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He looks at his shoes before boring holes through me with his gaze. “I— I’m sorry, Bright. About your mom.”
“Thanks.” I look away. “It’s…” What else is there to say about the worst day of my life?
My head drops. I can’t do this… I can’t have that look of pity every time someone looks at me. Especially Elias.
“She was… incredible. I know it’s a stupid question, but how’re you holding up?”
“I’m holding it together with sheer will and Ranger determination.”
A finger under my chin lifts my face, and I see the sorrow in my eyes reflected in his. There are creases in the corners, and shadows looming below them. He looks tired; worry lines his mouth.
I cross my arms and fight the raw emotion in his eyes. They roam my face, searching.
“So, it’s shit, and you’re hanging on by a thread but too stubborn to say anything or ask for help?”
I’d be pissed if I had anything left in me besides the hollow feeling left by significant loss, the void of life ripping my world apart irreparably. I try to nod, his thumb and forefinger make that a stilted, jolting motion.
“Whatever you say.” I drop my gaze, breaking the intensity of his stare. “It’s not like we didn’t know it was coming.”
“Are you letting anyone in? Letting anyone help you?”
I glare at him. I don’t need a lesson from Braxton’s best friend about how to handle this shit sandwich. His mother is still alive, and he got years more with her than I got with mine. He can kiss my ass.
“Always so stubborn.” It’s as if he’s saying it to himself. He scrubs a hand down his face, the sound of his palm against his whiskers fills the room.
He looks down at me as I snake an arm past his waist, not touching him, and reach around for the door knob.
I give up and drop my eyes to his shoulder.
The mental effort it takes to spar with Eli is more than I have the capacity for. Not to mention the emotional requirements of keeping my guard up aren’t there for me to draw from.
He sees through me and always has. I can’t be transparent right now. I’m too raw, too vulnerable, and it’s not safe.
He’s not safe.
That’s not entirely true. He’s utterly trustworthy, but I don’t trust myself when it comes to him. And with my emotions this raw, there’s no way I can keep my heart safe.
I hardly trust myself when it comes to him when my walls are fortified.
With one last look I offer, “Well, this was... weird.” I shut my eyes and nod at the door behind him. “Thanks for coming by.”
“Don’t shut me out, Bright. I get it. You’re hurting, but let me help.”
The sigh that escapes me might as well come from my toes. “And how do you think you’re going to help me? You going to bring my mom back?” I lift my chin defiantly.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.” I pause, too tired for this shit. “Look. I get what you’re trying to do. Thanks and all, but…” I turn my back on him and take a step back to my sofa and my waiting vodka.
He grabs my wrist. I look from it back to him just as his mouth smashes down on mine. His arms wrap around me, one hand weaving into my long hair, tugging just enough that I open on a gasp. His tongue invades, and I’m overcome with sensation. His mouth is warm and tastes like mint and moves on mine with desperation.
He smells like soap and leather.
His jacket is cold against my skin and rustles against my sweatshirt.
It’s as if every sense I have has come to life
“Fuck, you taste good.” He plunders my mouth some more, pulling me into his tight embrace. I allow it. “Beautiful. Perfect.”
