At that, I watch his eyes close and his jaw clench, almost as if in pain. Is he thinking of his own family? His mom, sister, and dad, all of them—gone. Is he feeling how alone he is? Or does he dread the indefinite future with me until I can get on my own feet again? Maybe talking about growing old only reminded him that I’m stuck bouncing between him and Elias until I can figure my life out.
The warmth from earlier has disappeared with nothing left but a chill in my bones.
“Sorry,” he mutters gruffly. His voice pulls me from my thoughts. With slow precision, he reaches up and carefully brushes the back of two knuckles along my cheekbone. “Got lost there for a minute. You hungry? We should have breakfast.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m starving.” I take the change in conversation as the perfect opportunity to scramble away. “I’m going to get changed. I brought with a bag.” I grab my things and start for the hall.
“Eggs and bacon okay?” His voice calls after me.
“Yeah, sure! That sounds good.” I don’t know why my hand shakes when I reach the handle to his bedroom, but it does. It’s not like there’s anything—or anyone—to find. I chalk it up to all that’s happened this morning and slowly push open the door, only bothering to close it halfway behind me. I deposit my small bag on the bed and begin digging around for something to wear. The gray sweatpants and a soft shirt are nice for sleeping, but they aren’t appropriate for during the day. Not that I go anywhere other than three places. Still, the luxury of changing my clothes is still so new to me.
For years, I wandered around naked, only given clothes when we were set out on a street corner or taken to the motel. Indoors, though, we were stripped of all basic comforts such as clothing and forced to walk around nude or in dirty old tees. I shudder at the haunting memory.
Clothing isn’t something I take for granted.
Someday, I’d like to learn about styling my outfits. I haven’t ventured into wearing skirts or dresses yet. They make me feel too…exposed. And I don’t miss the grins from Alex and Elias if I wear something that doesn’t match, like adding a funny hat with my jeans and top. I learned quickly that accessories aren’t necessary for a girl like me.
I find a pair of jeans and a soft red tee shirt in the bag and lay them on the bed. The pants are one of the first pairs Elias got for me. The first or second day I was there, he said I needed some clothes of my own and made a phone call. A few hours later, a woman showed up at his house with a shopping bag from Target. Since then, several more shopping bags of clothes have shown up at his place, but I have no idea where they’re coming from.
I tug off my sweats and shirt, standing nude except for my cotton panties. The cool air brushes against my breasts and makes them tighten. The tingling sensation causes my breath to catch. I quickly tug my shirt over my head to protect my chest from the chill.
As I slip my left leg into my pants, my stomach lets out a loud rumble. I giggle and step in with the other leg. I better hurry up so I can eat. Alex is a big guy. He could probably take down an entire pound of bacon without any help from me.
The pants slip easily up my legs and over my rear, and I pull the ends closed. Only…they don’t make it. I pull up my shirt and tuck it beneath my chin, dropping my eyes to the bronze button at the top of my pants. Pulling tighter, I try to get the little slit over the fasten. My knuckles brush each other as I yank, wiggle, and shake my hips, but it’s no use. The ends won’t budge.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I drop my hands in defeat to my sides. When I drop my head back, my shirt releases and skates down my abdomen. Why won’t they fit?
I walk a path across the room and back. While sniffling back tears, I stop in the same spot I just vacated and try again. Again, it’s useless. The ends hardly touch.
Embarrassment consumes me, and the tears fall faster. I turn to the bed and dig quickly through my bag, while in the back of my head, I know I didn’t pack anything else. Why didn’t I pack anything else? Because I thought I wouldn’t be here long, that’s why. Because I just wanted a place to sleep for the night and to give Elias some time alone. I never expected to be here long enough to need a second change of clothes.
A sob croaks out before I can stop it, and I try to cover it with my hand. I can’t keep letting Elias bring me new clothes. I also can’t afford to buy new things for myself. Even though Alex has been paying me to work at Sinclair’s, I haven’t been taking on more than one shift a week. I wasn’t ready, but now I might have to be. I need to start paying for things on my own.
The tears fall faster as fear envelops me, edging away the embarrassment. I don’t know if I’m ready to work there more than I already do. A blur of male faces fills my mind, followed closely by a choking sensation at the thought of them leering at me. I wrap my arms tightly around my torso to chase away the unwanted feeling. My entire body shakes and I don’t realize it, but I’m out and out sobbing. All over a stupid pair of jeans.
“Blossom! What the fuck, baby? What’s the matter?” Alex’s voice bursts through the room at the same time the door flies open so hard it bangs off the wall behind it. His large body thunders through, and before I can get a word out, I’m going up and into his arms. He scoots back on the bed near the headboard and leans against the wall with me held tightly against his chest. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he demands.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” I sob, the dam bursting now that I’m in his arms.
His large hand cups my head and tucks it beneath his chin while he gently rocks me. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you kiss me. You aren’t back there, baby, I swear. You’re safe here with me. Nobody will touch you if you don’t want them to. Nobody. Includin’ me.”
The tone of his declaration makes me cry harder. I curl my fingertips into his solid chest. “It’s not th-that.”
The rocking stills. “Tell me, darlin’. Only way you’re gonna feel better is to get it out.”
I inhale, but it hitches three times before I’m able to get in a full breath. “My pants don’t fit,” I share before I let out the deep breath. My heart rate begins to slow, so I take another slow, deep breath.
Alex says nothing, and the silence stretches for what feels like minutes. As my tears come back under my control, I slip my head out from beneath his chin and glance up at him through wet lashes. He’s looking at the jeans at the foot of the bed, and his lips are twitching.
After what feels like an eternity, he says, “Let me start this by sayin’ I love women of all shapes and sizes, but you used to be nothin’ but skin and bones. Sickly, even, and I’m not saying that to be an asshole, it’s just the truth. They starved you in that fuckin’ place. That said, I can’t even begin to describe how pleased I am to hear that a pair of size 0 jeans no longer fits you.” His brows relax, and his eyes soften in a way I’ve never seen them do before. “You scared me. I could hear you crying from in the kitchen, and all I could think was that I hurt you. Seeing that you’re getting healthy again is about as far in the opposite direction from my thoughts. That’s nothing to cry about.”
Everything he said was nice, but one thing, in particular, stood out to me. “I scared you?”