I’m still trying, the little shards of glass lining my throat and pushing down into my chest, I’m on fire. Burning from the inside out. Images flash through my mind, blood and pain, and I try to push them away. I fall off the couch onto my hands and knees, the images flooding in too fast to fight off.
He’s kneeling in front of me, his face in front of mine. His lips are moving, but all I can hear is ragged moaning and the frenzied beating of my own heart. It escalates, almost screaming, as the images in my mind batter me like a hurricane. I keep trying to drag in air, but I can’t keep it up. My heart hammering in my ears, the screaming, his face in front of me, lips moving, tears coursing through the five o’clock shadow on his cheek.
I feel myself crumble to the floor, and curl into a ball. It’s never going to end.
Then suddenly there’s air. Even through the shards of glass I get a little more in. I hang onto that, rolling back to my knees, dragging in more air, and the sound of my heartbeat fades just enough for me to realize the screaming is me. There’s so much pain. I’m so full of it, I can’t feel anything else. It’s pushing out from the inside. Filling me up until there’s nothing left that doesn’t feel it. I want to die. Death can’t hurt this much. Nothing can.
Then there’s more air, and a little more. My sobs are uncontrollable, an inhuman wail tearing out of me in between gasps. I feel his arms around me, as he pulls me into his lap on the floor, his strong arms wrapped around me so tight, squeezing me in, holding the pieces of me together. His face is pressed tight against mine, his stubble prickly against my skin, his lips so close I can feel them moving next to my ear. I can hear him now, and I wish I couldn’t, “Oh my God, Baby, please. Just breathe. It’s okay, you’re safe. Please stop crying. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I pushed you,” he sounds broken, his voice ragged and hitching in the middle of words. I know he’s crying too, and I hate myself a tiny bit more. “Please, Bay. Please stop. I don’t know how to help you. Oh my God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bayleigh.”
CHAPTER 7
Deep breaths are coming easier. I’m down to light sniffling and hiccups. He’s still holding me, sitting in the floor, his back against the front of the couch, wrapped around me like he’ll never let me go. He stopped begging and apologizing when I finally managed to stop the wailing. I wish I could have stopped it sooner. I hate that I brought him pain.
He hasn’t moved in a while, but I know he’s awake because he wouldn’t still be holding on so tight if he wasn’t.
I raise my head and he lifts his as well. His face is red and blotchy, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. I can only imagine what I look like. The corners of his mouth lift in a sad smile. “Are you back?” he asks quietly.
“Yes, I’m okay. I’m so sorry,” I try to push every emotion I’m feeling into my words. It doesn’t seem like enough.
He pulls my head down onto his shoulder, just holding me there, “Don’t you ever apologize to me again. Never again, Bayleigh. I can’t believe I did that to you,” he says, voice pleading. “I didn’t know. I just… I didn’t know, Bayleigh. I’m so sorry.”
I lift my head again, raising one hand to his cheek and pulling his face to mine, “You didn’t do that to me, Jace. I didn’t know it would happen either, it never has before. The things that hurt me have nothing to do with you. You didn’t do it.”
He closes his eyes, swallows hard, “B-but I pushed you. I wouldn’t let you go. I didn’t know it would be that bad.” He reaches up covering my hand where it lays against his cheek. He grips it, holding it still, and turns his face into my hand, kissing my palm. He pulls my hand down into my lap, lacing his fingers into mine. “Please forgive me, Bayleigh,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes on our intertwined fingers.
“There’s nothing for me to forgive you for, Jace. You were trying to help. I know that. You know that.”
He nods. “I’m not sure that counts when I make everything worse though.”
“Stop that. You didn’t make it worse. It happened, and you did help me. You didn’t leave me. You stayed, and you held me together when I was falling apart. Thank you.” He starts to protest, and I cut him off. “Thank you, Jace. For being here.”
He looks at me for a long moment, then nods, “You’re welcome.”
“Okay, now that I’m sure you can’t feel your legs, it’s time to get up,” I say, attempting to lighten the situation. He smiles, a real smile, “Yeah, I’m not sure they’ll ever get feeling back.”
