My heart aches in my chest as I remember how he’d whisper it. If you need me, just ask.
I need him. God, do I need him.
The lump seems to stop in my throat mid-swallow as I grip the doorknob and open it slowly. It doesn’t escape me that there’s no lock. Just like the bathroom. None to force me to stay in the room, and none to keep Jay out.
The door’s silent, which is a blessing and a curse.
I don’t want Jay to think I’m leaving.
Or worse, the dog.
I peek my head out of the doorway, opening it up slowly to reveal more of the hall. The moonlight spills into the front of the hall from the window in the living room and floods it with light. So much more than what I have in the room Jay gave to me.
I only take one step, my bare foot making the floor groan with my weight before I hear a low growl.
“Toby,” I hear Jay’s voice say the dog’s name low and with an admonition in his voice just as the fear was about to take me. “Stay,” Jay orders from the living room. I turn my head to look back down the hall to the closed door to the basement. That’s where I was headed, but I follow the sound of Jay’s voice and walk slowly to the living room, gripping the molding that cases the doorway and facing both Jay and Toby.
Jay’s on his back in the middle of the floor. A thin blanket covers his lower body, and Toby lays close to Jay. He doesn’t turn to look at me. He absentmindedly pets the dog once and then twice while staring at the ceiling. If not from his hand stroking the dog, I’d think he was asleep with his eyes open, his body is so still.
The dog merely lifts his head once, assessing me and then laying his head back down as if he’s content with my presence.
“I wasn’t sneaking out,” I say quickly and the way I said it makes even me think that I was lying. My fingers twist around one another as I chance a step closer to Jay, just one, although my eyes stay on the dog.
“You should be sleeping, little bird,” Jay finally says and then turns his head to look at me.
“I wanted,” I start to say but get caught in his gaze. It’s intense and the way his eyes look at night with him being so tired, takes me back to when we were trapped. Back to when he couldn’t sleep at all.
“Will you lie down with me?” I manage to ask him, although I don’t know how.
“No,” he answers quickly and with finality. My heart feels splintered from his cold denial. I nod once, accepting it and trying not to think back to the bathroom. To the kiss. To the moment I thought we had. The moment I ruined.
It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.
“Leave the door open,” Jay says softly, ignoring how I’m barely holding on.
I nod my head again and bite my lip as I turn my back to him, to go back alone to the room. It’s only then that Jay says, “I can’t, Robin. John will be here soon.”
John. The way Jay talks about him makes my heart ache with a splintering pain that’s nearly debilitating. I have to wait a moment, forcing all of the emotions away. Taking a look at this from my clinical background.
“What’s the purpose of doing things this way?” I lick my lips after croaking out the words. I’m nervous to approach Jay; after all the years of training, I should be more confident. But it’s Jay. I’m afraid to touch him, or to hurt him, to make him angry. Not because of what he’d do to me, but because of what my words could do to him.
Words are powerful, so much more than we realize.
“What do you mean?” he asks me, still staring at the ceiling, but his relaxed body is now stiff and his response makes me shift uneasily. I decide to sit on the ground, still in the entrance. The thin nightgown rides up but I pull it down as the cold wood floor presses against my thighs.
“Your way,” I answer him and put my hands in my lap. It feels like a session in some ways, and the thought is comforting. “Why do you want to do it like this?” I ask him.
“John won’t listen to me,” Jay says. “He just shuts me down and he doesn’t hear it.”
“You talk to him often?” I ask him as I pick at the hem of my nightgown, each little bit of information helps me to understand.
Jay clears his throat roughly and looks away from me and toward the window. My throat closes, hating how much this wounds him.
“That’s fine,” I tell him to try to reassure him. “I understand, Jay.” I keep my voice light and calm, feigning a casual air about such a serious conversation. “You know I’d never judge you.” I try to speak the words calmly, but they're quiet at the end as the anguish rises and my throat seems to close. My shoulders rise slowly as I take in a deep steadying breath and close my eyes.
“He won’t be able to deny you,” Jay says and his words make my eyes open. He licks his lips as soon as my eyes reach his, and they draw my focus to his mouth.
My body heats, and I feel nothing but ashamed. The desire is there; I can’t help it. But I’m ashamed that in this moment I want to comfort him in a primitive way. I have to tear my eyes away as I ask, “So you need me to tell him about our past? You can see why that scares me, can’t you?”
He shakes his head and says, “You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to.” My eyes flick back to his as he swallows and adds, “I just thought hearing it from you would help.”
“Since he won’t listen to you,” I say as if it’s a question, but it’s only to clarify what I already know. I try my best to hide the genuine fear of revealing anything to John. But I fail at it, miserably.
A hesitant breath leaves me and I try to beg him one last time, “We should go-”
He cuts me off before I can finish and says, “I’ll protect you. Always. I’ll be there.”
Always. The word is the final dagger. “You can’t promise me that.” I lower my head as the words slip out and I lose my sense of composure. I rest my head in my hands, my fingers spearing through my hair and I rock forward slightly. I’m not normally like this. The last time was my final session with Marie.
She reminded me so much of Jay. So much of me. So much of what we’d been through.
But this is nothing like what that poor girl went through. There’s only so much a person can be pushed. Only so much pain they can handle before they break. She wouldn’t take the medication I prescribed, and she couldn’t turn off the nightmares.
I can’t break down again. I can’t let what happened to Marie happen to Jay. I have to be strong for those who can’t. I failed her.
“I can, and I will. Please, little bird, my Robin.” Jay rises and crawls to me. I peek up through my lashes, wet with the promise of tears that I hold back.
I don’t resist him when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his lap. I stay still, not reaching up like I did when I was a child. He’d hold me if I promised not to hold him back.
But his grip on me is so different now. Everything is different.
The way the warmth of his strong body envelops me and heats my blood.
The way our breath mingles and begs me to arch my neck and press my lips against his.
The way I lean into his chest and breathe in his scent. He’s slow to react when I place my hand on his thigh. He shushes me, cautiously, as if he’s not sure that’s what he wants to do. Slowly, he bends forward and kisses my neck.