I stiffen, my eyes popping open. My first thought is not yet. I don’t want him to do this to me yet. I can hear it in his voice. I can feel it in the pounding of his heart against my forehead. And I’m not ready for it. I’m absolutely annihilated, mind, body, spirit. I just need to rest. And eat. And shower. Lord Jesus, I need a shower something fierce.
I’ve already been through so much in this last day and I just… I can’t handle anything else that will hurt. I just can’t.
“Not now, okay? Not yet?” My green eyes meet his troubled blues, and I can already feel how bad whatever he’s going to tell me will hurt. “Can I just have tonight?” My voice catches and I hate that it does, but I’m at my end, so it’s not like I can stop it at this point. I hit my end eighteen hours ago.
“Okay. Not tonight.”
Sucking in a shaky breath, I do my best to push this down. He’s going to break my heart. A heart I never wanted to give him but did anyway. A heart he fought for. Why did he do that? Why did he have to fight so hard? Why did he tell me today he wanted it if he was just planning on breaking it hours later?
Somehow, I end up on the elevator, Brecken’s arms around me, holding me. We make it to the garage and then into his car and before long back to his place instead of mine. Probably better that way. I can leave without having to kick him out and then my stuff won’t smell like him.
Truth? I’m already sad.
Possibly a touch heartbroken.
I have a feeling he’s going to tell me he’s moving back to New York. At least that’s the vibe I’m getting from him. And I won’t follow him. Partially because I want him to stay for me—a little selfish, but whatever. Mostly because my life is here, and I don’t want my life to be in New York.
I want my brothers and my parents. I want my friends. I want sleepovers with my niece where we talk books and watch tweenish movies. Harrison and what I went through there aside, New York is not my home. And now I sound like the song “Dirty Water”, but yeah, Boston, you’re my home.
But… could New York be my home again? If Brecken is there? Could I move for him? I could stay here and be miserable or I could move with him and be happy.
By the time I blink and come back to, we’re upstairs and Brecken is running a bath for me. I’m standing here staring at the water filling the tub and I have no idea how that even happened.
“I don’t have stuff,” he says, and I glance up, curious as to what he means. “I don’t take baths, so I don’t have half the things for it that I’ve seen in your bathroom. I started the bath thinking that’s what you’d want, but would you rather take a shower?”
Good question.
“I think I might fall asleep in the bath and drown.”
“Not funny.”
“But also true.”
He nods and shuts off the faucet, draining the tub. “How’s this. You take a shower. I’ll set out some clothes of mine for you to change in to. I’ll whip us up some pasta alfredo with chicken because that’s about the only thing I have the ingredients for, and I want to cook you a real meal. Oh, and some wine. I have wine.”
“Okay. To all of that.”
“Are you okay? I feel like you keep speaking in short monosyllabic sentences.”
“I’m not okay. But I will be because I’m a girl who learned long ago that sometimes we don’t have a choice but to be.”
His hands cup my face, tilting my head and pressing his lips to mine. I haven’t kissed him in what feels like forever and the effect is deadly. All too soon it’s over, his forehead against mine, his eyes a brewing storm. Another soft kiss and then he releases me, starting the shower and even helping me take off my clothes like I’m a small child who can’t manage it herself.
I let him because I’m too heartsick to do much else other than try not to think. Or fall asleep standing up.
“Change of plans,” he says, stripping off his own clothes and leading me in. He kisses my mouth, washes my hair and body with so much tenderness I cry. And cry. And cry. Because Margot is alive. And she’s going to be okay. Yes, it will be a long road to her full recovery.
But there is one in sight.
And for a while there, after what happened in that OR and what I heard happened in the ED, I wasn’t sure that would be possible for her. And Brecken came for me. He stayed and then came back. He’s taking care of me, but he has something to say I’m not going to want to hear.
His warm, wet body caresses mine as I weep, locked in a cocoon of protective strength I never want to be parted from. The scent of his shampoo and body wash on me only makes this worse. I might have to steal a pillow or a shirt or something so I can continue to smell him, even after he’s gone.
Or maybe I just need some sleep before I do any real thinking.
Wrapped in a towel, I watch as he quickly dresses and sets something out for me that I already know will be a bazillion times too big. Then he races out of the room with promises of dinner, and I’m left all alone.
Shit. Why don’t I regret him yet? Why aren’t I furious?
I should be, right? He told me he never wanted to be parted from me and then he said he has something to tell me he’s not sure how I’ll react to.
But I’m stuck in the swell of him still. When I’m left bereft on the empty shoreline then maybe I’ll find my ire. But for now—
My eyebrows pinch. Was that the doorbell? Yep. It sure was. And that’s Aria’s voice Brecken is speaking to.
35
Brecken
Somehow, I know it’s her before I even reach the door. Something about the way the bell rang or maybe I was just anticipating Aria checking up on me. I don’t know. But when I open the door, she is alone. Showered and dressed. Tired looking but peacefully happy.
“Hey,” she says, her smile turning bright until she takes in my attire, wet hair, flannel pajama pants, and no shirt. “Oh. I was going to see if I could drag you out for dinner with me and Wes. He’s getting off his shift in a few minutes.” But then her eyes slip past me, snagging on the stove with the pot of water, the ingredients for the sauce, and two empty wine glasses. “You have company?”
“Yes. She’s upstairs.”
“Oh.” Aria’s face tints with a blush, like she’s embarrassed that I just showered with someone and she’s still upstairs. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.” Then she laughs like the notion is ridiculous. “I mean sleeping with someone.”
And that’s it. That right there. That condescending bullshit which isn’t even meant to be condescending.
“Aria, I slept with two of your friends in high school. Two. So where the fuck do you get that I’m some sort of heartbreaking player, fucking your friends before I chew them up and spit them out?”
Yeah. I’m angry. I have every goddamn right to be.
“You hooked up with five total.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay. So let’s call it five, though if memory serves, I didn’t do anything with those other three. In fact, two of those girls kissed me and I immediately pulled back, ending it. And absolutely nothing happened with the third. So, I’m not so sure where you’re getting your facts from, but I think your friends weren’t all that truthful with you. Sounds more like wishful thinking on their parts.”