What took you so long?
I force myself to swallow back the question threatening to tumble from my lips when Quinton opens the door. I don’t want him to know how I practically counted the seconds from the time he stepped out of the room until now, sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed, willing him to come back.
It’s one thing for him to take care of me, but everyone has their limits. The last thing I want is to push him away by clinging too tight.
“The doctor only gave me a few pills,” he explains, pulling a small packet from his jeans and leaving it on the nightstand. “She said you shouldn’t have any problems with nightmares if you take one. It will knock you right out. And if you need more, she’s happy to provide them, but she can’t give them out too freely. Not even to you.”
“I understand.” The idea of sleeping without dreaming seems too good to be true, but I trust her. She’s one of the few people around here I actually trust.
He sits on the bed, taking my hand. There’s something so comforting about his touch. Warmth flows from my hand up my arm, across my shoulders, loosening the muscles. Almost like I’m standing under a hot shower. “She asked if you were eating, by the way. I wasn’t about to lie about it. And she warned me if you don’t have something today, you might have to drink more of those terrible smoothies to get your nutrients.”
“Anything but that,” I murmur, rolling my eyes.
“Let us take care of you. All we want to do is make sure you get through this. You know that, right?”
His words should bring me comfort the way his touch does, but I’m still too bitter to accept it at face value. “Sure, you and the doctor, and a couple of other people. That’s not the opinion of everyone around here, I’m sure.” The way he averts his gaze tells me I’m right, though I didn’t need confirmation. I doubt I’ve earned any sympathy.
“You know you’re still safe here, right? That won’t change. Everyone knows better than to fuck with you.”
Everyone? I can’t help but wonder. I haven’t told him about that run-in with Nash a while back. I’m not even sure whether it would be worth telling him about it in the first place. Why start trouble where there doesn’t need to be any?
Besides, I don’t want to ruin this time together. Things are bad enough without me bringing drama that may or may not exist into the mix.
Eventually, I’m going to have to leave this room. Not only because it would be unhealthy for me to become a recluse. Life, such as it is, needs to go on. There’s a limit to the allowances people are willing to make for the grieving.
“How did you do it?” I whisper, threading my fingers through his.
“Do what?”
“How did you go on with life when you hurt so much over Adela?” His sharp intake of breath tells me I hit a nerve. I knew I would. He still doesn’t talk much about her, though at least he doesn’t have to pretend with me that she’s still alive.
“I can’t imagine having to pretend,” I confess. “But on the outside, you were fine. Normal.”
He blurts out a dark laugh. “Normal? I’m not sure I know what that means.”
“You weren’t a basket case the way I am now.”
“You didn’t see me when it first happened,” he reminds me in a quiet voice. At least he isn’t angry with me for bringing her up. “As for carrying on with life, you’ve done the same. I know you’re tired of hearing this by now, but you’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for.” It’s like the same song stuck on an endless loop.
That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate his encouragement. “I wish I saw myself as strong. I mean, I’ve broken down. I can’t stand the thought of being away from you for the twenty minutes it took you to see the doctor and come back.”
When he reaches for me, I scoot across the bed so he can wrap me in his arms. I lower my head to his chest, pressing my cheek against it, listening to his heart's steady, reassuring beat. “I don’t like leaving you either,” he admits. “It isn’t easy for me to know you’re hurting and know there’s nothing I can do to take the hurt away. I can only try to help you through it.”
“And you are.” My arms slide around him, linking behind his back. He’s my lifeline, the one thing keeping me grounded. Holding me together when it feels like the slightest jolt will leave me shattered in a million pieces.
No, it’s better that I don’t say anything about Nash now. I don’t want to bring him or anybody else into our world. Not while I have him like this.