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That kinda pisses me off.
“Good,” he says, allowing me a moment to catch my breath. He doesn’t wait too long, though, and I hear him say, “Again.”
This time, he comes at me from behind, wrapping his big, strong arms around me in a bear hug. He pulls me along, showing me how easy it would be for a man of his size to overcome me and practically cart me off to wherever. I can’t breathe.
“Come on, Meg. Fight. Don’t let me win.”
Fear starts to spread through my entire body, and I start to wiggle. I try to twist and free my arms, but he just holds me that much tighter. My fear turns to anger. I’m suddenly very pissed off. I’m angry at Nick for showing me just how easy it is to overcome me, at the man who tried to hurt me last week and almost got away with it. I’m angry at everyone who has treated me as if I were broken and talked to me in that sad, pitiful voice. I’m angry at the world for showing me its ugly, dark side.
And I’m angry at…Josh.
I’m so fucking angry at the one man who vowed to always love and protect me. I’m livid that he broke that promise, that he left before we were truly able to live our life. I’m furious at the hand life has dealt me, at the pain and the sorrow. I’m outraged that I’m alone.
Suddenly, I’m crying. Big, fat angry tears slide down my face, but I can’t stop. I fight off my assailant, turning every ounce of anger that has been bubbling beneath the surface for so long onto the innocent man in front of me. I kick, I punch, and I fight.
And I scream.
“Why!” I bellow, swinging my arms wildly, feeling the strike of flesh beneath each blow. “Why did you leave? Everything was perfect, and then you just left! You took everything. You lied. You broke your promise. You died and I couldn’t do anything to stop it! You swore to always love me and you lied!” his words from that night – those final, heart-wrenching words – the ones that are repeated every night in my dreams – come back to me.
“You were wrong! It wasn’t supposed to be the end, and it was. You were wrong, Josh. Wrong.”
The tears pour from me like a faucet and all of my energy just seems to vanish. I’m tired, exhausted really, and that’s when I finally know the truth, something I’ve hidden from, fought, and ignored for the last two years.
Josh is never coming back.
Gazing down, realization slams into me like a semi. “Oh my God!” I bawl, noticing for the first time the blood. I’m straddling Nick on the mat, a steady stream of blood oozing from his nose and lip. His eyes are locked on mine, but it’s not fear or anger that I see.
It’s relief.
The same relief I feel sweep through my weary body.
He moves quickly, just as the humiliation starts to set in, and wraps his arms around me. I don’t even realize I’m crying again until I hear him. “Shhhh,” he coos, his hand gently on the side of my face in a comforting manner. “I’ve got you.”
And I know he does.
I cry against his shoulder, gripping his top as if it were a lifeline, as everything washes over me. It’s like losing Josh all over again, but I guess if I’m being honest, it’s more accurately like I’m finally accepting that he’s gone. I’ve carried it around with me, like a security blanket, but now I’m facing it – really staring it down, face-to-face. He’s not coming back.
Ever.
“I’m going to get up, okay?” he whispers gently, his hand still stroking my face. Unable to speak words, I just nod.
Nick stands up, me in his arms. I hear him holler for Rhenn, who helps gather up my bag, as well as Nick’s stuff, and follows us out the back. Nick sets me in his passenger seat, his nose no longer bleeding. He wipes the remaining blood off with the back of his hand and closes my door. He speaks to Rhenn for a moment before coming around and climbing into the driver’s seat.
Without saying a word, he takes me home.
I try to get out on my own accord, but Nick won’t have it. He meets me at the passenger door and instantly pulls me into his arms. He carries me up the steps and to the door, where he digs in my bag and retrieves my keys. I’m so grateful because I’m not sure I have the strength for the simplest of tasks right now.
Inside, he secures the front door before carrying me back to my bedroom. I feel the soft mattress beneath me and Nick’s arms disappear. Reflexively, I reach for him. “I’ll be right back,” he whispers before placing a kiss on my forehead. It’s unexpected, but a welcome comfort.
Nick returns just a few minutes later and sets a glass of water on the nightstand. He moves around to the opposite side of bed and climbs in, wrapping his arm around me. “You okay?” he asks softly, stroking my hair where it’s tucked behind my ear.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, actually.”
“Proud? How can you be proud of me? I beat the crap out of you and made you bleed,” I argue, though my words hold no bite.
“Because you just released two years worth of feelings that you’ve kept bottled up inside you.”
