Page 45 of Home Is Where You Are

She broke down in my arms, her tears soaking my shirt, but I didn’t care. Making sure she was alright was all I could focus on at that moment. I’d face the consequences of how I felt tomorrow. Right now was all about making sure she felt safe and secure.

She pulled away from me and wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

“I really need to stop crying on you,” she said with a laugh, but it was fake. She was trying to make light of the situation, but she should know that wouldn’t work on me.

“I already told you. I’ll be here for you if you need me.”

Even though I shouldn’t. There was no way I could walk away from her if she needed me.

She mumbled something I couldn’t understand and turned and got into the bed, pulling the covers over her and up to her chin.

“What was that, butterfly?”

“I said thank you, but I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Why do you think that?”

Through most people’s eyes, she didn’t. Up until I saw her again, I’d have told her she didn’t deserve my kindness.

But all that went away the first time I saw her crying at the sight of my tattoo. Seeing her sad did something to me, and while I knew we couldn’t be what we once were again, she didn’t deserve my disdain. She deserved my understanding. And once we finally have the conversation we should’ve had the moment she stepped foot back in Haven Valley, she’d find that she deserved my forgiveness as well.

I pulled off my boots and jeans and got settled on the air mattress, laying on my side with my head propped up on my hand so I could listen to what she had to say.

“You should hate me, that’s why. Most days, I hate myself.”

I was stunned at this small confession. So much so that I wasn’t sure how to respond. I felt like she just needed me to be closer. I got up from the air mattress and went to sit on the bed beside her. My hand rested on the mattress as I leaned toward her, ready to scoop her in my arms to comfort her at a moment’s notice.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Instantly my mind believed that she referred to the kiss tonight, and my body went stock still, wanting to pull away from her and cower off to the air mattress to lick my wounds.

“What’re you sorry for, darlin’?” I managed to choke out, hoping and praying she didn't regret the intimate moment we’d shared tonight. A moment, albeit hinging on the catastrophe the night brought, was a perfect moment nonetheless. A moment where we weren’t two grieving souls ripped apart by what destiny had thrown our way. We were just back to the Ainsleigh and Gentry of yesteryear. A place we should’ve been all along.

“So much more than you’ll ever realize,” she confessed, her hand moved slightly and her fingers began stroking the top of my hand.

I wanted to beg her to elaborate.

Instead I waited, my breath caught in my throat, longing for her confession to spark the conversation we should’ve had four years ago.

The conversation was well past overdue, but I couldn’t be the one to broach the subject. Ainsleigh had to be the one or else she’d shut down, and we’d never have the chance to exchange the grief-stricken thoughts we shared.

“You deserved more than a letter. I was just too much of a chicken to face you. I knew I needed to leave here to heal, and seeing you, confessing my plans to you, I knew you’d convince me to stay,” she finally muttered.

A lone teardrop escaped as the last word left her beautiful lips.

Her confession tore at my insides. The turmoil evident in her voice and the pain we’d gone through weighed heavily on my heart.

I didn’t speak for the longest time, just relished in the words she'd confessed as I mustered up the courage to respond.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, releasing the air from my nose before I spoke.

“Did you? Heal, I mean?”

What I really wanted to ask was, ”Was leaving me worth it?”

Her fingers stilled in their caress of my hand, and she flipped my hand over, the tips of her fingers ran along the palm of my hand. When her fingertips got to mine, she moved hers back down and stopped, linking her fingers within my own.

“I thought I had. I had a great four years of college. I missed home, but being away allowed me to suppress my feelings instead of face them. I don’t regret leaving and spreading my wings.”