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It was a huge relief to me.
It’s bad enough thatLivwent through those things. Even worse that she went through them as a child. Worse yet that it happened more than once. Absolutely appalling that she had no support from her mom.
Yes, it already enrages me to no end that someone hurt her like that. If anyone had hurt Rae that way, too, I don’t know what shape I’d be in right now. I might not have been able to take the online advice about resisting revenge.
Thankfully, I don’t have to find out. Rae is fine.
Glancing down at her aunt, I feel deep, deep sadness that she’s a different story.
I sigh lightly and close my eyes. All I can do is help her heal. Help her learn to be happy despite how much darkness she’s known.
Might take me a while.
But even if it takes me forever, I already know I won’t give up. Shedeserveshealing and happiness.
And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind forever with her.
*
When I wake up again later, she’s no longer asleep. In fact, I wake up because she’s tracing patterns on the front of my shirt with a fingertip.
She’s not freaking out. Not crying. Not tense. Just lying close to me and touching me like she’s completely comfortable, like I’m the most familiar thing in the world to her.
I wish I were. Wish I could tip her face up, kiss her slow and soft right on the mouth, get an easy smile from her rather than an outburst.
An outburst is exactly what I’d get, though, and then she would run.
Hell, I don’t want her moving an inch.
“Are you awake?” she whispers, startling me a little.
I clear my throat quietly. “Mmhmm.”Please don’t stop touching me. Please don’t.
Praise God, she doesn’t.
She doesn’t say anything else, either.
Since I was kind of expecting her to after her question, I ask, “You okay?”
The word, “Yeah,” is a breath against my shirt.
I give her a gentle squeeze with the arm I still have around her.
After I’ve relaxed again, she asks, “Did you call me‘baby’last night?”
Nervousness pricks at me because I know I did.
“Yeah,” I say.
She goes quiet again.
Even though she still hasn’t stopped tracing patterns on me, which makes me think she’s in a good place in her head, I ask, “Are you mad?”
Another breath of a word: “No.”
My nervousness fades, but now I’m touched by slight mystification. Is she really not bothered by it? What about the kisses I put on her? They were as innocent as the one she put on my cheek the other night, but they were still new, still very affectionate.
Maybe she’s coming around.
