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Instinctively Colin knew he didn’t need to talk, just to let her cry. He placed his warm hand on her head, feeling her shiny red hair chilly from the outside air, and stroked her steadily. Lending her his strength as she let it out. Her arms went up and around his waist and she snuggled into him closer, her tears now wetting his t-shirt.
Still, Colin stroked Olivia’s hair, waiting. Unwilling to push this woman, who has been through so much that God only knew what hurt she hid away deep inside. A place he was determined to crawl his way in and share in with her. However, knowing if he exercised his control and forced those secrets from her too soon, she would never forgive him.
Emotionally, this would have to be on her terms. He decided then and there to always be her emotional safe space.
I’ll take your tears, amor.
Colin made a soft sound and his chest tightened painfully as he realized he loved this woman too soon. And that was the true reason he hadn’t wanted to have sex with her right away. He knew this woman was special. Knew it the first time he met her.
He stiffened when his mother’s words suddenly echoed in his brain. “A man always knows when it’s love. It doesn’t take long, mijo,” she’d said, when he asked her about love when he’d had his first date. When he realized he wasn’t normal sexually like the other boys. He was so confused as to why he didn’t just want to kiss the girl he’d been with. He wanted to take control, slap her, make her gasp, make her acknowledge he was undeniably the center of her world in that moment. Craved that startled look in her eye when she realized what he could do to her. How he could make her feel.
Putting that memory away, he concentrated on the woman at his feet.
Olivia sniffled, looking up at him, raw pain etched her features, plain as day for him to read.
“My mom,” she said sadly. He put his glasses down on the table to lean forward and press his lips to her forehead, breathing in her scent.
“She was the last person to brush my hair. Mom did my hair every single morning and at night before bed. She used to put my hair up in pigtails and called me Pippy Long stockings. Sh-she was so proud of my hair. Proud of me. I don’t think anyone’s been proud of me since her,” her voice cracked as her haunted eyes stared up at him, swimming in tears that seemed like they would never end.
He made a soft encouraging sound as he cocked his head at her, nodding slightly, willing her to continue.
“After she died, I never let anyone else brush my hair again. I felt like that was the only thing tying me to her after her death,” Olivia paused, taking a deep breath. Shuddering at the force of the memories. “The night her and my dad were killed by a drunk driver was my homecoming dance for high school. She had done my hair in this elaborate style. Mom and dad decided to go on a rare date when it happened…the accident,” she sniffed again. Her misery was plain as day on her face.
Jesus, he thought.
Colin made another encouraging sound and placed his hand on her cheek, pressing gently, his eyes softening.
“And I kept my hair like that until their funeral, I wanted her to feel like she’d done my hair for such an important ceremony. I looked absolutely horrible, but it was the last gift I could ever give her, her having done her daughter's hair for her funeral,” Olivia said. Her head once more fell to his lap and went still. Her tears receded, probably because she physically couldn’t cry anymore.
“Come here, baby,” Colin leaned forward, grasping her under her arms and pulling her up to him. Her legs curled under her, and she slumped against him as he held her tight. He took a minute to breathe deeply and settled himself, giving her space and warmth before he spoke.
“I know that was hard to share…I’m so thankful you trusted me enough to tell me. I’m so sorry I triggered you; I never would have done it if I’d known. I hope you know that,” he said in his smooth voice. Pleased when he felt her tiny nod under his chin. He stayed there like that with her, stroking his hand down her back and side, his other hand holding hers.
Olivia eventually stirred, tilting her head up to look at him, resting her head against his shoulder.
“I miss my mom too,” Colin said softly, giving her a reassuring smile. She blinked at him in surprise. Staying quiet, just accepting his admission.
He became quiet himself, not quite believing what he just shared with her.
“Yeah?” she whispered. Her eyes were flickering between his, and he was taken aback once again how startling her eyes were.
“Yeah, so much,” Colin rumbled in his deep voice, lost in her.
Colin placed his hand on Olivia’s neck, his thumb caressing the vein there. Just looking at her, feeling his heart squeeze painfully. Acknowledging that he had the feeling, he just didn’t know if he was ready, despite years of therapy. He barely knew her, but she called to him that night he was out in the storm, ready to end it all over guilt. He’d caught a glimpse of her red hair in the window of the diner, drawing him in.
Is this love? This painful unnerving feeling? he felt like a moth to a flame and Jesus, was he scared of being burned.
“Are we ok, now?” he whispered, not breaking eye contact with her. Olivia nodded slowly and he swallowed before pressing.
“Would you like me to help you with that? With brushing your hair?” Colin asked, his finger still stroking slowly but firmly. “You let me blow dry these gorgeous locks…that’s a little trust between us starting right there, right?” he said softly, his fingers lightly brushing the ends of her hair lightly.
It wasn’t lost on him that she let him touch her hair, blow dry it, thread his fingers through it and even pull it during sex. But the boundary was drawn firmly as to brushing and manipulating the strands. Colin desperately wanted Olivia to know that he recognized the difference. That he paid attention to things like that, and he cared enough about her to consider her in that way.
Colin knew from therapy that triggers really had no definite rhyme or reason, and he stored this away in his brain as he waited for her response. He waited patiently as Olivia held his stare. A heartbeat…ten heart beats…twenty…
“Yes,” Olivia said softly. “I can try, but I won’t promise anything.”
He nodded his head, understanding immediately. She gracefully got off his lap, glancing at him, clearly embarrassed at being vulnerable. He smiled gently up at her before standing up.
