Page 88 of When In Doubt

Is he holding me tighter than before? It kind of feels like it, but maybe I’m just imagining his arms become more constricting. I try to shift a little but it’s hard to move, and all I succeed in doing is bucking my hips against his, which he meets with an enthusiastic roll of his own.

Suddenly things feel sickeningly familiar. I’m barely here anymore. I’m somewhere else, with someone else.

My breathing becomes more labored.

I don’t like this.

This is scary.

I want it to stop.

I try to open my mouth to tell him but I can’t form the words, my mind spinning too fast, and it’s all I can do to bring my hands to his chest, ready to push him off.

I finally get out a noise, a desperate croak that has his head snapping up. His eyes are like saucers as he takes in my panicked expression. I don’t know what I look like, but if his face is anything to go by, it isn’t good.

“Freya?” he asks, pushing up onto his hands. I can breathe a little easier without his weight on me. I push him further and he goes, sitting back on his heels. As soon as he’s off me I take my chance and slide out from under him, scrambling up the bed.

I don’t know what he’s saying, I can hardly hear anything over the roaring in my ears as I huddle against the headboard.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

OSCAR

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What just happened? What did I do?

One minute she was writhing underneath me and the next she’s curled up, eyeing me like I could pounce on her at any second.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” I soothe, the desperate edge in my voice hard to stomp down. I raise my hands, the way you might when approaching a cornered animal. “Freya, it’s okay, just take some deep breaths for me, yeah?”

My heart breaks at the sight of her. She squeezes her eyes shut and tucks her face into her knees. It feels like a fist going through my chest. I scramble around to grab my shirt, figuring my bare chest isn’t exactly gonna be helping.

“Frey,” I plead. “Please say something, tell me what to do, tell me how to help you. I just want to help.”

A choked sob rips out of her and it kills me. I did this. I made her feel this afraid. I don’t know how, where I went wrong, what signals I missed, but somewhere in my haste I got so carried away that now she’s shaking at the top of the bed, refusing to look at me.

“Freya, please. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll go, I swear. Just tell me you’re okay and I’ll leave, give you some space.” Fuck, I’ll never speak to her again if that’s what she wants. “I don’t want to leave you alone like this, but say the word and I’m gone.” I’m rambling, my words rushing together in my panic. I don’t know what to do, how to make this better.

Her head finally rises and she looks at me, eyes rimmed red. In this moment, I know I’d tear out my heart and hand it to her, lay at her feet and spill my guts, anything to clear that haunted look from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

The fuck?

“What?” I ask. “Freya… baby, no. you have nothing to be sorry for.” I scoot an inch closer to her, something in me loosening a fraction when she doesn’t back away. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I am sorry.”

“No, you—” She stumbles over her words. “You didn’t do anything. I ruined it.”

“Jesus, Frey.” I sigh. “You didn’t ruin a fucking thing. If you’re not into it, then neither am I.”

“But you were…”

“Yeah, only because I thought you were too.” I gain another inch of ground, slowly moving closer. “Freya, I swear to God, I thought you liked it, I never would have kept going otherwise.”

“I did!” she exclaims. “I wanted to, it just all got too much, and it scared me, and I—” Her words cut off on another sob. It honestly feels like I could be dying. Like with the next tear down her cheek, I’ll drop dead.