Page 100 of Renegade Rift
She shakes her head.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
“I—it’s stupid. I—just give me a minute and we can?—”
I sigh and step forward, carefully pulling her into a hug, leaving plenty of room for her to push me away, but she surprises me and leans into my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers against my chest.
“What? No—” I tuck my thumb under her chin and tip her head back, meeting her eyes when I tell her, “Juliet, you don’t have to be sorry for not being okay.”
She shakes her head free and her eyes find the ground. “I just thought cutting the strings wouldn’t give him power over me.”
It’s not an explanation, but it’s a step in the right direction.
“This is about Tyler?”
A choked inhale followed by a soft sniffle are the only indications I get that I’ve hit the nail on the head.
“Can you tell me about it?”
“I don’t want you to think less of me because I can’t see that you’re not him.” Every word is laced with damage and dripping with pain.
“I could never think less of you, Juliet. Especially when I know he was a fucking bastard that didn’t deserve you.” I want to tell her all the ways I wish I could go back in time and take her away from him. The number of nights I’ve stayed up replaying every conversation with Tyler, from the age of sixteen to the weeks before he died, looking for some indication of what was really going on.
Juliet cranes her neck to look at me—fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Can’t we just go back to you eating my pussy?”
I chuckle. “While I love hearing those filthy words coming from your mouth, this is just as much a lesson in dating as coming on my face is.”
“It is?”
Nodding, I wipe away her tears. “Absolutely. In any relationship, you have to have open communication. Even when it’s hard to talk about. And especially when it involves a history of trauma.”
Juliet scoffs. “Is that what I have?”
“I don’t know.” I trace small reassuring circles on her lower back. “Only you can tell me that—and I understand if you aren’t ready to—but I won’t risk continuing if it means I’m going to hurt you.”
“Are you always this understanding?”
I huff a laugh. “Not even close. But with you…it’s different. I want you to feel comfortable with me.”
“It’s different for me with you too,” she admits. “And I do feel comfortable with you.” Her lips twist as she chews on the inside of her cheek, like she’s trying to work through something in her mind.
Minutes pass and I just hold her.
It strikes me that I’ve never been able to sit in silence, but with Juliet I’m just happy to be her safe space. She needs this, and honestly, maybe I do too. I’ve been holding tight to all the strands of my life for so long, always looking to the next thing on the list, the next problem to be fixed. I never really stop to allow myself the time to be present and soak in the moment.
The way Juliet fits against me.
The smell of her floral shampoo and the hint of arousal in the air.
The bravery she’s shown in allowing me to share in her vulnerability.
I commit it all to memory.
Juliet's head dips in three short nods, and she confidently says, “I trust you, and I want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” I whisper, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “Are you sure you don’t want to go sit?”
