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“Please look at me, Ava,” I whisper, begging, knowing our chances of surviving this will be so much better if she could just face me. See me.Feelme.
It takes too much courage of her part, and too much fear on mine, but she turns wearily. Looks at me. And her head starts to shake, tears brimming again. “I can’t do this.” She’s gone from the bathroom faster than my brain can compute what’s just happened.
“Ava,” I yell, begging my legs not to fail me as I run after her, chasing her down the stairs, reaching for her endlessly, but I grab thin air each time, missing her. Thin air. That’s what will become of me if she makes it out of this apartment.
Nothing.
Empty.
Dead.
I dig deep for some strength and seize her wrist, yanking her back. She’s facing me in a second, and I stagger back from the force of her frantic shove. But I don’t lose my grip. Ican’tlose my hold of her.
“No,” she cries out, hysterical. “Don’t touch me!” The state of her, the stateI’vemade of her, crucifies me.
“Ava, don’t do this.” I try to get my face close to hers, force her to see me. “Stop.”
Every muscle in her body seems to give, taking her down to the floor by my feet. “Please, don’t,” she begs. “Please, don’t make this harder.”
I look down at her, horrified. My God, what have I done? How have I managed to transform the fierce, sass-filled lady that I fell in love with into this? A shattered woman. A woman in despair.Broken.
Every reason for me to turn my back on my past, to bury it, is on her knees before me, sobbing her heart out.
I drop to the floor and grab her shuddering body, tugging her onto me, cradling her, hugging her, rocking her back and forth while praying into her hair.
“I’m sorry,” I choke, tears starting to fall. I cry for her. Not for me. I deserve this pain. Ava does not. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t deserve it,” I whisper, “but give me a chance. Ineedanother chance.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she sobs, hiding in my chest from our reality. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s doing it already. My trembles have calmed. My heart is steady. My delicate skin is relishing the friction of her all over me.
“Don’t run away from me again,” I order, though it’s gentle, and she sniffles, breaking away from me. My scar tingles under her gaze as I take her face and force her to look at me. I need her eyes. No matter if they’re full of hopelessness and not the fire I so love, I need them. Just to check she’s really here. Just to check she’s real. “I’m going to make this all right,” I vow. “I’m going to make you remember, Ava.”
Her look tells me she believes me. She should. I’ll never let her down again. I’ve been in various levels of hell. This is up there with the worst of them.
“Can you make me remember the conventional way?” she asks, totally serious. It brings the first smile to my face in too long. There’s nothing conventional about us. Never will be. I had my way, she had hers. And together, it worked. It’ll work again.
“I’m making it my mission objective,” I say with grit. “I’ll doanything.” My words seem to reach something inside of her, and her lips part as she scans my face. I hope she sees determination in my eyes, and I know she has when she falls into my chest and clings on like she needs me. As much as I need her. Even just a glimmer of hope would have charged me with resolve. This? How hard she’s holding me, how deep she’s snuggling? It’s more than a glimmer. It’s a lightning bolt. She’s healing me. Healingus.
I exhale, sinking my face into her hair, my arse beginning to go numb, but my heart feeling everything there is to feel. So much fucking love.
“Your bath will get cold,” she whispers.
“I’m comfy.” It’s a lie. My achy muscles are screaming.
“You need to eat as well. And that hand needs seeing to. Does it hurt?”
“Like hell.” And eat? My stomach turns at the mere thought.
“Come on.” She peels our skin apart as I moan my dismay. Yet I’m drained of the physical strength I need to keep her here. I should also be amenable to her clear desire to take care of me. It’s backward, not us, and I hate it. But... I’ll take anything I can get.
She offers her hand, looking down at me. It’s admirable, but we both know she couldn’t move me an inch, even when I’m useless. But I still accept, wincing my way up to standing, and let her unhurriedly lead the way to the bathroom, my eyes unmoving from our joined hands between us.
We enter, and I take it all in, wishing I could erase the horrid memories of this space, leaving only the amazing.
“In you get.”
I find her pointing at the tub—the giant tub that’s way too big for one person. The potential of soaking in it alone isn’t the only strange notion I’m dealing with. “Are you making demands?” I ask, unsure whether I quite like it or hate it. The dynamics of our relationship are shifting too fast for me to get used to.
“Sounds like it.” She’s indifferent, in a smug kind of way.
