Will this really be home from now on?
Can anywhere feel like home when I’m an outcast?
When we walk inside, Mrs. Lawson turns from where she’s washing the dishes and asks, “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Colton answers.
Feeling overly self-conscious, I follow Colton up the stairs and into a guestroom. There’s a bed and a bedside table, and the walls are painted a generic white. I place the bag next to the one Colton sets down.
Colton walks to the door, and I begin to wonder what I should do now, but instead of him leaving, he shuts it. When he comes to take a seat on the edge of the bed, he pats the space next to him.
I sit down and wring my hands anxiously, sure I’m in trouble after the stunt I pulled.
If only I had the guts to go through with it, everything would be over by now.
“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs.
I swallow hard on the lump in my throat and feeling miserable, I mutter, “I didn’t mean to upset you.” My insides clench into a tight ball as I admit, “I panicked when you saw the poster. I don’t want you looking at me the way the other students do. I thought it would be better just to end it all, but I didn’t have the guts to go through with it.” I suck in a shaky breath. “And then my mother kept taunting me… and… it was just hard.”
There’s a moment's silence, then Colton says, “I’m not going to pretend I know the right thing to say, but…” He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his body toward mine, resting his right knee on the mattress. “Please give me a chance. I promise to try my hardest to make everything okay and to protect you.”
He won’t always be there, and I can’t expect him to either.
“Brie,” he whispers. “Please, look at me.”
Feeling too ashamed, I can only shake my head. I shut my eyes against the constant bombardment of humiliation and dejection.
I feel Colton move closer, and then his arms wrap around me, and he pulls me to his chest. I’m too battered to put up much of a fight against the threatening tears, and a sob rips through me, robbing me of my breath.
Colton presses a kiss to the side of my head, and then he whispers, “God, Brie. I wish you’d believe me when I say you’re not alone anymore. I know the past two days have been shit, but it will get better. I promise.”
I pull a little back, and with a trembling hand, I wipe the tears from my face while mumbling, “It’s not that I don’t believe you.”
Colton tilts his head, and there’s so much worry and empathy on his face as he asks, “What then?”
“It’s just…” I let out an exhausted sigh, “it’s too much.” My chin begins to tremble again, but I swallow hard, miserably whispering, “And like I said before, it bothers me that you saw it.”
“The poster?” Colton’s hand settles on my back, and he rubs soothingly over it. “I don’t care about shit like that, Brie. I’m just pissed off with that bastard for hurting you again.”
I shake my head and needing him to understand, I admit, “You saw me…” I shut my eyes as I force the word out, “naked.”
Everyone did.
“Hey,” Colton murmurs, and bringing his hands to my face, he nudges me to look at him. It’s too hard, and I focus on his neck. “It was only from behind, and besides the fact that Michael is an absolute dick for doing that, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Not agreeing, I shake my head.
“Brie, you’re beautiful.” His words are soft and warm, and they make my eyes slowly inch up until I meet his gaze. “Yeah, it sucks that everybody saw you naked but,” he shakes his head, and his eyes are intense as they’re locked on mine, “at the risk of sounding like a pervert, you have one hell of a hot body.”
I can only stare at Colton because no one has ever said anything like that to me.
He thinks I’m pretty. That I’m hot.
Is it out of pity or because he really thinks that?
Still, it revives some of my obliterated self-esteem.
The corner of Colton’s mouth lifts. “This is where you slap me for saying something inappropriate.”
I shake my head. I’ll never be able to hurt him.
“At least tell me to shut up before I keep going and embarrass us both.” He scrunches his nose, and it’s so cute a smile wavers around my mouth. “Do you feel better?”
I lift my hand and indicate ‘a little’ with my thumb and pointer finger an inch apart.
“What will make you feel better?”
There’s only one thing, and I face plant against him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.