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He’s gorgeous.
He deserves the world.
His hand moves out, grabbing my arm gently and helping me out of the car. Easing me out until my feet are steady on the pavement.
“Do you need me to carry you?” he asks.
“I’m good,” is all I say as I move toward the door, trying to keep my wits, trying to keep it together. He unlocks the front door, his hand moving to my waist as we step in, and I look up the stairs.
That’s a lot of stairs.
My entire body aches, my fingers in the stretchy wrap feeling numb and the stitches above my eye starting to throb.
I need sleep.
I need a drink.
I need sugar and butter and carbs.
I need to cry.
And at this moment, I don’t know what I need first. They all seem pretty vital.
But what I need most of all is Ben to stop being so nice to me, to stop being helpful. I need Ben to close himself behind his door, turn his music on way too loud, and go back to ignoring me.
That sounds easier than having any kind of conversation.
I start up the stairs, his hand on my lower back, ready to catch me.
When we hit the landing, we stand there for a moment before Ben starts for his door, digging in his pocket to unlock it.
That’s it, I guess.
Easier than I thought.
My own hand is fingering the bottom of the shirt he had Hattie bring me. It’s my shirt and I can’t help but wonder if his coworker also knows how to pick a lock or if he made himself a second spare when he replaced the lock on my door since my bag, and thus, keys, were brought to the hospital with me.
“What are you doing?” I hear before fingers are wrapped around my good wrist.
I don’t jolt, though, the feeling familiar and safe.
Ben.
“Going home?”
“What the fuck?” I stare at him, confused. “You’re not going in there.”
“What?”
“Babe, you were just nearly kidnapped. You got ten stitches in various places and went through an incredibly traumatizing event. Not to mention, we have no idea if Johnny was the end of it. You are not going into that apartment.” I sigh.
“You don’t have to do this, Ben.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Protect me. I’m good now. Johnny’s in custody. No one will be coming after me; it would be way too obvious. I didn’t do anything at all. Johnny aired out all of his dirty laundry, and even if he somehow gets released, we all know someone else will be taking care of him.” A muscle ticks in Ben’s jaw.
“You’re not leaving my sight for at least two days.”
