Page 98 of The Only Heart that Matters
Relieved me.
Broke me apart and put me back together again.
She wrapped me up in her love while I wept in her arms. She held me, telling me over and over that it wasn’t my fault.
It wasn’t my fault.
Once my tears subsided, she kissed every inch of my face before she climbed on top of me, telling me with her body that itwasn’t my fault and that she wasn’t going to run away. At least not because of this.
It was more than I deserved.
This morning as she got ready for work, I laid in bed and watched her go through her morning routine. She told me I was stupid, as she so often does, and stuck her tongue out at me. I didn’t care. I could gladly turn watching her do the most mundane tasks into a full-time job.
She also told me to stay in bed when I offered to help with Sawyer. Her reply was quick. Adamant. Almost as though she didn’t want Sawyer to realize I was here. Likely, so he didn’t get used to me being a part of their daily routine. After everything we shared last night, it stung, but I stayed in bed as requested.
They’ve been gone at least an hour, but I’m still between the sheets, my mind all over the place. Talking about the day I lost Chris made sleeping dangerous. Choosing to stay awake all night rather than drifting off and risking a nightmare. I tend to thrash in my sleep when I get trapped in one of those nightmares and I would never forgive myself if I hurt her. Granted I’ve never had anyone sleeping beside me during a nightmare, but I wasn’t taking that chance.
I’d also never talked about that day with anyone other than my therapist. Nor had I cried since the day they pulled me away from Chris. And I didn’t cry last night. I sobbed until I had nothing left in me.
She accepted me as I was, didn’t blame me, and didn’t walk away. But there’s no denying the look in her eyes when she kissed me goodbye this morning. Fear and sadness lingered behind her cerulean eyes. It was the same sorrow she wore when she took my hand and led me to the bedroom last night.
The ringing of my phone interrupts the barrage of thoughts and emotions threatening my sanity. Grateful for the distraction and to see it’s my brother on the other end, I answer.
“What’s up?” I answer, because Cal isn’t the type to call for a chat.
“You busy this morning?”
“Nope, not going into the bar till noon.”
“Meet me at the barn. I need to go for a ride.”
“See you in twenty.”
“Thanks.”
When Cal says he needs to ‘go for a ride’, it means he’s stressed out and needs to talk. I’m more than happy to talk abouthisproblems. Anything to stop replaying the fear in Mia’s eyes when she left.
I heft my exhausted body out of my bed that still smells of her. I saunter to the spare bedroom where I’m staying, get dressed, brush my teeth and head to the kitchen, relieved to see she filled a thermos of coffee for me with a sticky note on it.
Thank you.
Thank you for what?
A nice roll in the hay? Telling her the truth about Chris? Or thank you for the place to stay?
Callen has the right idea. A ride is what I need to get my head straight.
Patting my pockets for my truck keys and coming up short, I look around the kitchen counter, finding them next to Mia’s ever growing to-do list. I’m not purposefully snooping when I read it. It’s her writing that calls to me. It’s rare you see a person’s handwriting, what with texting and technology, so seeing her writing draws me in. Anything and everything about this woman captivates me.
The list is your regular laundry list of things to do around the house, but at the very bottom she’s crossed out a line that says,Tell Angus about bar invite email.Below it, she’s added two words in all caps...
TELL HIM!
My heart plummets to my stomach. Nausea swirls in my gut. My mind races once again.
A small part of me is relieved she wants to move forward with our relationship. She wants me to know her truth. But the way those two words sit on the page makes me queasy. Not in her sweet swirling writing, but in harsh block letters written so hard she nearly ripped the paper. Not to mention the force she used to cross out the line above it.
My fear is short-lived, though. Whatever she has to tell me won’t matter in the least. She’s it for me. Let her tell me her worst so I can prove my loyalty and stick by her side.
