“What do you need right now?” Luke asks, moving his hand to my arm, rubbing it gently. His touch eases some of the ache in my muscles. “How can I help you?”
I shrug, unsure I even know what I need right now. I can’t think straight as it is.
Luke gives me an assessing look, like he’s calculating whether or not he should say something, but in the end, he seems to opt for it. “Marcus told me what day it is. About your dad. I’m sorry.”
I don’t know why hearing that sends a flare of irritation through me. Maybe it’s the bitter sting of realizing my best friend remembered my own father’s death date when I didn’t, or it could just be the fact that I’m not in my right frame of mind, but I can feel how it clings to me. Yet, in my poor state, I can’t seem to stop myself from lashing out at Luke in my anger instead, simply because he’s here and I’m a mess.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I snap, my voice harsh with disuse.
Luke’s hand stills on my arm. “Why not?”
My heart aches at the twinge of hurt in his voice, and I rub my hand over my face and sigh, feeling shitty. “It’s not a good day,” I say quietly.
“I know. That’s why I came.”
I frown slightly and look away, unable to meet his piercing gaze.
“I figured something was up since you didn’t come into work today. And when you weren’t answering my texts, I kept imagining you lying dead on the floor somewhere. I only asked Marcus if he’d heard from you when I got really worried, and that’s when he told me about your dad and said this wasn’t uncommon for you.”
Not uncommon, huh? Hearing that turns my stomach uncomfortably to think I’m both incredibly predictable and depressing. It’s also laughable when I remember that I’m only here like this now because I nearly forgot about the whole thing in the first place.
However, all my irritation dissolves with a fizzle at hearing how worried Luke was about me. A wave of added sadness takes its place.
“Sorry.” I close my eyes. “My phone’s on silent. I should have checked it.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Luke says firmly.
“You really shouldn’t have come over,” I repeat, though this time with less bite. The words just sound sad. “I’m no fun to be around when I’m like this.”
Luke withdraws his hand. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel the mattress shift as he stands up, and I hear him walk away. For a minute, I think this is it. This is the moment when he decides he’s had enough of me, and he’s going to leave. It wouldn’t be the first time. In fact, it’s almost predictable. These cripplingly low moods have a history of scaring people away.
But then I feel the mattress dip on the other side of the bed, and I snap my eyes open, turning my head to see Luke scooching over until he’s pressed up against my back. He wraps his arm around my stomach, pulling me closer to his chest, and he presses his head against mine, as if he’s trying to force the dark thoughts away.
“Don’t be an idiot.” His breath against my neck sends shivers down my spine as he settles behind me. He’s clinging to me so tightly that I feel like he’s holding me together. “If I couldn’t handle you at your worst, then I shouldn’t be allowed to see you at your best.”
Something inside me snaps. It’s like a valve in my brain is turned on, letting the tears I’ve held back come to the surface in a powerful wave. I’m helpless to stop the desperate sob as it breaks through, and I want to crawl out of my skin and bury myself under the earth to hide from it, ashamed for being too weak to keep it at bay.
Luke actually seems relieved as he holds me tighter in his arms. He speaks softly against my shoulder, like he’s soothing a wounded animal. That’s what I feel like, clinging to him like a lifeline, even as I bury my face in my pillow to hide my shame.My body is breaking all over. The only thing keeping me from totally falling apart is Luke's hold on me.
I haven’t cried this hard in a long time, especially not in front of another person in god knows how long. The last one with that privilege was undoubtedly Marcus, though it was years ago, and under much direr circumstances. But with Marcus, it was different. Our relationship was already rock solid before he had to pick me up off the floor, and no amount of my broken brain shenanigans could threaten that bond. I never worried that he would think less of me.
I would have expected to drive Luke away with my issues, rather than him wanting to stick around. Yet here he is now, responding to my distress with nothing but comfort and a declaration of his intent to stay with me through it. I don’t know why that feels so significant.
It takes a few minutes of me crying myself out before I can breathe deeply again without gasping for air, and the whole time, Luke rubs his hand over my arm and back in soothing circles. I don’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed after a while.
“Feel better?” Luke asks eventually.
“How do you do that?” My voice is raspy.
“Do what?”
“Keep pulling me back from the edge like that.”
Luke is quiet for a moment, but I feel his grip on me tighten ever so slightly. He sighs deeply. “I recognize the grief you feel as the same in me. I’ve learned how to spot it in the people around me over the years, and I know what I want when I’m in that space. It’s nice to know you’re not alone, especially when it feels like you are.”
I roll over until I’m facing Luke, and he gives me a small smile as he puts a hand to my cheek, brushing his thumb over my skin. As I look into his eyes, I can see there’s no judgment or fear as hegazes back at me—just softness and understanding. The cracks around my heart begin to mend, easing the tightness in my chest a little more.
“I forgot,” I admit softly, unsure why I feel the need to.