I very carefully extricate myself from his arms, and wince when he uses his hands to straighten his legs out, his face stoic, while pain emanates from him. Knowing he doesn’t want me to see it, I offer to go make a pot of coffee.
“I shall be forever in your debt,” he jokes.
I take a detour to the bathroom before going to make coffee, and wish I hadn’t. I look awful. Easily ten years older than I did a little while ago. My face is even more blotchy than his and my eyes are so swollen that you’d think someone punched me. It is what it is.
I step out and peek back into the living room when I hear a groan. He’s on his knees, his hands on the couch, obviously trying to pull himself up to standing. I know he doesn’t want help so I go to the kitchen and put the coffee on.
It’s a good ten minutes later when he walks into the kitchen. I set a mug of coffee in front of one of the stools, then set my own next to it. I sit down and he pulls his coffee to him, taking a long drink before setting it back down. “I think I’m going to stand for a little while,” he says.
“I’m sorry you’re sore. I wish it hadn’t taken so long for me to calm down.”
“What did I say, Tiny? You don’t apologize to me. I’ll be fine,” he says.
“Jace Morris, I have my own feelings, my own thoughts, and if sorry is what I’m feeling, I will apologize.” I try to say it light hearted, but it comes out serious.
He puts his hands in the air with mock fear, “Yes ma’am. I don’t have to like it though.”
“No, I guess that’s fair,” I smile before taking a drink of my coffee. “I guess we can focus on the silver lining of this little fiasco,” I think aloud.
“What the hell would that be?” he asks gruffly.
“Now we know, for sure, that I need those anti-anxiety meds they called in,” I laugh, trying hard to mean it.
He sits down next to me, placing his hand on my thigh and squeezing gently. “Bayleigh, you don’t have to take them if you don’t want to. It’s your choice, and that’s never going to happen again.”
“How do you know? It could happen again. I had no control over it. I thought I was dying,” I say. “I wanted to die.”
“Don’t say that. You can’t die.” He stares at me until I nod. “I can say that because I am never, ever, going to push you again, and I won’t let anyone else push you either. You were doing fine with everything. You were dealing with everything just fine until I tried to make you talk. I shouldn’t have done that, and I promise I’ll never do it again.” His words are so quiet, but the sincerity in them is almost palpable.
“Please don’t promise that, Jace.”
He searches my face with his eyes, “Why not? That’s all I’ve got. If I could go back and make it never happen, I would. I can’t though, so promising I’ll never do it again is all I have to offer, even if it’s not enough.”
“I don’t want the promise because you were right all along. I wasn’t dealing with anything. I learned that today, for sure. I was just pushing it down, pushing it away, hiding from it. That’s a whole world apart from dealing with it.”
“No, that’s not true. You were fine and I should have let you do things your own way,” he insists.
“Jace, my way obviously isn’t working and you know it.”
He nods. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tiny. I don’t know how to help you.” There’s so much anguish in his eyes, it breaks my heart that I did this to him.
“I think I have a plan, if you’re willin
g to help me. A way to get better.”
“Name it. Just tell me how I can help you. I’ll make an appointment with a psychiatrist for you tomorrow, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. A support group, maybe? There have to be some around here.” He takes his phone out of his pocket to start looking.
“Slow down. Do you want to hear my plan?” I laugh.
“Yes, of course I do. I’m sorry. Plan away,” he says smiling.
“In the morning, if you would be so kind, we can go get the new meds. I’ll call the doctor and see how long they take to work, or if he has some suggestion for how to take the edge off of everything a little, so I can talk about it. Normally I would just have a couple of drinks or something, but I don’t think that’s a good idea with all the meds I’m on.”
“That’s a sound plan. And then while we’re waiting for the meds to work, we’ll find someone for you talk to that you feel comfortable with,” he says, nodding. “That’s a great plan, Tiny. We’ll get on it first thing.”
I don’t say anything. I want to say that I was hoping I could talk to him, but he seems so ready to pass me off. I can’t blame him really. I’m just his future sister-in-law’s best friend. He’s basically my babysitter. It occurs to me that I’m getting a little too attached, and I should reevaluate things. He’s not mine. I need to remember that. Not mine.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make your french fries. I’ll make them for you tomorrow. Do you want something to eat? I’ll make you an egg sandwich or something.”
