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Sem moves to stand in front of me, and he crouches down, his eyes meeting mine. “Wanted me to check your arms and legs, man.”
I clench my jaw, breathing heavily through my nose, and look away. Can’t look too long at those blue eyes. So much likehis.
“Shit,” Sem mutters, and then he stands up. He glances around the apartment, shaking his head, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. And I’m all alone. Again. I’ll always be alone.
I didn’t have to be. But I chose this, didn't I?
He'd said he loved me. Or was I just imagining that? But he still must care because he sent someone to check in on me. He has to still feel something for me. Right?
A tear slips down my cheek, and suddenly I’m sobbing, my entire body shaking. It’s messy and ugly, but I can’t stop the flood. Just clutch at my chest, hold onto my stomach as I curl up on the couch, and ride through it.
When my tears finally stop, when my body is drained, and when I finally manage to swallow the hallow moans wrenched from my soul, I hear another gentle knock on the door. And when I don’t answer, don’t call for anyone to come in, the handle turns.
And he’s here.
He’s here.
He’s the sunshine obliterating my shadows.
“Whit,” Caleb inhales softly, his voice the gentlest of balms on my bruised heart.
I glance up at him from where I’m cradling myself on the couch, and even though I want to move, I’m afraid that he’ll disappear if I do.
So, I just let him approach me, his eyes moving around the apartment, taking in the wreck that’s my life now.
And I’m ashamed. For so many reasons.
“Whit,” he says, his voice cracking.
He kneels in front of me, his hands on his thighs, and I meet his eyes. He looks tired, with purple rings under his blue eyes, but he looks so good. So damn good.
I lick my cracked lips and exhale shakily.
“Sem said you wouldn’t let him see,” he says, his fists clutched on his thighs. “Can I?”
I blink up at him, and when I don’t respond, he reaches over and pulls my shirt sleeves up. His breath comes out on a shaky exhale at finding nothing there.
He has no idea how hard that was. I did it for him.
I did it for you.
“I need to check your legs now,” he says, and then he gently tugs my pants down, exposing my thighs. He’s careful not to touch my skin, and I notice it. Notice how disgusted he must be with me. I'm rotting from the inside out.
His eyes sweep over my scars, but when he discovers nothing new, he pulls my pants back up, rubbing a hand over his face in relief.
“Good. That’s good.”
I watch him, drinking him up. God. I need him.
How can I live without him?
He looks around the apartment and then stands, moving to pick up the trash littering the counters, and I watch him do it. Watch as he runs the dishwasher, wipes down the counters, and then runs a load of laundry.
I’m gasping for breath now, still lying on the couch, tears streaming down my face. How is there anything left inside of me? I’m empty. Hollow.
Caleb stops in front of me, and he crouches down next to me, his fists clutched tightly as if he’s preventing himself from reaching out and touching me.
Don’t blame him. I wouldn’t touch me either.
