I know it right now, in this second, as surely as I know her injury doesn’t completely feel better even after her time with the ice pack.
I move my hand down her back, lean in, and kiss her cheek as lightly as I can. Her sigh is as trembly as all of me has become during this minute of settling and catching up.
My voice falters to a whisper against her skin. “How bad does it hurt?”
Hands on my chest turn into arms sliding around me. “It’s not great, but—but I’m okay.”
Feels like my entire body is gripped by displeasure. “Ellie….”
I kiss her cheek again. Again.
I hate her pain and want it to go away.
The turn of her face toward mine puts soft lips against my chin. A kiss lands there and then pulls away, threatens to melt the parts of me that aren’t bothered about her jumping in front of me when she shouldn’t have. Then her lips slide over an inch and press just beneath my jaw, and I’m weakened that much more.
Or strengthened.
She whispers, “You’re okay, so I’m okay. Please believe me.”
And I am melting, weakened, strengthened at the same time.
I can’t stay frustrated and afraid when she’s my definition of solace. Can’t resist her with soft breaths dancing down my neck and safeguarding arms holding me to her.
I move my mouth down and down until it’s against hers, just touching. We breathe together for a long moment, and then we’re kissing.
We can’t spend much time like this, I know. Both of us are late to where we were supposed to be.
But I’ll kiss her for as long as possible, even if it isn’t for long at all.
I’ll spend every available second in her company—more than ever, after this unexpected upset, I don’t want to move away from her any sooner than I have to.
She clings to me, lips and hands, like she feels the same way.
So I don’t ask before unraveling our embrace of each other—I just do it, not minding that our kiss gets put on hold. Then I sweep my hands down the backs of her thighs so I can urge her up off her feet. With her light gasp in the air and her limbs clamping around me, I head for the couch.
I ask in a hush, “Can I keep you for one more minute?”
She nods hard.
I get ready to take her with me when I sit. “Just for a minute.”
She keeps nodding. “I need another minute with you too. Just one more.”
Holding her securely, I drop onto the couch. The back cushions soften my rushing fall while Noelle throws a hand out to them to ease her fall against me.
The sudden weight of her astride me takes our breath away.
We’re still for a few suddenly low-burning moments.
Then I tip my head back from hers. I see unabashed devotion and longing in her eyes.
I let go of her thighs and lift my hands to tuck her hair behind her ears. It’s soft in my fingers.
She’s so beautiful.
I would know it even if this room were dark.
Don’t need to hear more of her caring words to know it, either, but she still breathes them out to me. “I’ll always be at your side. You know that. Always be ready to fight for you however I have to.”
A most beautiful truth, yes.
“Yeah, I know you will,” I say. “I’m one hundred to you.”
Oh, those eyes.
Her hand finally leaves the couch, and she lightly taps her fingertips to my jaw, my chin. “Yes. Forever.”
‘Forever.’
The word ripples over every inch of me, puts my hairs on end.
That’s exactly how long I want us to last.
Our faces move too close for us to keep looking at each other. We share a long kiss. Then another. Then I’m closing my arms around her and she’s pressing her lips to my cheek once, twice.
In moments, she’s embracing me, too, slumping on me with her face buried in my neck.
We sit here in silence, soaking up how steadying it is to be with each other.
Obviously, it’s alluring to be sitting like this in particular, with her across my lap, surrounding me with her legs, her dress, her hair; there’s a new deliciousness and safety and vulnerability here all at once. But at this point, I honestly just wish I could fall asleep with her. After this day, I’m suddenly tired and feeling like the last thing I want to do is go around other people. All I want is to hold and be held by this woman. It relaxes me so damn much.
Soon, I feel sure she has relaxed as well.
I find enough energy to rub gently at her back, allowing my hand to slip between her dress and her sweater.
Yeah, we spend longer than a minute here.
We don’t let time get completely on top of us, but we don’t rush this chance to rest.
It’s this bit of rest that clears my head enough for me to finally whisper to her, “Thank you for coming to me. I’m so sorry you got hurt.”
She nuzzles my neck, tightens her arms around my waist. “No need to thank me. I’m so sorry for you too. What a monster that woman is.”
I graze my fingertips down the middle of her back, and she gives a light shiver.
Damn not being able to stay like this.
I love this. And I want it to be a part of my life I can come back to every day, any time I want, no matter my mood, same as everything else I love sharing with her. I don’t want it to be so fleeting.
Maybe I should finally just ask her for it.
The sudden skip of the idea through me makes me shiver—or maybe that’s from the tender kiss she’s pressing to my neck, because it’s the first of its kind.
As I keep rubbing my hand over her back, wishing her dress weren’t hiding her skin from me, I let the idea in again.
Maybe it’s time to ask her to be mine.
I’ve come to terms with what I feel for her and confessed myself to Cliff; maybe it’s time to fully confess myself to her too.
You never know what’s waiting around life’s next corner. All you have is the precious now.
