I love his eyes; I always have even as they haunted me, but with them closed now I can focus on the small details of his face. How thick his lashes are, the rough stubble along his sharp jaw. The way his hair is short, but long enough to be messy.
A sad smile slips across my lips as I rest my fingers against his chest.
I wish I hadn’t though, because he wakes instantly, gripping my wrist and making me gasp. His eyes pop open and the pale gray swirls in his eyes are full of emotion. He swallows visibly and with unease before letting go of my wrist.
He blinks the sleep from his eyes and turns to look over his shoulder, the bed creaking as he looks at the door and then back to me.
He wraps his heavy arm around me, pulling me closer to him so my body touches his and then shuts his eyes as if he’s going back to sleep.
“Jay?” I whisper his name. I don’t know what time it is, but it must be very early or very late.
“Robin,” he says my name low, the deep rumble of his voice making the word linger between us.
“Let me touch you?” I try to be strong in my words, but they’re weak. I’ve always been weak for him.
He stays still, but the moment I reach forward he grabs my wrist out of instinct. His blunt nails dig into my wrist. My breathing stalls and I stare at where he holds me, giving him a moment. “You want me here to help you,” I finally say and look up into his eyes. He’s staring at my wrist as well, at his fingers curled and gripping with a force that’s unbreakable. I can feel the blood pulsing; his grip is so tight.
I swallow and add, “You need to let me do whatever I can to help you.” My voice quivers, and I have to look away. It’s selfish of me. So fucking selfish. I want to touch him, simply because I want to. So many nights he’s held me. He’s let me rest my cheek against his shoulder, and my lips have even rested against his chest. But never my hands. My hands need to be down.
“Tomorrow,” Jay finally says and releases me, leaving my hand dangling awkwardly in the air until I submit and lower it to the bed.
Jay lies still, with no indication he’s going to handcuff me to the bed. And I almost swallow my words, the plea for him not to. I don’t want to remind him, but I need reassurance.
My lips part, but the words don’t come out.
“What is it?” he asks me in a no no-nonsense voice.
“I don’t want you to handcuff me,” I tell him quickly. He lies still, with no reaction and my nerves get the better of me. I peek up at him through my lashes. His face is like stone, emotionless even. “Jay, please,” I beg him. My fingers itch to reach up and touch him, but I can’t, so instead my fingernails dig into the comforter.
“You can’t leave me,” Jay says as if it’s the only truth he knows.
This is wrong. He’s not okay, and I’m not safe. But the two of us were never meant to be right.
I can’t help what being with him does to me. I wish I could justify my feelings, but I know it’s fucked up on too many levels.
All the feelings I have for him are hovering just below the fear.
The need to cling to him to stay safe is strong. It’s hard to fight the urge to touch him. What’s worse is that I don’t want to keep myself from touching him.
“Go to sleep, Robin,” Jay tells me, his large hand splaying along my hip as he adjusts me next to him like we used to lay, calming me and kissing the crook of my neck.
His rough stubble brushes along my sensitive skin, and my body bows to him. I can’t deny the effect he has on my body. I can’t help how I want him. I try to override my body’s reaction to him.
“We need to talk,” I try to tell him, but he shushes me. And I obey. Whatever fate Jay gives me, I’ll take it. I know that with every piece of my being in this moment. I only exist because of him, and I’m guilty of a far worse crime than any he could commit against me. I’ll bend to his will; I owe him that. I owe him everything.
“Go back to sleep,” he tells me in an even voice. And for the first time in years, I do just that. I slip easily into the darkness and fall into the depths of a dream I once had long ago.
Chapter 11
John
The camera’s set up and focused on her. She's sitting on the bed with her knees pulled into her chest. There’s a room upstairs full of clothes for her, yet she’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s far too large for her and a pair of men's blue flannel pajama pants. Something Jay must have left for her to wear. She's alone on a tiny ass mattress with nothing else in the room except a metal chair.
I let out a tortured breath and drag the chair across the room. The metal legs scrape on the cement floor, and the screeching only pisses me off. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I think about how I’ve canceled everything to be here. It’s like an obsession, picking at the back of my brain, the anxiety making my body tremble. But more than that, I’m curious.
I don’t know what exactly happened between them, but the way she looks at him and vice versa… I’m more than curious.
“How do you know Jay?” Robin asks me with her gaze still fixed on the sheet she’s balling up in her hand. She dares to lift those hazel eyes to me, and I take a moment to consider what I want to tell her.
“We met when we were kids,” I answer. I finally sit down a few feet away from the bed, but inside of the camera’s field. I swallow thickly. “He helped me,” I admit to her.
She picks at the sheet, but doesn’t look down. Tilting her head, she asks me, “Helped you with what?”
“I was adopted and it was hard for me, but Jay was,” I pause and clear my throat, remembering back to when we were kids. Both of us lost and feeling alone, feeling abandoned. “Jay was a good friend when I needed one.” I nod my head once and then look back at her, but I have to rip my eyes away. It doesn’t justify this.
“I see,” Robin says softly and it reminds me that she’s a shrink. A huff of a humorless laugh spills from my lips. “Are you analyzing me, Doctor Everly?” I ask her with humor in my voice, but she nods her head once.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she says in a soft voice, still picking at the sheet.
I try to swallow the spiked ball that’s formed in my throat, but I can’t. Instead I just talk. “I didn’t want to do this,” I tell her. “I’m afraid to not be here though.” I look her in the eyes when I say, “When I came back here this morning, I was scared that I’d find-”
I shake my head, unable to continue. It makes me less of a man to leave. Less of a man to leave Jay with her. But there’s something I don’t know. It’s like it’s right in front of my face, something I know deep down inside that says it’s all okay, that this is meant to happen like this.
“Jay doesn’t want to hurt me,” Robin says confidently, but then adds, “Maybe a small piece of him wants to. But I don’t think he would.”
I stare at her with wonder and ask, “Why would you give him the chance?” Her eyes narrow with pain and gloss over before she reaches farther onto the bed and pulls the sheets up to get comfortable.
“What do you know about me?” she asks me.