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I grab each of us a glass from the cabinet, and pour some brandy in each. I need a drink, too.
“I'll help you. Don't worry about it tonight,” I say as I carry the two glasses over to the island. As I set the glasses down, I see that his knuckles are bloody again. They're much worse than the night at the restaurant. I'm really hoping he just hit a wall though and not a person this time. I stare at them for a long moment, refusing to look at his face.
He notices, but doesn’t say anything. Just like he always does.
We drink our brandy in silence. I’m waiting. I’ll wait for him this time. He has to tell me. I won’t pry. He has to know by now I won’t judge him, that I only want to help him. And he needs help. He desperately needs help.
I grab his hands and look into his pale blue eyes. “I’m here for you,” I tell him soothingly. I try to rub my thumb over his knuckles, but they hit the cuts and it stops me; it makes me pull away from him.
He looks down at the countertop as he says, “Don't leave me tonight, sweetheart. I need you. I don't want to be alone right now.”
“I'm here, and I'll be here for as long as you want me,” I say reassuringly. He looks so tired; he looks emotionally abused and raw. I want to hold him, scream at him to find out what he’s done, and question him until he tells me the truth. But I can’t.
He leads me toward the stairs, and I feel like shit. Nothing feels right. How can he just avoid something so obviously wrong? Even worse, how can I let him?Because his mother just died!
God, I feel sick.
As we get to the staircase, my phone goes off. It's Sandra. I anticipated she’d call me. I wonder what she would do about Derek. About finding him like this.
What the hell happened?
I respond back quickly,only pausing for a second.
What?
Her response is instantaneous.
Why did Derek attack Tony?
What the fuck!?My feet turn to stone, refusing to move as the message hits me.Derek attacked Tony?My heart stops in my chest as Derek tries to pull me along and up the stairs. I let him. I silence my phone, and I just try to breathe.
I can’t believe he hit Tony. I eye him as we walk. What did he say? What did he do?
He keeps covering his face with his other hand. He needs so much help. He’s so lost. I have no fear for my own life whatsoever, but for his? I’m so scared for him. My heart is breaking.
I stop at the entrance to his bedroom, and he keeps walking, right into the bathroom and washes his hands and splashes some water on his face.
I can’t explain how I feel as I sit on the end of the bed. It groans slightly as I shift my weight.
I love a man who’s fucked up. I know that. But I never guessed he’d take it out on Tony. I stare at the open door to the bathroom, wondering why.
Finally, I decide I have to ask him about it. I can’t just pretend. Even with his mom dying. This is just too much. “Derek, what happened with Tony? Sandra just texted me,” I say, trying not to sound accusing, as he turns off the faucet.
His jaw tenses, and he clenches his fists. Anger and hatred are apparent on his face.
“He's dead to me,” he says brusquely. I sit there in disbelief. My lips part, but I can’t think of a response.
He climbs into bed, ignoring me. He lays down, but I can’t. I won’t. I wait a moment, trying to collect my thoughts and shift on the bed to be closer to him.
“I need you to tell me.” I say quietly, the somber tone reflecting the air surrounding us.
“I can’t,” he says and then rolls onto his side, away from me. I suck in a sharp breath.
“You’re not okay-”
“I know!” he yells. “Please, just drop it.” He almost whispers the last part.
My shoulders tremble as I struggle with right and wrong, giving and taking. His mother just passed. He’s physically and emotionally fucked up. I need to be here for him, but how can I be if he won’t tell me what’s going on in his head?
