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“Ready to go home?” he asks me and I scoot closer, lifting my legs over his thighs. “Ready.”
He laughs and puts one arm around my back, holding me to him. “I think I’ll stay right here,” I tell him, trusting him to keep me from falling.
I rest my head on his chest, snuggling in close. Every night no matter what, we always seem to end up in bed together. I love waking up and him holding me all night long. The nightmares seeming to be further and further away.
He still has them sometimes and it hurts me a million times worse than mine do. To see the pain in his eyes once he escapes them. No, he doesn’t escape them, he feels them for hours after.
Last night I found him on the floor in the bathroom asleep where he woke from one and I didn’t hear him.
It’s heart breaking and I wish I can take it from him.
The house comes into view and Isaac helps me slide off the horse. “I’m going to go put him away.”
“I will make some dinner.” I walk into the house, not able to resist looking out of the window at him brushing his horse.
I add the ground beef to the pan to start the tacos. I pick up my phone to start a new book, waiting for the meat to brown.
I try to read but I can’t take my eyes off his body, the way his body flexes with every movement. The way his hat is turned backwards, his shirt tight around his biceps, his jeans hugging his thighs.
I squeeze my legs together trying to control what I’m feeling. I want him and it’s scary for me to admit that.
What if he thinks I’m disgusting from the abuse I suffered? I can’t not think of that. Maybe my trauma is too much for someone to handle?
I rub my eyes, my heart heavy at my depressing thoughts.
I’m clean, all of my test results came back a few weeks ago. I never thought I would even want to be with a man again, but Isaac isn’t every man.
He is everything.
He walks towards the house and I hurry to plate everything so it’ll be ready for him when he comes in.
I set the food on the coffee table and I walk back to the kitchen grabbing a beer for him and wine for me.
He sets his boots by the door and his eyes immediately search me out. “Dinner is ready.”
He walks to me and sits down. “This smells amazing, baby.”
My stomach flips at him calling me baby. I will never get used to that. I hand him the sauce and take a bite of the taco turning on Criminal Minds - he is obsessed with it.
I can feel him staring at me. I peek over and give him a confused look. “You don’t have to take care of me, baby.”
“I love taking care of things like this. It’s my love language,” I say easily not even thinking of what I’m saying until I hear his sharp intake of breath.
I peek back at him, but did I not mean it?
No, I do love him. I think I fell in love with him when he never once left me in the hospital. Held my hand all night long so I wouldn’t be afraid. Held me when I cried, cleaned my wounds that were so gruesome, nurses ran out of the room. Held me all night trying to fight the nightmares for me.
I do love him.
I’m not exactly sure when it happened but it happened. Isaac sets his plate in front of us on the table and lifts me onto is lap. “I love you too, baby.”
I close my eyes letting his words wash over me like a balm, healing parts of me I didn’t know was fractured.
When I open my eyes, a tear rolls down my face. “I love you too, Isaac, more than anything.”
I kiss him hard, needing to be close to him, pouring everything I have into this kiss. He stands with me in his arms, walking with me to the bedroom.
I tighten my legs around him, his body holding mine up. I’m set gently onto the bed, with me looking up at him.
