Yeah, the size is okay, too . . . "

"You sure it's good?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

He grinned dopily. "You look hot, love."

She scoffed, a grin pulling at her lips. "Fine, I'm taking it."

They bought the set and went out when Nick insisted that he was buying her some sunscreen, lib balm, hand sanitizer, wet wipes and after-sun lotion, ignoring Reagan's protests that she didn't need any of that. He also bought a black beach bag and flat, tan sandals, asking if she had sunglasses and a towel.

"Nick, stop treating me like your daughter!" she laughed, shaking his arm.

He grinned down at her. "Who am I gonna spoil then?"

"Find yourself someone else!" she said indecorously, pointing at the cart he was pushing. "You look far too happy throwing your money around!"

He threw a mini first aid kit into the cart along with a water bottle and then some snacks.