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"I'm doing better now, and I'm pretty sure I can walk up the stairs, but I won't decline an escort." Apollo reluctantly lets her slide to her feet but doesn't let go of her. She looks up at him and says, "Thanks for the help, I appreciate it— and sorry I caused a scene."
With a deep seriousness on his face, Apollo gazes down at her. "It's not a problem at all, and you didn't cause a scene. Believe me, from what I've seen over the years, you're handling it quite well considering."
She ducks her head but nods that she heard him, and I take her arm, guiding her away from Apollo to go upstairs. "Thanks for the assist, man. Marcus, you too for calling me," I say as we depart, but I don't bother to acknowledge Brent. He's completely useless and quite frankly an asshole.
Up in her room, I'm helping her get undressed when she briefly tries to protest. I remind her that I'm still her best friend and I'm going to help her whether she likes it or not.
"I don't care if we're fighting, Lark— you're my family and I love you. We can finish our tiff later, let's just take care of you, for now." Wrapping her in a towel for the short walk to the bathroom, I hug her to me. "It'll get better, Birdie-babe."
She finally relents, and I'm also able to talk her into taking a quick shower to wash off the nervous sweat that has dried on her skin. I try not to stare while I keep an eye on her, but it's hard. As soon as she's done, I help her get into pajamas, and, toeing my shoes off, I climb in behind her where I stay until she falls asleep peacefully and hopefully without any nightmares.
Lark
Well, that was fun. Not. I slip out of bed and notice the scent of Brade's cologne drifting out of the blankets. Somehow it makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. There's really no reason as nothing has changed, but it's a visceral comfort.
I actually feel somewhat refreshed after my meltdown, like a reset button was hit or something. And I'm starving. So I get dressed and head for the kitchen where I find Apollo putting dinner leftovers in storage containers.
"How are you feeling, Lark?" He doesn't use his pet name, and I kinda miss it. Maybe he's being careful. I probably scared them all.
"Better. Really," I reassure him when he looks skeptical. "I am hungry though." My eyes can't help but stray to the food on the counter.
That seems to reinforce my claim, and he lets out a rueful chuckle, shaking his head as he goes over to the microwave. He hits the quick reheat button, and I see a plate inside when the light comes on. "Marcus is like that too. Nothing distracts him when his stomach demands food." I look at him curiously, but he doesn't elaborate.
The microwave dings, and he turns to a drawer for silverware before getting my plate and taking it to the dining room for me despite my protest that I can do it myself.
It triggers a memory, and I remember how shocked Marcus was when I offered to feed him when we were alone— it gives me an idea of the reason behind the eating habits. Determined not to be sad or dwell on unpleasant things that I can't fix, I change the subject.
"If you're going for a run tomorrow, do you mind if I join you? I'm going a bit stir crazy inside all the time." I mentally cross my fingers that he'll agree as I sit at the empty table to eat my dinner.
"Yes, of course. As long as you're sure you're feeling up to it."
I nod, and he excuses himself to finish in the kitchen.
I'm too wired after my long nap to sleep, and since it's so late, I settle on reading. After I take a half dose of my medication. Which reminds me, I really need to see if one of the guys can get me a virtual appointment or something with a doctor who can actually help. Since this mess isn't resolved, and neither my anxiety nor pregnancy are going away, I have to do something. I make a mental note to take care of it tomorrow and go to pick a book.
Sitting in the spot I've claimed on the couch, I'm only marginally paying attention to the story when Marcus taps on the doorway. I look up, giving him a smile, and set the book aside. The tight skin around his gray eyes relaxes in relief at my welcome. "What are you still doing up?" I ask him.
"Actually, I was coming to find you. Apollo said you were in here after he checked the video feeds for the night, and I wanted to show you the security room. He mentioned that you were hesitant about making yourself comfortable here, and we both want to make sure that that's not the case. Plus, it can double as a safe room in a pinch if you can't get to the basement." He winces and groans at bringing up the one place in the house I want nothing to do with.
"I did it again. I can't seem to not say something wrong around you." Poor guy looks helpless, and I feel the urge to comfort him.
"You don't do it on purpose. And my issues aren't your responsibility, so you should cut yourself some slack. I'm beyond grateful you came for me and Brade, Apollo too. You guys have gone above and beyond, even bringing Rex and Emmett who had Brent tagging along. You didn't have to do all that, and I know it." That was apparently not reassuring in the least.
Features frowning in concern, he reveals the issue. Sorta. "So you're grateful for us providing a safe haven. I understand that, now. After the way you greeted us— I apologize for overstepping." Well, that's clear as mud.
I'm not sure what I've said wrong, but I’m not going to let him leave without explaining. Too much of that has gone on already. Case in point—Marcus retreating toward the hallway.
"Whoa, hold up. What'd I say?" He pauses and turns, but his face is set in polite, empty lines. "Uh-uh, none of that now, mister. Get back here and explain." Shock cracks his facade, and he actually listens. But now he looks a little fierce, and I'm wondering if my big mouth has gotten itself into trouble.
He walks directly up to the couch, places a hand on the arm of it, and leans down until I can smell the spicy scent on his skin. My nipples pebble in response. Yep, definitely trouble.
"I am not socially normal. It's not been possible for the most part in my life, and I don't always recognize cues from others in the way they are meant. While our meeting was under terrible circumstances, I've grown to care for you very much, and after you were immediately affectionate with Apollo and myself, I took it to mean that you feel the same. I see your reaction when I'm near." He leans back to pointedly glance at my chest. Noticed that, did he? "Yet since we arrived, you have been distant, physically. I thought that was because you might be uncomfortable around the others— it is a unique situation. But then you say how grateful you are, and I only seem to remind you of the bad. Me leaving was me backing off."
I'm flabbergasted at his thought process. It makes sense when he puts it out there like that, but now I feel we're on a precipice. It's up to me to go forward or retreat. I subtly cross my fingers and hope I'm making the right decision.
When I lean forward to touch my lips to his, his eyes widen in surprise before he responds. Marcus takes over, pressing me back into the corner of the couch, dominating the kiss. Tingling waves coast up my arms and down my chest, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.
He breaks away until I meet his gaze. "Are you okay with this? Should I stop?" He's a hundred percent serious as he awaits my answer. I know even if I say no, things will still be okay between us.
