AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I keep my head down as I stumble out of the club, and the tears won’t stop. Every time I think I get my emotions under control, one single thought starts the onslaught again. Standing in front of the club, I keep to myself as I order my ride.
But the minute I get inside the older woman’s blue station wagon, I remember that feeling I had earlier tonight with Adam. The softness in his eyes and how I was so sure there was a spark there when there wasn’t. Only to find out he is still too broken to see me.
Then we turn onto my street, and I remember that night he came to the book club, and I feel murdered by his betrayal again. He called mehis.He looked into my eyes and asked me to trust him. Touched me and took pleasure from my body like it was his to take, and I’m fuming with anger.
As she comes to a stop in front of my building, I feel almost too weak to even get out of the car.
“Thank you,” I reply with a sniffle as I tear open the door and stumble into the Laundromat. I hide my face from Gladys as I scurry toward my door.
Taking each step in a desperate race to get into my apartment, my safe space, myhome, I nearly miss the huddled mass sitting at the top of the stairs.
I let out a scream as I lock eyes with him.
“Sage? Jesus Christ.” Adam’s frantic voice fills my ears. I barely have a second to utter a word before he pulls me into his arms. And the tears return.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.
“I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice is raspy and tired sounding. It’s full of remorse.
As he pulls away from our hug, he holds my face in his hands and his brows fold inward at the sight of my tears. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”
First, I shake my head. Then, with a sob, I nod.
He did hurt me. And not just the slap across the face. The betrayal hurt. The name-calling. The attacking tone. Everything hurt.
For years, it all hurt so much and I swallowed that hurt like medicine. Taking every ounce of that pain in stride like I was supposed to because taking the pain in silence was the only way tobe good.
Any form of defense was an offense.
Adam’s soft touch brushes my hair out of my face and I wipe at my face with the back of my hand, but he grabs my wrist to stop me.
“Don’t wipe them away. Just cry. I’ve got you.”
With another sob, the tears continue to pour out. I barely register what’s happening as he unlocks the door and pulls me inside. We don’t stop at the kitchen or the living room. He takes me directly to the bathroom.
There he holds me against his chest. And I can sense how paralyzed he is with indecision. He has no clue what to do, but he also has no idea thatthisis all I need.
When my tears have stopped and my face feels raw and swollen, he gently pulls me away from his chest. Instead of speaking, he moves toward the large claw-foot tub and turns on the faucet, pouring lavender-scented bubbles under the stream of water and checking the temperature.
Then he delicately pulls me toward the tub and sits on the edge as he carefully pulls my dress over my head. And since my panties are still in his pocket, I’m fully naked before him.
His hands are on my hips, and his eyes are on my face. The quiet moment stretches wordlessly before he leads me to the water, holding my hand as I climb in, sinking quickly under the bubbles like it’s my safe haven.
He disappears for a moment, coming back with a washcloth. Instead of handing it to me, he dips it under the suds and uses it to gently wipe the tearstains from my cheeks. Then he squeezes the water over my head, dousing my hair with it.
And I just lie there, letting him dote on me, feeling entirely at peace because I can’t remember the last time anyone ever took care of me. And I might still be angry at him, but it’s impossible to tear myself away from his attention.
When his hand sinks under the surface, gently cleaning every inch of me, I let my eyes close. He runs the washcloth over my chest and down my belly, over my hips and across the length of each leg. Even giving his attention to each of my toes on both feet.
As his hand travels up the inside of my leg, my eyes open. But just as I expect him to touch me, he pulls his hand away. He wrings out the washcloth and drapes it over the side of the tub. Then he drops into a sitting position and rests his back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.
After a moment, he finally speaks.
“You were right. I fucking hate that you were right.”
“About what?” I whisper.
“I’ve followed the rules my entire life. I’ve always said what I’m supposed to say. I behaved the way I was supposed to behave. And now…I don’t know what the fuck to say half the time. I don’t even know who I am.”
