30
MATT
It takes all of my energy not to break right here in front of her. I want to cry, I want to break things, and for the first time ever, I want to kill someone.
“He didn’t use your weakness, Natalie.” I try to calm my voice. I need to stay calm for her. “He raped you.” Her chocolate eyes widen before she drops to my arms. “It wasn’t your weakness. Nothing about it was your fault. He raped you, that was all on him.” We stay like that, both sobbing.
I sob for the girl she was, with an open and loving heart. I sob for the woman she was forced to become. A force to be reckoned with, to never get hurt like that again.
It all makes sense now. The way she uses sex as means of power, the way her real fear is letting someone close to her heart. The last time she did, she was hurt in an unthinkable way.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, “that’s why I can’t do more than casual relationships. I can’t afford to go through it again. My heart is too damaged. I’m too damaged.”
“You’re not damaged,” I whisper into her ear. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’re the brightest, shiniest star, and we all just follow your light.” I press a gentle kiss to her forehead.I want to tell her I love her. I need to tell her I love her. I want to tell her how no heart, whole or damaged, shines as bright as hers. But she’s not ready. Not right now. Not like this.
“You love so fully, so wholeheartedly, being loved by you is a life-changing privilege. Your heart is incredible, Natalie. You are incredible.”
“I’ve hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I just can’t give you more,” she cries.
“Shh, it’s OK,” I say, my mouth now permanently glued to her temple. “You were right. I was pushing you, and I had no right. I will never again ask more than you’re willing to give to me. It’s your choice, all yours.”
She looks at me with tear-filled eyes and nods.
“Take this, so your head doesn’t start to hurt.”
She rolls her eyes, but takes the pills, downing the rest of the water with them. She’s not okay, I know, but her spark is back, which is all I can ask for.
“I need to wash off the alcohol,” she says, and I realize she needs a minute to herself.
“I’ll bring you something to wear.” I nod. “There’s a clean towel and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom.”
I leave a T-shirt, some boxers, and my tightest sweatpants on the bed before going to the kitchen to make breakfast. Twenty minutes later, I’m knocking on the door.
“Come in,” she says. Even devastated, she is beautiful.
Dressed in my clothes from head to toe, a possessiveness hums through me. She might not be mine, but I’m hers. And I wow to myself to keep her safe, in any way I can.
“I brought you something to eat. The bacon should be good for the hangover.” We click on the TV, mindlessly watching while eating some of the eggs and bacon I prepared. I put the tray away when we’re done.
“Can you hold me?” Her voice is so low I almost think I imagined it, but she lies down, her back to me, and I turn to her, wrapping myself around her.
After all that happened between us, this right here, the spooning, is the most intimate we’ve ever been. Hope blooms in my chest, the bitch still not dead. Her body fits mine perfectly, and I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep without her in my arms now I’ve experienced this.
In a few minutes, her breathing slows, and she falls asleep. Somehow, I calm down enough to fall asleep, too.
“Haveyou ever talked to anyone about it?” I ask, rolling a curl of her hair around my finger when we both wake up.
“I had a therapist back in college. She gave me some tips on how to handle the panic attacks, which were a staple back then. She didn’t agree with my way of handling things, so I stopped seeing her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she thought masking my fear with over confidence and closing off my heart forever wasn’t the best move, but it worked pretty good for me in the past.” She shrugs.
“And now?”
“Now, I’m not so sure. But it’s the only thing I know.” She looks at me with regret in her eyes.
“That’s OK. I understand. And I’m here for whatever you need from me.”
