Let Me Save You

by Samantha Wolfe

  I practically staggered to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, running it under warm water and wringing it out, then taking it back to the bed. Sydney grumbled a protest as I pulled the covers off of her. I laughed as she glared at me, but her face softened when I spread her legs and wiped her pussy clean with gentle strokes, a soft sigh falling from her lips at the attention I lavished on her. I took the cloth back into the bathroom then returned to my bed and crawled under the covers next to her. I rolled her away from me and pulled her backward against my chest, clutching her tightly to me.

  "Say you'll never leave me. Say you'll always be mine," I whispered, the threat of tears suddenly making my eyes burn. I could feel a flood of emotions welling up inside me.

  "I'll never leave you, and I'll always be yours." Her voice came out thick and emotional, and I knew she felt it too. This connection that transcended the physical and brought our hearts together was overwhelming to contemplate. I latched onto to her words, willing them to chase my fears and insecurities away.

  "I love you, Sydney Harper, ever since the moment that I first saw you." I couldn't hold back my tears any longer, and they fell from my eyes as I buried my face into her hair.

  "I love you too, Jensen Hayes. I knew it the first time you looked at me." I could hear the trembling in her voice, and when I reached up to touch her face, I could feel hot tears running down her cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut and just let myself feel, let the emotions take over, really let her love in for the first time. I thought it would lessen my fears, make me feel secure with us and with myself, but it only made it worse. I felt her drift off to sleep, her breathing becoming slow and even. I was left weeping alone with her in my arms, feeling a deep hole of fear and pain inside me, knowing that when she finally realized I wasn't good enough for her, that I would rather die than live without her. I felt like I was living on borrowed time as I waited for the inevitable.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sydney

  Jensen seemed oddly withdrawn the next morning. I kept catching him looking at me with sad eyes that I just didn't understand after what we had shared and felt together last night. Maybe he had another nightmare. They tended to make him melancholy and quiet afterwords. When I noticed him standing in the bathroom doorway looking at me like he had lost his puppy while I was fixing my hair, I finally couldn't take it anymore.

  "Who died?" I asked in exasperation. His face looked startled, and then his eyes filled with bitter pain. Oh my God, I'm a heartless bitch. He turned and walked away. I chased after him, feeling guilt and shame wash over me.

  "Jensen, wait," I said just as he got to the doorway of his room. He turned to look at me, his face an expressionless mask as he shut himself off from me. It stung to see him do that, but I deserved it.

  "I'm so sorry," I whispered as tears welled up in my eyes. "That was horrible and thoughtless. I didn't mean to..." My voice trailed off into a sob of remorse. His face softened as he watched me. "I'm sorry," I repeated, desperate for him to forgive me. I bowed my head and squeezed my eyes closed, the tears coursing down my face now.

  "Sydney," Jensen whispered my name gently from right in front of me. I hadn't even realized he had approached me. I felt his fingers under my chin as he lifted my face up towards his. I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with sweet forgiveness in his eyes.

  "I'm..." I began. He stopped my words with a soft touch of his lips on mine.

  "Shh." He placed his finger across my lips when I tried to speak again. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean to hurt me." He wrapped his strong arms around me and held me close.

  "I'm sorry," I repeated into the soft cotton of his T-shirt. He snorted suddenly.

  "I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't know how to stop apologizing."

  I pulled away and looked up into his smiling face, feeling relief as I smiled back at him.

  "Are you alright?" I asked. "You seem out of sorts this morning. Did you have a nightmare last night?" He paused and looked over my head for a moment, his face going blank for just a second.

  "Yeah," he finally answered before meeting my eyes again with a small tight smile. I had this overwhelming feeling that something more was going on, but he stepped away from me and changed the subject before I could ask him about it.

  "Hurry up, baby," he said as he turned toward the door. "I'll buy you a coffee on the way to work again. Okay?"