“I’m really not hungry, Jace, but thank you. I think I’m going to take my meds and go to bed. I’m exhausted.”
“I’m really not hungry anymore either,” he says as I stand up. “I’ll boost the fire back up, it’s getting chilly in here.” I chug a little bottle of orange juice along with my pills as he goes into the dining room.
On my way upstairs I stop in the dining room doorway. “Goodnight, Jace.”
“Goodnight, Tiny. Rest well,” he says.
I go up to my room, the walk feeling like a three-mile hike. I’m completely drained, nothing left. I strip down to panties, grab a t-shirt and pull it over my head, not bothering with the light. I curl up in the blankets and glance at the clock. Nine thirty. No wonder I’m so tired. I shouldn’t be surprised; that’s the first time I’ve really cried since everything fell apart. He held me for such a long time. My last thought as I drift off to sleep is that he’s a Saint. He must be.
My eyes open in the darkness. Something woke me up. “Tiny?”
I can just make out his shape in the doorway. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”
“Can I ask you a really stupid question?” he asks, his voice weirdly shaky. I glance at the clock, twelve-oh-one.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes, “What’s up?”
“Can I sleep with you?” he asks.
Now I know I didn’t hear that right. “Huh?”
His shape moves closer and I hear rustling. “Not anything like that, just sleep. I feel like an idiot asking, but I can’t sleep. I keep coming up here to check on you, to make sure you’re okay. It’s stupid, I know,” he says, running a hand through his hair and sighing in frustration. “Never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you,” he says, turning to walk away.
“Jace. It’s not stupid, it’s sweet. You can sleep here if you want. I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m sure. We both need sleep, and there’s plenty of room.” I say. “Do you have a side?”
“A what?” he asks.
“A side. A certain side you have to sleep on when you’re not the only one in the bed?”
There’s a long pause, and I wonder if he’s changed his mind.
“Um, oh, that. No? Not really. I don’t think.”
“Climb in then.” The bed dips under his weight, and when he pulls the covers over himself I can feel the heat emanating from him. I lay down, curling up on my side again, facing away from him. I can hear him breathing as I drift off.
“Tiny?” he whispers.
“Yes?” I’m trying not to be annoyed, but I can barely keep my eyes open.
“Can I hold you? Just cuddle or whatever?” he sounds so nervous, so unsure. It’s so unlike him, it’s endearing. It would be amusing if I wasn’t so tired.
“Sure. If it helps you sleep, I’m all for it,” I answer.
Immediately I regret it. My t-shirt somehow shifted up my back in the process of getting comfortable and as soon as he wraps his arms around me his skin presses against my bare back and my eyes snap open. He’s so warm and solid. The skin to skin contact conjures images of last night and I stiffen as my body responds, resisting the urge to push into him.
In response to me tensing up, he stills. His hand hovers above my hip, close enough to feel the heat from his skin, but not actually touching me. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ll go back over there,” he says.
I grab his hand before he can take it away, pulling it across in front of me, and wrapping my arms around his forearm. “Don’t. Just stay,” I say.
He smells like rain. Like a thunderstorm coming in, and I take a deep breath. I feel him relax slowly, one muscle at a time, and I sink back into him. He tenses up, and I feel him hardening against me. He takes his hand away, reaching between us and adjusting himself, the back of his hand brushing against my ass through the silky material of my panties. He puts his arm back around me, changing his position slightly, and he’s not pressing against me anymore. I miss it.
I relax against him, and he pulls me closer, tighter to him. He pecks a kiss on the back of my neck, “Goodnight, Tiny,” he whispers, his voice raspy.
“Goodnight, Jace.”
“Fuck,” his whisper is harsh in my ear. He pulls his hand away from me slowly, as though trying not to disturb me. I look at the clock, four-forty-three.
He shifts, his other arm sliding out from under the pillow beneath my head, and I feel him hard against me again. I think it’s funny, and it makes me smile. “What’s wrong?”
