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He pulls back, and I peek up at him, meeting his reddened, tear-filled gaze.
“It’s a trigger for me, okay?” I whisper shakily, forcing the words out, knowing it needs to be said. “Treating me like I’m not capable of giving consent—like I’m not competent. It makes me feel small and-and stupid.”
His eyes widen, and he’s shaking his head. “Sky, no, that’s not—”
I nod. “People have treated me like that my whole life because I’m autistic. You get that right? Even when they didn’t know what it was, they’ve been stripping me of my autonomy my entire fucking life.”
His lips part, shivering. “Sky, I’m so—”
Lifting my chin, I level him with a fierce stare. “I won’t let anyone treat me like that again. Least of all you, because… Because you’re better than that. You’re not that person.” Wiggling my arms out from beneath his crushing hold, I cup his scruffy cheeks and lift up on my toes so we’re at eye-level. It’s intense, but not as intense or painful as the ache in my chest. “I won’t let you be, and I won’t let you ruin this or regret us, because no one else has ever looked at me the way you do. Touched me the way you do. Held me the way you do.”
His face bunches up, as does mine.
“No one’s ever listened to me and talked to me the way you do. So to try and take all that from me, and become just like all the others?” My fingers flex, blunt nails biting into his face. “It hurts like nothing else. So much, I can’t breathe. I could handle it coming from anyone else, but I can’t handle it coming from you. So please, Nolan, please just….” I choke on a sob. “Don’t…don’t…”
Nolan clutches my cheeks when my voice fails, bringing our lips together. Against my mouth, he says, “Okay. Okay.”
“You make me feel normal,” I finally choke out in a rush.
He ducks down, meeting me on my level, hands clenching my face. “You are normal. Skyler, fuck, youarenormal. What are you…”
I sob, shaking my head.
“Baby,” he murmurs, wrapping me up in his arms. He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around him, burying my face in his shoulder. Carrying me toward the house, I’m vaguely aware of him shuffling me around to get the key in the door.
Heat blasts over us when we enter, the scent of pine and cedar washing over me. Nolan carries me a short ways, then sits down on what feels like a couch, with me in his lap.
Prying my head away from his shoulder, he cradles my cheeks, peering back at me through glassy green eyes. “I get it now.”
Jaw quivering, I nod. Tears streak down my face, and he uses his thumbs to brush them away.
“I wasn’t listening then. Not really. I didn’t…I didn’t know—”
“That I’m autistic?” I say dryly.
He chokes out a laugh. “No, no, sweetheart. I mean, I didn’t know…I didn’t realize what it must’ve felt like for you…” He frowns. “I’m really fucking all this up, aren’t I?”
I sniff and shrug, which just makes him smile wetly.
“I’m very protective of you,” he says solemnly. “And it’s…it’s not because I don’t think you’re competent or capable of taking care of yourself and making your own decisions. And it’s not because I regret us. I just…”
“But it is that, Nolan,” I whisper. “It feels like that.”
He frowns.
I look down, watching my reddened, chilled fingers fiddle with his collar. “I love when you get all possessive of me and take care of me—I never had that, so it’s…nice. But there’s a fine line between taking care of me, and thinking you know what’s best for me.”
Inhaling deeply, he nods. “You’re right.”
“Unless it’s when we’re having sex. Then you do know best.”
He coughs out a surprised laugh.
My mouth twists into a small grin and I peer up through my lashes. “But outside of sex, you need to trust that I know what I want. I know what I can handle. I know who I am and…I know who I want to be with.”
He nods, face serious. He flits his gaze down. “And that’s…that’s still me? Even after everything?”
I reach forward, nudging his chin up. “I told you. I’m still there.” I press a hand over his heart, then mine. “I’m still there.”