Right now isn’t literally the time for me to bring it all up, though. Right now, I’m shifting to draw her mouth back onto mine because it definitely is almost time to remind her that people are expecting us.
Still, she delves into a deep, moving kiss with me, and it fills me with that much more resolve.
Very soon, I’m going to put myself out there like I mean it.
Because I do.
—
Only later when I’m about to get in bed and call Noelle do I realize just how shaken up I am about my mom’s sudden reappearance.
I know I’m grown and bigger than she is and that her cutting words don’t slice as deeply as they used to. I know my dad is gone and will never be coming back to hurt me himself. I know the police are aware of what happened this evening. Still, I can feel anxiety crawling up as I change out of my clothes, brush my teeth, peek to make sure no one is outside by my car, and check that my door and windows are locked up tight.
The things I went through when I was younger will always stick with me, but it’s been a long time since they last bothered me like this. Been a long time since I last felt anywhere near as afraid as I did back then—since I last got caught up in memories and felt trapped, as if I couldn’t just pull myself back out into the world I’m really in.
One particular memory won’t leave me alone.
One time right after I met Cliff, my mom was drunker than hell and in such an ugly mood that she told me she and my dad wished I’d never been born. I spent the night unable to sleep, kept awake by their arguing and my terror, because I thought they were going to try to kill me and be rid of me at last.
I feel sharp echoes of that terror now.
Yes, things are different from how they used to be, but are they different enough? I have some facts on my side, but how much do they really amount to?
What if she comes back again even though I told her not to?
What if the police turn out to be as unhel
pful as they were when I was young?
I don’t know who told her to find me here—what if that person is watching me? What if they know I’m home right now, in the dark, and they think I’m relaxed and not worried, and they tell her so? What is that person capable of? Who do they know who could hurt me? Is my mom even who I should be worried about?
My heart is racing in my chest.
My lungs feel like they can’t give me a good breath.
Something I know about abusers is they don’t like being stood up to. They like feeling as if they hold the cards, as if they’re in control. But this evening, I stood up to my mom for the first time ever, and it felt big.
Did I really shock some respect into her with my outburst, or did I piss her off even worse?
Oh my God.
Oh, God, what have I done?
What more could be coming?
I can’t even lie down as I call Noelle’s number—surely the weight of this on my chest would suffocate me. I don’t feel steady on the edge of my bed, though. My muscles won’t stay still while I listen to the repetitive ringing. My hands shake. My legs bounce.
God, help me, I beg. Help me stop feeling like this. I don’t wanna feel like this. I don’t wanna be afraid.
Noelle answers with a soft and eager, “Hi.”
Hearing her voice eases some part of me. “Hey.”
I know she notices the unease that remains, though, and I’m already shaking my head as she says, “Are you all right?”
No.
Rubbing my empty palm over my thigh, I admit, “I’m nervous. Almost scared. I—I guess the shock from earlier wore off, and now I don’t feel okay anymore.”
“Oh, God, I know,” she rushes out on a breath. “I feel the same way. I’ve been getting nervous about you being over there by yourself.”
All I can come up with is a tight-throated, “Yeah.”
What I’d give to feel her holding my shaky hand right now.
What I’d give to be anywhere near her, even just—oh, God, what a good idea.
I suck in one of my weakened breaths to ask if I can go sleep on her couch.
But she’s asking me, “Will you come sleep here? Please? I don’t want you over there by yourself, and there’s no need for you to be. Please, Beckett.”
The strongest sense of relief surges through me.
In turn, it has me surging up from my bed, has my next inhalation coming easier. “Yes. Thank you. I was just about to ask you for that. I don’t wanna be here either.”
“Oh, perfect.” Her sigh is uneven, and I can feel that she’s relieved too. “Come as soon as you can, please.”
“I’ll be out the door in just a minute.”
A beat passes before her voice quiets. “Maybe bring enough stuff for more than one night?”
I like that invitation for many reasons, and not all of them are related to the situation with my mom.
I want to believe the same is true for her, but now isn’t the time for thinking about it. Now is the time for getting the hell away from here.
We don’t end our call for a single minute. Even once I’m on the road, having determined no one is following me, we stay on the phone with each other.
We disconnect only once I’m parked at her house because she knows to open the front door and see me.
My relief is tremendous at this point.
In the front hall, I set down my few days’ worth of necessities and pull her into a locking hug.
She hugs me back, whispering, “Oh, I feel like I can breathe again.”
I nod, nod, nod. “Yeah, me too. I can’t thank you enough. You’re my angel.”
She nods with me as if she’s aware of that, and I love it.
We don’t pull away from each other yet. As exhausted as I am, I don’t mind—in fact, I’m glad for it.
Well, honestly, my body starts to mind once Noelle starts rubbing one hand between my shoulder blades; the soothing caress might just cause my muscles to give out.
Her gentle, tired voice meets my ears. “If you’re comfortable with it, you can sleep in my room with me.”
