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His face creases.
Keeping hold of my wounded wrist, I bring the hand to my chest, splaying my fingers over where my heart pounds against my t-shirt. “I swear. I wasn’t.”
His throat ripples with another hard swallow, and he finally gives a short, accepting nod.
I sag in relief, my exhale punching out of me. Eyes falling shut, I murmur, “Fuck.”
“Why?”
Eyes opening, I find his gleaming icy blue orbs staring back at me, begging me for some kind of explanation that makes sense.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just…” I wave my fingers from where my hand’s still locked around my wrist. “I just need it out sometimes.”
“It?”
Again, I shrug. “I don’t really know how to explain it, especially not in a way that will make you think it’s okay.”
He nods slowly. “You’ve done this before.”
His gaze flicks to my arm, and I wonder if it’s only now registering that it wasn’t just smears of blood he saw on my arm.
Shit.
“How long?”
“Mas—”
“How. Long.”
Blowing out a breath, I say, “It doesn’t ma?—”
“Of course it fucking matters!” he explodes.
I flinch at his outburst, and my elbow knocks something over on the counter. I don’t look to see what it is.
He mutters a curse and turns away, clasping the back of his head. “It matters, Jeremy. You hurting yourself matters,” he grits out.
“I’m not…”
He whirls on me. “You’re not what? Hurting yourself?” He gestures angrily at my arm. “How is slicing your skin open not hurting yourself?”
“I told you?—”
“You want it out. Yeah, I heard you.” He shakes his head, a humorless laugh escaping him. “What do you want out?”
“I don’t?—”
“Stop fucking doing that!”
“Doing what?” I shout back, catching both of us off guard.
We both stare at each other, wide-eyed, chests heaving.
“It’s not a big deal, okay?” I hunch my shoulders. “I barely even do it anymore. This was the first in…months, maybe a whole year.” Definitely not a year.
His eyes crease, and he shakes his head. “You can talk to someone. Talk to me. Is it…is it because of what happened last year? Because?—”
“It’s because of a lot of things,” I cut in harshly. “I just get all up in my head sometimes, or…or things don’t work out the way I want them to, and my brain just…” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
