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“I don't have a headache anymore.” Her cheeks get redder. Staring down at her, I can’t fucking believe she kept it all to herself. Hell, the very moment I had an inkling as to what was going on, I reached out to everyone I knew for help. She shouldn’t have to take this on herself. It’s eating her alive. She murmurs, “But I'm pretty embarrassed. I'm sorry for acting that way in front of you.”
“Don't be.” I lean down and kiss her forehead, brushing her hair out of the way. It’s only then, warm on her bed that I realize how fucking tired I am.
Renee smiles a little, but then the smile fades.
“Hey,” I whisper and then remind her, “I love you.”
She gives me a small smile and says, “I love you too.”
The light coming in through Renee's bedroom window is the kind of late-December light that reminds me of the days before Christmas break in school. It reminds me of feeling like I couldn't wait for the last class to get out so that Brody and I could go hang out at each other's houses. I was never worried about anything happening when I was at home, and I want Renee to have that, too. It's a little different now, but there's no reason she and her mom can't have peace in their lives.
There's no reason at all that Renee can't live in her own place without somebody coming to the door in the middle of the night and acting like a violent animal.
I wait for her to be ready. There's still snow outside on the ground, which is a sight that nobody in Beaufort can count on seeing every year. It seems like a hopeful sign. If Beaufort can have this much snow in a single December, then Renee and I can make it. I can help her with what she's going through.
“I can't help thinking that it was my fault,” she whispers, like it’s a secret. Then she told me everything. Half of me thinks she thought I’d run. That her baggage was too much. But I’ve fallen for her head over feet and there’s nothing she could say that would make me run. Not when I have all of her. I never want to let her go.
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her, brushing the hair from her face. The bed creaks as I lay down next to her. She makes room under the covers for me.
“I mean...she kept going back to him. Every time she'd leave, he would convince her to come back, and she always said that she was doing it for me.” I hold her closer, and she presses herself against me, letting me hold her, my front to her back.
I wish I knew how much she was hurting.
“That doesn't mean it was your fault. It means she loves you, and she didn't have any better options. Or she thought she didn't.”
“It feels like my fault sometimes,” Renee says, just above a whisper. “Feels like she could have had a better life if I had just...convinced her that I'd be okay, maybe.”
“It's not your fault,” I promise her. “I have to tell you something.” My heart pounds with worry.
“What?”
“My parents drove down today.” I don’t tell her it’s because I messaged my dad. I don’t tell her more than I need to, just for the moment.
She stiffens slightly but then relaxes. “If you have to go, that’s okay.”
“Kind of the opposite of that,” I manage. “I know it's not Christmas, but they'd love to meet you.”
“I don’t know that right now?—”
“I told my dad. He’s a cop, Renee. He can help.” She goes still, staring straight ahead. “They…want to help.” I spit it out, even though I know she might not like it. “They just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“What did you tell them?” she asks, still beside me.
“That I needed help and that I love you.”
The bed groans as she looks over her shoulder at me. Her eyes meet mine and a mix of emotions stare back at me. “I told them I love you,” I repeat.
Renee wrinkles her nose attempting to make things lighter when the topic is so fucking heavy. “Did you tell them I’m a wreck?”
“You're not a wreck,” I whisper back and kiss her. When I pull back her eyes are still closed so I kiss her again.
“Just tell me you love me,” I tell her.
“I love you.” Her eyes still closed.
“Now tell me you’ll let me handle this,” I say, and she opens her eyes then.
I can practically hear her heart pounding.