  I nodded and watched him disappear down the stairs with a nagging worry inside me. He didn't seem like himself today. It must have been one hell of nightmare last night. I was surprised that he didn't wake me up during it. He kept so much of his pain to himself, and I wished he would share more with me. I knew I could help him if he just let me. I grabbed my shoes, slipped them on, and headed downstairs.

  I found him standing in his kitchen, looking out the window with his back toward me. He turned and looked at me, an almost empty jug of orange juice in his hand. For a fraction of a second, I swear his face looked lost and alone, but the smile that broke across his face as his eyes met mine, made me doubt what I had seen.

  "I'm ready," I announced as he chugged down the rest of his juice. I took the jug from him and went to throw it away for him under the sink. I pulled the trash bin out to put the jug in it and froze when I saw multiple empty bottles of alcohol piled up in it. Most of them were large bottles of vodka. "Jensen?" I looked at him with concern. He looked over at me and then at the bottles. A look of shame filled his face.

  "That's from last week," he said quietly as he stared at the floor. "I haven't touched any since Friday."

  I stepped up close to him and took his face in my hands. "What did you do to yourself without me?"

  "I couldn't sleep without having nightmares about hurting you," he answered without inflection, still not looking at me.

  "You're not still having nightmares like that anymore, are you?"

  "Not about you." He shook his head and finally looked at me again. "I don't have them as much when I hold you at night."

  "Then you should hold me every night."

  "I should hold you all the time," he whispered, a small smile playing across his lips. He pulled me into an embrace, and I hugged him back hard.

  "I wish you could," I said softly and looked up at him. He leaned in and kissed me, slowly at first, then a desperate hunger seemed to take over, and he was suddenly devouring my mouth with his. My body responded almost immediately with a sudden intense desire for him. I pushed my whole body against him, my hand coming up to press against his growing erection. He groaned into my mouth as I squeezed him gently through the fabric of his jeans. He tasted so good, and I wanted him right now. I didn't even care if I was late for work.

  "We'll be late," he whispered to me, his eyes bright and filled with lust, the melancholy from earlier long gone. I practically sighed with relief that he was back with me and not lost in his own head anymore.

  "We can skip stopping for coffee," I suggested breathlessly with a wicked smile. "But we'll have to make it quick."

  With a low growl, Jensen untied my scrub pants and push them down out of his way along with my panties. He moved me over to his kitchen table to bend me over it. He unzipped his jeans, pulled out his stiff erection, and proceeded to fuck me hard and fast from behind until we were both gasping for breath, and I was screaming his name as a sudden orgasm hit me. He followed a moment later with his own release, grunting and growling out his pleasure into me. It felt so fucking good.

  Afterwords, he cleaned me up, dragged my pants up, and pulled my scrub top down into place. He kissed me again as he cradled my face between his palms. "I love you so much, baby," he whispered to me, his eyes soft and filled with emotion. I closed my eyes as a wave of pleasure flooded through me at his words.

  "I love you," I answered with a shaking voice. "I can't ever get enough of you."

  "Me too," he said, then stepped away from me to look at the clock on the wall. "Fuck! We've got to go, like right fucking now."

&nbs
p; I grabbed my purse off the table, and we hurried out the door to his truck. I climbed in next to him feeling exhilarated. "If we did that every day, I'd never need coffee again," I said with a huge grin. He looked at me with an answering smile as he backed out of the driveway, his eyes lit up in wicked amusement.

  "If coffee felt like that, I'd start drinking that shit everyday whether I liked it or not," he replied with a laugh. It was good to see him smiling, and I was glad I could make that happen. Hopefully, his good mood would last through the rest of the day until I could be with him again.

  David showed up right at noon to pick me up for lunch. I had shown him around really quick before we left, much to the pleasure of all my female co-workers. He was dressed in a light-blue T-shirt and jeans, but you'd think he was wandering around shirtless, from the way all the women stared at him. I always knew he was handsome with his messy dark curls, easy smile, and piercing blue eyes, but he had always been like a brother to me. It probably stemmed from the way we had met. He was there to help take care of me in one of the darkest times of my life and been there to support me ever since. He was family.

