I recognize Elliot’s voice, and while this is the worst time to talk, I know if he’s calling, it’s something serious.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to keep my voice low as I head out to the back porch to take the call. I look over my shoulder one last time at the scared sleeping beauty on my couch before heading outside.
“Fucking physical therapy for three months,” Elliot starts, launching into a tirade about how he’s sick of all the medical bullshit, and he’s ready to be done so he can join us up on the mountain. He needs to heal and find peace more than any of us, but Elliot is as stubborn as a fuckin’ mule.
“Is there a place you can go for your physical therapy out here? That way, you don’t have to wait.”
My friend is silent for a moment before grunting and clearing his throat. “I suppose that’s an idea I hadn’t thought about,” he admits.
Not much makes me smile these days, but his response elicits a smirk. “Glad I could help.” I chuckle to myself when Elliot grumbles under his breath.
We say our goodbyes, and I shove my phone back into my pocket, taking a deep, cleansing breath. My concerns aboutElliot fade into the background as thoughts of the woman passed out on my couch consume me once more.
Whoever the hell she is, she found a shelter right here with me. I’ll protect her from every goddamn thing this cruel world has thrown her way, and maybe she’ll consider staying here. With me.
Fucking crazy is what I am. I know it. I hear it in my obsessive thoughts over a woman who fainted before we could even properly introduce ourselves. Still, I’m drawn to her. My feet move almost without my permission, carrying me toward my mystery woman.
I sit in the chair across from the couch but immediately decide that's not close enough. Instead, I sit on the floor with my back propped against the couch. I count her breaths and sync up my breathing with hers, wanting to be connected to her in some way.
Jesus, if this is how I’m acting when she’s not even conscious, I’m almost afraid to see how obsessive I’ll be when she wakes up. I guess time will tell.
4
BLAKELY
Iwake up surrounded by the softest blanket and warm, fluffy pillows. I know I must be dreaming because I’ve never been this cozy in my life. I take a few more moments to savor the dream before it fades away, then inhale deeply, already dreading the day ahead.
But today feels different. What happened last night?
My eyes flash open, and I sit up straight as memories of the last few days filter through my mind.Oh, god. I ran away. I was hiding in a construction site when the tallest, most muscular man I’ve ever encountered found me and…
I have no memory after that.
“Am I dead?” I whisper to myself.
“Not on my watch,” a voice beside me says.
I jump and tense at the booming baritone, closing my eyes and covering my face to protect myself from the attack I know is coming. It’s an automatic response.
"Hey," the man says, his tone much softer and more subdued. "I'm not going to hurt you. Ever. I promise you're safe here."
Safe?
I shake my head and curl further into myself, wishing I could condense myself into a singularity and fade into a black hole. Everything is too much, too raw, too overwhelming. Even with my eyes closed, I’m on sensory overload as my head spins and repeats that one word: safe.
“Can you take a breath for me?” the man asks, keeping his voice quiet. “I can’t have you passing out on me again.”
My body obeys his command before I even register his words. I gasp for air, not realizing I was holding my breath.
“Good, now slower,” the stranger says soothingly.
He breathes with me, silently encouraging me to match his rhythm. After a few moments, my head stops spinning and I don’t feel like the walls are closing in on me. I’m still shaken from everything that’s happened over the last few days, but somehow the man who took me in seems to want to… care for me? It must be a trap, but I’m too exhausted to run or fight anymore.
Slowly, I open my eyes, surprised to see the man from last night kneeling in front of me. He's at eye level, and something about that relaxes me. He's not using his size to intimidate me, though he very well could. The man could probably take on my uncle, which is saying something. My uncle was a professional boxer before he fell into drugs and alcohol.
“There you are,” comes the gentle yet deep voice of the man who took me in and gave me shelter. “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? Water? Food? Shower?”
I blink a few times, unsure I heard him correctly. He wants to feed me? Provide a shower? I don’t deserve this. Not after the things I stole from the site. Still, those emerald eyes shine with something wholly unfamiliar. I can’t place my finger on it, but I let my guard down. Just a bit. Just enough.
