Rushing to Lana, I console her. “Baby, it’s okay I’m here.” She looks up at me, her eyes red, fear marking her startled face. I swoop her up and lay her down on the bed. Climbing in next to her, I enclose my arms around her shaking form.
“Shh, Lana it’s okay, shh.” I rock her, her shakes and sobs are powerful, I can feel them moving me with each one.
“I’m sorry, Kings. I’m so sorry,” she cries.
“Lana, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have left you like that. I shouldn’t have let us go to bed fighting again.” I should know better, I know damn well when we fight it can trigger her nightmares.
“I pushed you to get angry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.”
“I wasn’t angry, I was hurt.” She turns and nestles into me. “You don’t deserve this, you deserve someone who isn’t damaged goods.”
I hiss, “That wouldn’t ever happen, you are not damaged goods. You’re mine, my woman, my goods.” She flinches at the mention of being mine. A trigger she associates with violence and a word I use to show my devotion.
“I’m my own person, not anyone else’s,” her whisper is low and as much as I wish I didn’t hear it, I did. But arguing with her or trying to prove my point would be a total asshat move right now.
“Want to talk about the dream?” I feel her head sweep back and forth against my chest, pushing me out.
“Okay.” I don’t press her farther. I keep thinking we may round a corner, but there’s always a road block waiting to destroy us around the bend.
Kingston and I haven’t talked much today, just sh
aring quiet awkward glances and one word acknowledgments. Our fight was just another reminder why I need to see someone or learn to cope better with my post-traumatic stress.
Joel’s attack. When I think about it for longer than a few seconds I can start to feel the pain in my side and the copper taste of blood flooding my taste buds. It’s such a potent memory, something that scarred me for life. I will never be able to undo or unfeel anything he did to me that night nor all those years.
I look at Kingston’s still form next to me, the flight isn’t completely full today, so we don’t have too many people near us, just a cute old lady on the other side of the aisle. She has to be hard of hearing, the flight attendant practically had to yell in her ear to get her drink order. She’s adorable.
Kings won’t say much to me, he’s stayed completely still the past thirty minutes, taking small sips of his water before going back to playing with his lip, lost in his own thoughts. We never made up, he only held me through the aftershocks of my horrific nightmare. I woke up this morning to him packing and getting ready to leave. Still, Kingston took care of me. He may be ignoring me and pissed as hell, but I woke to see my stuff packed and a fresh pair of clothes set aside for me.
I look over my attire and any woman looking at me would know I either wore this with a man in mind or a man picked my outfit. I’m wearing a pair of frayed daisy duke shorts and V-neck black t-shirt that fits too tight. I smile knowing even upset, he still takes care of me, then instantly I fall down the slope of regret because he deserves better, better than what I can give. I’m such a coward. A tease. Joel did always say I was a slut who loved being a cocktease, maybe he was right this whole time.
A cold shiver harasses my spine at the thought. “Baby?” I look to Kings, who finally breaks his ice stone posture.
“Hmm?” He looks over to me, still resting his cheek against his palm, where his poor large arm barely fits on the small armrest.
“I’m cold. Can I have your sweater?”
Questioning me with the twitch of his brows he nods his head ‘yes’ after a few seconds. Reaching his hand behind his head and giving me a show of those sexy tatted arms, he pulls his light weight zip up hoodie off the seat and hands it to me. He watches me lift my legs and cross them in front of me on the seat and cover myself in his jacket.
I wield him in my mind to go back to whatever he was thinking about before I stopped him, but he doesn’t. Instead he stays looking at me, with purpose.
“You’re killing me, baby.”
“I know Kings. I know.” He doesn’t mean it in a good way. I’m not playing fair and I know that. “I wish I was like other girls. I wish I didn’t live every day with reservations.”
“Me either.”
“I think we need to take some time apart.” I chew on my lip and avoid direct eye contact with him after I deliver the blow. I expect him to scoff and tell me to dream on like he has in the past, but instead he just nods.
“Okay,” he replies.
“Okay.”
What the fuck just happened? How did he agree to that so easily? Did I even want that to happen or am I just playing part of the game? All these questions are left unanswered because I’m completely blindsided by the reality of what this time apart means or what it could do to us. So I guess the more important question is, what did I just do?
The rest of the plane ride is me internally screaming at myself for being such a monster and him spending it quiet with his headphones in ignoring me, while I beg for him to beg for me. I’m sick.
“I missed you, you look all tan!” Shayla says, taking her place next to me while I dress the mannequin. This is her first day back from her honeymoon in Paris. Kingston and I have been home for nearly a week, we still are not talking much. He will text me at night to make sure I’m okay, but there has been no contact physically at all. I miss having his body keeping me warm at night and his funny one liners and cocky attitude engaging me.