“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I shouldn’t have come up here,” he says, exasperated.
“Why?” I ask.
“I can’t stop it. Every time you move in your sleep I get… aroused. I don’t mean to, I just can’t stop it. I feel like I’m molesting you,” he says.
I laugh. A deep belly laugh, and I can’t stop.
“That’s funny to you? I feel like a dirt bag,” he says. He’s serious. That sobers me right up.
“Can I ask you something, Jace?”
He hesitates, then rolls to his back, away from me. “Yeah?”
I roll over to face him. “Doesn’t this always happen when you sleep next to a woman? Is it just because it’s me that you’re so frustrated by it?”
“I don’t know,” he says.
“You can tell me. If it’s just because it’s me, it’s okay. I won’t be offended.” I’ll be heartbroken, but not offended.
He stares at the ceiling for a moment, then closes his eyes, “I don’t know.”
He thinks I’m too fragile to handle the truth. Okay, fine, that’s my answer then. “Well that’s a pretty clear answer in and of itself,” I say aloud. “You’re not molesting me just because your body responds to me. You don’t have to want someone for that to happen, and I know that. I’m not an idiot, and you don’t have to worry about me reading more into it. I’m well aware that night was a one-off thing. You really don’t have to worry about it.” I roll back over to my side, not sure if I’m more hurt that he doesn’t want me or that he doesn’t trust me enough to handle the truth. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him sleep with me. I can’t ignore that I have feelings for him, and I knew that was never going to be a thing. I may as well call myself ‘Misty’.
The bed moves as he shifts and I assume he’s getting out of bed. I miss him already. I am an idiot. His hand grabs my shoulder, and pulls me onto my back. He’s holding himself up on one elbow, his face hovering above mi
ne.
CHAPTER 8
“Don’t do that,” he says.
“Do what?” I sound huffy. I am huffy.
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he says, his midnight eyes intense.
“If you don’t like it, maybe you should try saying words yourself, Jace. I can put two and two together. I know I fell apart earlier, but it had nothing to do with you. I’m not going to turn into a blubbering mess just because you’re not interested, or because you’re disgusted with yourself for your body feeling something you don’t. Seriously. I can handle it, Jace. I’m not going to fall the fuck apart, stop acting like I am. Just tell the truth.”
Even in the darkness, I can see his features darken. Anger, frustration, annoyance, fly across his face in quick succession. “The truth? I’ve never told you anything else. When I say I don’t know, it’s because I don’t know, Bayleigh. You know enough about me, about my history, to know that I’m not some innocent kid. I’ve been around. The term man-whore definitely applies. I like women, I like sex. I’ve never been shy about it and I’ve never once led anyone on. I enjoy giving pleasure.” He takes a deep, ragged breath, his hand shoving through his hair, then dropping down to land on my ribcage.
“I’m careful. I’ve never gotten close enough to get tangled. I prefer one-night stands, or maybe an afternoon romp in the bathroom of a diner. God, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? It’s true though.”
“Okay, so that night was a one-time thing, like I said. I get it. That’s all you had to say. It’s not like I was attacking you. AND, you asked to come in here and sleep, I didn’t crawl into your bed, so I don’t know why you’re annoyed with me.” I say.
“I’m not annoyed with you, AND, I wasn’t finished. Just listen, okay?” I nod, annoyed. “I don’t know if I have a ‘side of the bed’ or if it’s always like this when sleeping next to a woman, because I’ve never done it. I’ve never stayed over. I don’t take women to my house because I don’t want to feel like an asshole when I ask them to leave. I sleep alone. When I go to their place, I lay there until they fall asleep, and then I leave. I’m not going to be there in the morning and I make sure they know it – before anything happens. I’m not the guy who runs out in the morning and gets breakfast for a woman. I’m not the kind of guy who even eats breakfast with a woman I’ve been with. I’m long gone by breakfast. I don’t do repeat performances because then women start to think that it’s more than it is, and it isn’t. I make sure they know it’s not going anywhere.”
Faith (Stregth Series Book 2) Page 7