  I caught the occasional wry twist of his lips when he noticed the attention he was getting. This kind of attention used to make him uncomfortable, but now he actually seemed to enjoy it. The last year or so abroad was good for him. He seemed more comfortable in his own skin now.

  I followed him out to the parking lot over to his dark-gray Ford Expedition. He opened my door for me and closed it firmly after I was seated. He climbed in next to me and started the SUV. I noticed him pursing his lips in irritation as he put the truck in reverse.

  "I feel like I'm driving an eighteen wheeler," he complained as he backed slowly out of the parking space.

  "Why is that?" I asked him curiously.

  "The cars in the Ukraine could fit inside this thing."

  "I don't know why you got this beast in the first place," I said.

  "I know. I don't know what I was thinking," he laughed. "At least Mom had fun driving it while I was gone."

  "I bet she looked ridiculous climbing into this thing." His Mom was very petite.

  "She loved it, but I think I might trade it in and get something that feels a little less like I'm overcompensating."

  "Jensen could probably help you find something nice. He knows cars really well."

  "You think he'd be willing to do that? He seemed a little...I don't know...kind of antagonistic toward me a few times last night," David said with concern as he pulled into traffic.

  "He didn't know you existed until Sunday. Give him some time to adjust to the idea of me having a guy for a best friend."

  "You didn't tell him about me until two days ago?" he asked incredulously, glancing over at me with wide eyes.

  "We were kind of focused on each other and it just never came up," I said sheepishly.

  "Is that code for I didn't want to freak him out?" he asked with a smile.

  "No, it's code for we had better things to do then talk about you." I smiled back and winked at him.

  "Okay," he said in an uncomfortable tone. "I do not want to know anymore about that subject."

  "Consider that payback for your behavior last night, over-sharer."

  "Sorry about that Syd. Let's call it a lapse in judgment caused by jet lag," he said with a smile.

  "Is that going to be your blanket excuse for a while?" I asked him.

  "Probably," he answered matter-of-factly. I rolled my eyes at him.

  We lapsed into a comfortable silence for a while as David concentrated on driving to the Chinese place we had decided on when he had texted me this morning. He pulled into the restaurant parking lot and slowly parked in a spot far away from any other cars, like he was afraid of hitting one of them. I smiled at him knowingly. He pursed his lips and gave me a small glare.

  We were seated immediately after we walked in, and we were staring at our menus in short order. "What was it really like over there?" I asked seriously as I lowered my menu to look at David. He slowly dropped his menu to meet my gaze.

  "Horrific," he said with a sad look on his face. "There are so many people with serious psychological trauma over there. There's been so much violence for so long. It's like everyone has PTSD to some degree." David was a psychiatric nurse, but I hadn't realized he had been over there dealing with that issue. I suppose I should have guessed considering where he went in the first place, but when we had talked while he was gone, he had never wanted to discuss what he was doing there. I couldn't blame him for that. With a sudden flood of relief, I realized I had an ally to help Jensen with his PTSD.

  "Did you help a lot of people with that?" I asked.

  "That's pretty much all I dealt with. That area of the world is in nothing but conflict most of the time," David answered with a tired expression. I hesitated as I considered bringing up Jensen's problems. Jensen was very protective of his privacy, but he needed help desperately. I didn't know what else to do.

  "What's going on Syd?" David asked with a concerned look in his eyes. "You look like something is eating you up. You should talk about it if it's bothering you that much. Are you having a relapse?"

