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“Didn’t realise it was me at the door.”
I sigh when she nods, her lip quivering and tears pooling again.
She steps aside, letting me in, her eyes lingering on the ratty gym bag in my hand, and I give her a small smile.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I confess, “because every time I tried, I thought about you all alone here and probably not sleeping. I was worried. So I packed a bag, got in the car and came here. I stopped at that little shop down the street too. The one that never seems to close. Got snacks and hot chocolate. I figured if neither of us could sleep, maybe we could not sleep together.”
Her laugh is as unexpected as it is soft and I knit my brows together in confusion.
“Sorry,” Mik chuckles. “It’s just your phrasing. You reminded me of something Jamie said. I’m sorry. That’s really sweet, Ben. Honestly.”
As she speaks her features smooth into something more akin to the Mikaela I know – she’s warmer now and definitely more forthcoming with me, but she’s still Mik Wilcox – the girl who would mock me endlessly when we were young.
“Make yourself at home. I just need to clean this up.” Her eyes flick back to the coffee cup shattered on the floor as mine run over her, catching a streak of red running down her leg.
“Wait.” I reach out to her as she steps away, wrapping my fingers around her wrist before she can move, and I step closer. She sucks in a sharp breath, but doesn’t pull away. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” She smiles too sweetly. “Just a cut.”
I shake my head at her, the ghost of annoyance flaring in my gut as I realise Mikaela Wilcox has given up when it comes to looking after herself.
“Sit down.” I drag her to the table, pulling out a chair for her as I sweep remnants of stoneware away with my foot. “Where do you keep your first aid kit?”
Mikaela
Everything about Ben has authority and a calm control that leaves me with no choice but to do as I’m told, and truthfully, I’m grateful for it.My head is pounding and the sting in my leg is beginning to burn with every step I take. And I am tired. I amsotired.
“Bathroom. Under the sink.”
He nods as he pushes me to sit down, before turning quickly, his jaw tight.
I watch him as he rummages in the bathroom, his shoulders tense, and as he makes his way back to me, his eyes burning with an intensity that seems to simmer in the blue.I watch as he slowly gets to his knees.
“Put your foot here.” His command is partnered with a small gesture to the seat next to him.
“Ben, I appreciate this, but I can -”
“Mik.” His eyes are trained on me, all of the intensity and compassion and worry searing into my skin. “Just do as you’re told for once and put your foot on the chair so that I can look after you. Please.”
I try not to smile as I do as I’m told.
His fingers move with a feather touch, skimming over my skin and wiping away the slow stream of blood with an antiseptic wipe, and his mouth remains set in a tight line. I watch as he swipes over it gently, coating the wound with a gel, before pressing a dressing to it and taping it to my skin.
The whole time he takes care of me, I wonder what might happen if I run my fingers through the dark mess of hair, or what he would do if I place them under his chin and tilt his face so that he is looking at me. What he might do if I lean in as I hold him like that.
“Stop looking at me like that, Mikaela.” His voice is a low growl, but his smile is pure mischief as he watches his own hands.
“Like what?”
I gulp when he turns his gaze on to me. Likethat. Stop looking at him like that. Exactly the same way he is looking at me now; like he’s starving and I am the only thing that could ever satisfy his hunger. My lips part slightly and I watch as he shakes his head while his fingers caress the angry skin beside my wound.
“You don’t want me, Mik.” His voice is twinged with something so painful it twists in my stomach, even though his smile never falters. “Not really.”
“What if I did?” It’s a whisper, a secret that grows in the safety of the darkness - something that should never have seen the light - but here it is; hanging in the air between us. “What would happen if I did?”
Hope. I see it just as he feels it. Just as he tries to claw it aside and bury it beneath concern.
“You’re hurting, Mik, and you’re afraid. You don’t want me. But if you did?” His fingers brush tentatively down my calf as I move, lowering my leg and leaning forwards. “If, when some of this has passed, when you aren’t scared to go to bed alone in this shitty little apartment... if you wanted me?” There is nothing but simple honesty in his eyes. “You’d have me, Mik.”
My breath hitches and he shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the small pile of bloodied wipes and tissues.
“But that’s not important, because you’re just vulnerable right now. So, go pick a movie and get comfortable. I’ll clean up over here and make us some drinks. And I’m going to stay on your couch for a while.”
