8
Elle and I have been staring at each other for a while now. She stares down at me from her front window, her arms wrapped around her chest like she’s trying to protect herself. She’s putting up those walls again, and I’m kicking myself that I caused it. I can see her mouth moving; she’s obviously talking to Shay. She seems calm, but keeps shaking her head. I hope he’s telling her whatever the hell she wants to know.
I absolutely hate myself for lying to her, for deceiving her during our whole relationship. The secret phone calls, the mock appointments, the excuses about needing to go to the library and meet with professors; every lie has been slowly tearing me up on the inside.
She had a nightmare tonight because of me, because of what I told her, and now she’s hurting because of me and my web of deceit.
All of a sudden she disappears from sight and moments later I see Shay storming out of the building towards me.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I meet him on the sidewalk.
“She wanted answers. I tried to give them to her, but she’s hurting, man. She’s well and truly broken now, and I hate that we’ve done this to her.” He stares at the ground, shaking his head in disgust.
“I’m going up there,” I say, rushing past him as I stride towards the building door.
“Brax?” Shay calls out to me. I look back at him. “Tell her everything, the whole truth. She needs to hear it if she’s ever going to get over this. If you guys are going to get over this.”
“I’ve been ripped apart. I’m an open f**king book now. She can ask me any damn thing she likes, and I’ll tell her straight.” I’m kicking myself for not staying and explaining myself. “I’m not going to lose her over this.”
“Go do whatever you have to. Beg, plead, get down on your bloody knees, I don’t f**king care. Just fix this. That girl is broken and is heading for a breakdown. Get up there!” He shouts the last word, spurring me into action.
I take the stairs two at a time, not able to move quick enough to get back to my girl. I’m nervous as all hell that she’ll turn me away if she’ll even come to the door. My heart is in my throat when I reach the front door. Our front door. I’m warring within myself on how to approach this. Do I go in all guns blazing and make her listen to me? Or do I just let her ask me questions when she is ready?
Before I have time to even consider what to do, I’m knocking on the door, waiting for Elle to answer. A minute goes by, and I’m still standing outside. It’s only been ten minutes, so there is no way she can be asleep. Shay said she was a mess when he left, so I’m not going to stand here doing nothing when I know she’s inside, needing me. Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I open the door.
Walking in, I can’t see Elle in the living room, so I slowly make my way through the kitchen, stopping when I find the bedroom door closed. Elle hates sleeping with the door closed; it is something that she is really particular about.
“Elle?” I call out, hoping she’ll answer me, yell at me, at least give me some indication she is okay.
“Darlin’?” I inch the bedroom door open to see our bed still unmade. The memory of making love to Elle only a few hours ago in that bed is still so fresh. Her crying out my name as we came together is something that never fails to blow my mind, and something I always remember.
I hear water running in the bathroom, and my resolve breaks the moment I hear her sobbing from the shower. Screw playing the waiting game!
Rushing into the bathroom, I see her hugging her legs, sitting on the shower floor, her wet hair clinging to her body as the water runs over her. I stride into the shower room fully clothed, and sit down beside her before lifting her up into my lap and wrapping my arms around her. She barely raises her head before flinging her arms around my neck and crying into my chest.
In this moment, I feel like I’m the one who has been shot. My heart is aching for her, wishing I could take away all of her pain.
We sit in the shower for what seems like hours. It feels like time stands still as Elle and I hide away from the big bad world around us. Reaching up, I turn the shower off just as it starts to turn cold. I use one arm to brace myself against the wall and stand up, carrying her out of the shower as she clings to me, not wanting to let go even for a second. Grabbing towels from the towel rail, I wrap one around her shoulders and another around my chest. I walk through the bedroom and into the kitchen, putting her down on the kitchen counter and positioning myself between her legs as I start to dry her.
Her whole body starts to shake, so I pull her close to me again. Her shoulders are slumped over, and she grabs my shirt, gripping so tight that her knuckles are almost white with strain. Once the shaking subsides, I shift back, placing my fingers under her chin so that her eyes meet mine. Her eyes are red and puffy, like she’s been crying for days.
I’ve never seen her like this. So low, so broken, so shut down.
“Baby, let me look after you. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but tonight I want to get you out of these wet clothes, wrap you up in my arms, and look after you. Will you let me do that, hon? I need you to let me help you.”
Unable to form words, Elle slowly nods, never once dropping her gaze. I strip her wet tank top off her, wrapping her towel around her chest as I pull her off the counter, carefully placing her feet on the kitchen floor. I yank her shorts down her still wet legs until she’s standing naked and exposed in front of me.
There is nothing sexual about this moment.
I take her hand and lead her into our bedroom, walking over to her drawers and pulling out a new top and pajama pants for her. I kneel down in front of her, lifting her feet one at a time as I put her legs into the pants and pull them back up to her waist. Not once has she lifted her head. She appears mesmerized by my every move.
Leading her over to the bed, I sit down on the edge and pull her into my lap as I hold the tank top in front of her. She puts her arms inside the top, and I pull it the rest of the way down her body, then I grab the towel and start drying her hair. I’m taking my time, wanting her to feel cherished and adored, hoping she’ll see the sincerity in my actions and not just my words. I wrap my arms around her and carry her into our bed.
“I’ll just be a minute, sweetheart,” I murmur, placing a tender kiss her forehead. I make my way into the bathroom, stripping off my wet clothes and wrapping a towel around my waist. Walking back into the bedroom, I grab a pair of boxers from the closet and put them on before crawling into bed beside her.