  Damn him, and his ability to read people, especially me. He knew all about my past and my PTSD. He had been instrumental in helping me get well, and I had been the biggest reason he had chosen psychiatric nursing as his specialty. Neither of us would have the lives we did now without each other. Hell, I wouldn't even be here without him. I sighed loudly. I had to tell him. Jensen couldn't keep going on like this, pretending that he was fine and avoiding anything that triggered his panic. I knew he'd be furious with me for telling David, but what other choice did I have?

  "I think Jensen has PTSD," I finally blurted out in a rush.

  "What?" David looked surprised as he leaned in closer, his eyes wide and his eyebrows shooting up.

  "He was in a car crash about two months ago with his brother," I continued, feeling guilty as I spoke. I felt like I was betraying Jensen. "Jensen watched his brother die and then his father died from a heart attack a few days later. He blames himself for their deaths."

  David leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "What makes you think he has PTSD?" he asked quietly; his eyes focused intently on me. Just then the waiter approached the table to take our orders. David absently ordered for both of us, hastening the waiter's departure, so we could continue talking. I didn't even care what I ate at this point.

  "He has nightmares and panic attacks, and I'm pretty sure I witnessed him having a flashback too," I told him, a wave of relief filling me as I spoke. I hadn't realized how much keeping this all to myself had been stressing me out.

  "Has he talked about any of this with you?" David asked after pursing his lips for a moment.

  "The one time I tried to push him into talking about it, I triggered a panic attack. It was awful," I replied, thinking about the terrified look on Jensen's face that day. "He needs help, David, and I don't know what to do." I could feel tears threatening to fall as I met David's sympathetic eyes.

  "Oh, Syd," he said softly and reached across the table to take my hand. "Don't cry. I can help him if he'll let me."

  "What if he won't?" I asked as a small sob escaped my lips as I stared down at the table. "He's so stubborn. I think he's afraid of looking weak."

  "Hey," he spoke louder. I looked up to meet his eyes again. "I helped you, didn't I? You're pretty stubborn too. Not to mention that I know more than I did back then. I've helped a lot of people deal with this since then."

  "I'm afraid for him, David," I said, gripping his hand tightly and struggling not to cry. "He's so fragile and broken."

  "You really love him, don't you?"

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  "Do you want me to talk to him?"

  "I don't know," I whispered. "He'll be furious I even told you." David released my hand and leaned back with a pensive expression on his face. He rubbed a hand through his short beard as he stared down at the
table for a moment before meeting my eyes again.

  "He doesn't have to know you told me anything. I could ask him to help me find a new car, spend some time with him, let him know what I do. Maybe he'll be more receptive, if he knows I can help him. Maybe I can get him to open up a little."

  "I don't know, David. He's so...shut down." I shook my head. "I'm not sure that will work."

  "We won't know if we don't try," David said. "He'll never get better if he keeps going on like he is now."

  "I don't want to hurt him, and I don't want him to be angry with me." I sobbed quietly.

  "Sydney." David leaned toward me again, his eyes filled with empathy. "He's already hurting and he needs help, and just because someone is angry at you doesn't mean they don't still love you."

  "I know, but I'm terrified. He already left me once because of this," I confessed. David stared back at me, a puzzled, concerned look on his face. "He woke up from a nightmare with his hands around my neck. He freaked out and ran from me in a misguided attempt to protect me from himself."

  "Did he fucking hurt you?" David was angry now, his face becoming tense. He only cursed when he was deadly serious.

  "No." I shook my head vehemently. "He was pretty stressed out that day, especially since he had watched Clay get shot and his best friend was grazed by a bullet that was meant for him."

  "Wait, what?!" he blurted out loudly, and several nearby tables looked in his direction. "Clay was shot? By who?" I had forgotten that David didn't know about any of what had happened the week before. Just then the waiter brought us our plates. I thanked him after he placed them in front of us. David just stared at me expectantly until the waiter walked away. I proceeded to tell him everything that had happened the first week that Jensen and I were together, about Clay and what he had done to me. I told him about Jensen leaving me and how we got back together a few days ago. It was kind of cathartic to get it all out.