There’s no way she doesn’t feel what that does to my heartbeat.
The press of her face into my shoulder is gentle and tired too. “It’s okay if you’d rather take the couch. What matters most is that you’re not home alone anymore. I just….”
I don’t need her to finish the sentence. She wants to keep me close—it’s radiating from her.
I drop a kiss to her shoulder, which is mostly bare thanks to her pajama top having thin straps. “The couch was gonna be more than fine with me, but if I have the choice, then no, I don’t pick that. I pick you.”
Her sigh is unsteady once again. “You do?”
“Always. You’re the most comfortable place in the world to me.”
She squeezes me in another full hug, and I know I really am safe.
Shortly, the dark house is locked up for the night and I can follow her to the very end of the hall. Passing Theo sleeping in her own room makes me long for a hug from her, too, but I’ll grab that in the morning; I smile just at imagining how surprised she’ll be to see me.
Then we’re in Noelle’s room, and the lamplit space grips my attention. I’ve been back here before, but never with the intention of staying—and the last time I was in here, she and I still believed we were nothing more than friends. Now it feels weighty and intimate to let my eyes drift over where she was clearly lying in bed when I called, and where her closet stands open for me to see clothes I know have been pulled onto and off of her body, and where the shadowy master bathroom teases thoughts of showers and baths and how sweetly rumpled she probably looks in the mirror every morning.
Similar to earlier on the phone, there’s no way to pretend all this doesn’t make me want things that have nothing to do with escaping my past and everything to do with living in my precious now.
I’m so damn tired, though.
So tired I can’t even hope for a chance to keep using my body to help her see how honestly I adore her. So tired that it’s a chore to get my phone charging on her nightstand and remove my socks and shoes. So tired that once we’re under the blanket and her lamp is off, I barely find the energy to quietly chuckle with her about how it takes us a shy few seconds to get situated in this new place.
All I really get out is, “How are you feeling? Your face?”
“I’m okay,” she assures me in a murmur I believe.
And I realize as my body loosens up that I had no idea how good this would feel.
Relaxing in this bed with her is like finally, after twenty-seven years, discovering what comfort is.
We’ve been like this before on the couch, with me on my back and her snuggled against my side, but it feels different now. Feels like true rest is wrapping itself around me, beckoning me to free myself of the day, my troubles, all the outside world.
I can’t fight it.
Can’t even manage to tell Noelle how much better I already am thanks to her.
With my eyes closing, I just hold on to her and let go of everything else.
—
I stir into consciousness because of the warm body stirring next to me. It’s shifting away, taking its heavenly coziness with it.
Even mostly asleep, I know that’s no good.
Ellie.
With a shifting roll of my own, I follow her and get my arm around her, fixing us close to each other again.
She lets out a contented breath, wraps my hand in hers against her soft chest, snuggles the length of her body back along the front of mine.
All of her is so soft that I never want away from her. She soothes every ache and edge and emptiness.
I wanna sleep this way every night.
I wonder if she would let me.
I believe she would.
I start dozing off again.
But the sluggish brush of her thumb over my knuckles…mmm. I don’t want to miss out on the way it feels.
In an attempt to stay awake a little longer, I force my eyes open. It takes me many blinking, bleary moments to comprehend that the room is slightly less dark than it was the last time I looked around; daylight isn’t here yet, but it will be before long.
I can just make out the shape of Noelle against me. Her hair has fallen away from her pale shoulder, reminding my sleepy brain of the thin-strapped top she has on.
My mouth wants to be there, where that strap is.
She’s still brushing at my knuckles.
I hug her to me for a tighter second. Her hand squeezes mine in return, like a mini hug of her own.
I love her, drifts through my mind.
Swoops through my stomach.
Flutters through my chest.
Nudges my lips onto the nearest part of her…and kissing her hair easily turns into kissing the slope of her neck, which earns me a shiver.
Also love that.
Her stumbling breaths match the ones I find myself leaving where my lips were just pressed to her skin.
As they dare to put another kiss there, I realize I’m slipping out of cozy drowsiness, out of wanting to snuggle her until I fall back asleep. But even though that’s being replaced by something deeply hot, I also feel…I don’t know, not shy, but something like that. There’s the unshakable devotion and quiet solace, yes, but there’s also disbelief that I know the honor of my touch affecting her the way hers always affects me—that I, Beckett, am the one lying with her like this.
I remember how she felt on my lap on my couch and how she felt underneath me on hers. I remember bits of our whispered confessions of things we never thought would be true for us.
It is me. Those truths are ours.
This is real.
I’m good enough for her.
The knowledge is overwhelming.
She releases my hand and rolls around to mirror how I’m lying. The way she does it tells me she isn’t trying to go back to sleep.
My teasing voice is raspy from not being used for hours. “I would apologize for waking you up, but you woke me up first.”
Her short laugh is raspy, too, and I like having it so close to me in the near-darkness.
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