Sweet Little Nothing

"Thank you," I whisper, sagging back against the couch. "For everything.” I swipe my index fingers beneath my eyes, wiping away my tears. “The flowers are beautiful.”

"I'm glad you like them. I picked each bloom myself."

"Why?"

"Well," he says, taking one sandwich from the microwave and swapping it for another. "The purple hyacinth, because it symbolizes asking for forgiveness. Yellow lilies because I'm thankful you're still here. The roses, I imagine are fairly obvious. And, the daffodils are for new beginnings. I know they don't really go together—the florist damn sure tried talking me out of it—but they all mean something and, yeah." He shrugs, trying to play it cool.

Meanwhile, I'm on the verge of tears over his thoughtfulness.

"The package next," he reminds me.

I don't know how anything could top the flowers, but I tear into it all the same.

A delighted smile lights up my face when I see the contents inside of the box. "Are you serious?" I ask.

"Very much so."

"Sterling!"

"What? I know you like them."

"This is too much," I say, gesturing to the package, which contains at least six packs of Oreos, all in different seasonal flavors.

"Speak for yourself," Stella says tartly. "I'll gladly help you eat them."

I roll my eyes at her and thank him. "Seriously, this is too much."

"There's no such thing as too much when it comes to you. Now, onto the basket."

I untie the bow from around the top of the gift basket, letting the cellophane fall away. Inside, there's an insulated mug with mountain peaks etched into it, along with the words feels like home. There are also several bags of coffee from Holy Roasters along with a gift card and a new hoodie that's softer than anything I've ever felt before.

"Thank you. So much."

"I think there's one more thing," he says, trying to sound nonchalant.

I glance back down to the basket, and sure enough there's a lanyard of some sort. As I grab it, I notice there's a key dangling from the end. "What's this?"

"A key to my place."

"What? Why?"

"Don't panic, baby. Consider it a safe space if you ever need to get away. The locks have been changed, and that key there is the only spare. I also have a new security system."

My heart pitter-patters, doing a happy little dance in my chest. "Thank you."

He simply smiles in response.

The microwave dings, and Sterling grabs the final sandwich. Stella and I quickly move everything to the floor so we can eat. A happy quiet settles over us, and for the first time in a long time, contentment flows through me.

"What do you have planned for today?" Sterling asks once we finish eating.

I shrug. "I guess I need to find a therapist. And figure out stuff for my classes. Oh, God, I can only imagine how behind I am."

"Hey, I'll help you get it sorted out, okay?"

I smile gratefully. "But before any of that, I need a shower. I was too tired yesterday, and I swear, I can feel the hospital on my skin."

"We'll clean up out here," Stella says, gathering our plates.

"Thanks." I grab my new hoodie before darting into my room for a pair of jeans and a bra.

I'm already anticipating the relief the hot water will bring to my sore muscles, but the second I'm inside, panic floods my system.

My skin feels too tight for my body, and the walls feel like they're closing in on me. My vision pinpricks, and I can't seem to take in a full breath.

Suddenly, flashes of me lying on the floor, fading away to nothing, assault me.

A broken sob spills out of me as I crumble to the floor. "Oh my God," I cry, holding my knees to my chest as I rock in the fetal position.

The bathroom door bursts open, and Sterling rushes in and pulls me up into his strong arms. "Oh, baby. I'm so sorry."

I'm crying too hard to respond.

He walks us out to the couch and sits, keeping me on his lap and his arms locked tightly around me. His touch is the only thing grounding me right now, the only thing keeping me from completely breaking down.

"I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this," I whisper over and over, clutching at his shirt.

He whispers soothing words into my ear, while Stella watches on helplessly.

Sterling continues to hold me, rocking and whispering, until finally, I regain some sense of composure.

"How am I supposed to stay here?" I wail.

"Don't," Sterling says, "don't stay here."

My heart sinks. He wants me to leave.

"Move in with me."

Just as fast, my heart soars, buoying itself to the surface. My brain, however, quickly shuts it all down. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. It seems really sudden, and I don't want to make any rash decisions." I'm trying to be logical, but it's hard when my entire being is practically begging me to say yes.