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None of those thoughts will help me.
Focusing on all the ways I’ve let her down will only lead to pain.
But then the relief…
I sit up with a start, my chest heaving, my breathing erratic and my skin prickling.
“Fuck,” I hiss, jumping to my feet so I can begin pacing.
My head screams at me to do it.
To give into the pressures and fall back into old habits.
But my heart… that tells me something very different.
Refusing the former as an option, I take the stairs two at a time toward something—someone—who can distract me from my own issues.
I move through the Chapel silently in the hope I don’t wake her.
She might do nothing but sleep right now, but I figure she must need it.Only, the second I crack my bedroom door open, silence doesn’t greet me. Instead I’m met with loud, gut-wrenching sobs.
A huge, messy ball of emotion crawls up my throat as I rush inside.
“Red,” I breathe, forgetting all about her request for me to stop using it, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m standing with my knees pressed against my mattress, trying to decide what to do next.“Shit,” I whisper.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I discover that she’s not even aware that I’m here. She’s too lost in her grief.
Her head is in her hands, and her entire body is trembling.
Without thinking, I crawl onto the bed and wrap my arms around her tiny frame.She startles. Her entire body freezing as my warmth surrounds her.
“No,” she whimpers, finally dropping her hands from her face so she can attempt to fight me off.
Her tiny palms press against my chest, but she hasn’t got anywhere near the strength she’d need to make me release her.
“Stop, Red. Just stop. It’s okay,” I whisper, my lips beside her ear.
The fruity scent of her hair fills my nose, turning my previous cravings in an entirely different direction. But just like the relief I wanted earlier, I won’t allow myself to have this either.
“No,” she cries. “Nothing is okay.”
“Shush,” I soothe, shifting our position and lifting her onto my lap.
She fights again, but it’s pointless, and a couple of seconds later, she gives in and tucks her tear-soaked face into the crook of my neck.
I fucking hate feeling them, the evidence of her pain, almost as much as I love them.
Locking down my own needs, I focus on her.
“I’ve got you, Red. Everything is going to be okay.”
She shakes her head, refusing to believe my words but she doesn’t say anything else.
“I’m sorry for leaving you,” I whisper.
It was a risk. There are plenty of things she could use as a weapon against herself in both my bedroom and bathroom. But I didn’t think she’d do it again. Not so soon.
Her shame was palpable when I first found her and then cleaned her up. I was confident she wasn’t going to repeat those actions any time soon.
