Catching Teardrops (MAC Security 5)

“Do what?” she asks, slipping past me and looking into the bedroom before heading into the living room and pulling the cover off the two-seater sofa.

“Put on a brave face. You don’t have to do that with me, Lily.” She doesn’t look at me, all her focus on the task in front of her as she takes the sheet off the coffee table too and starts folding them into a neat pile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, still not looking at me.

Reaching out, I place my hand on her arm, stopping what she’s doing and waiting until she looks up at me. After a beat, her blue eyes connect with mine and I bend at the knees, bringing our faces to the same level.

“You can be you with me, angel. You don’t have to pretend to be okay. You wanna scream and shout? You go on ahead and do it.” I pause, bringing my hand to her face and cupping her cheek. “You wanna cry until you ain’t got any more tears? You do it and I’ll be here to hold you.” I step forward. “But don’t give me your fake smile and act like everything is okay.”

I listen as she takes a deep breath, waiting for her reaction, and when she opens her mouth, I don’t expect her to say, “Is that what you want?” Her eyes mist over, but I see the steel in her not to let the tears slip free. “You want me to be the fragile girl who cries all day and night? Who screams ‘why me?’” She shakes her head, stepping back so I’m no longer touching her. “I already told you, Luke. I don’t need a superhero, I can save myself.”

Running my hand through my hair, I grip it, relishing in the sting it causes. “I’m not tryin’ to be your goddamn superhero!” I growl, spinning around and walking toward the kitchen before turning back to face her. “I may not know what it feels like to go through what you went through yesterday, but I know what it’s like to live with evil. A man who would use his fists and control every single fuckin’ day.” My chest rises and falls, my breaths coming faster as I smack my palm off my chest. “I grew up with a man like that too. So when I see your fake fuckin’ smile, I know it’s there to show everyone you’re okay.” I pause, trying to pull myself together, but something about Lily has me losing my mind and my lips loose when it comes to my past. “But inside I know you’re fuckin’ dying. You’re begging someone to come and save you, crawling on your hands and knees to escape the darkness, to move toward the light.” Her hand moves to her mouth, tears now flowing freely down her face, and part of me feels bad for causing it, but the other part of me is grateful she’s at least letting it out and not keeping it locked up inside. That shit isn’t good for anybody. “You can’t do that behind fake smiles and trying to save yourself, Lily. I’m offering my help, so stop being so stubborn and take it.”

I stop my rant, letting the only sounds in the room fill the air—my breathing and the sound of her tears—and when she finally takes a step toward me, her face crumbling in agony, I know I went too far, but maybe that’s what she needed?

“I can’t get the feel of him off me,” she whispers, hiccupping a sob.

“I can’t stop seeing him over me… holding me down… I don’t want him to take up all my headspace.” She continues toward me, stopping a couple of feet in front of me. “I want to push it away, start over… not have to think about it. But I… I don’t know how.” She shakes her head. “Not without the fake smiles and the front I’m used to putting on.”

“Darlin’, you can put that front on all you want, but when it’s just you and me, you let that shit slide away. You don’t have to be strong with me. Got it?”

She watches me for a beat, hope in her eyes before whispering, “Got it.”

LILY

I stare out the window, the dark night sky clear, the moon shining brighter than it ever has. My thoughts swirl inside my head, not stopping on any one in particular as they whirl around. I want to shut them down, turn them off, but nothing I do seems to stop them.

At least not since Luke left a few hours ago.

I keep telling myself that I don’t need him, that he doesn’t make a difference. It’s all a lie though. If it wasn’t for him, I have no idea where I’d be. In my body and in my mind.

The straight way he talks to me, no bullshit coating over the veiled words is refreshing. He says it how it is, and for once in my life, I’m relishing in it.

Only now he’s gone and isn’t coming back for several days. I get it, he has a life, but I can’t help wanting him to come back to me. To sit next to me, not a word said out loud but thousands of things being spoken with one look.

The crawling sensation finally subsided with him keeping me busy—keeping me safe—but now that I’m on my own it itches, burns, craves to be scrubbed away.

Every little noise has me jumping out of my skin. There’s no way anyone can know where I am, there just isn’t. Not even Kim knows where we’re staying, only that I’m safe. It doesn’t stop me from getting out of bed and going to check all the doors and windows are locked though. For a millisecond I feel safe, that is until the wind bashes a branch against the side of the house.

The wooden, one-story house brings the outside in, which sounds nice, until you’re on your own… in the dark. Grabbing the comforter off the bed, I sit down on the sofa, wrapping it around me while keeping my gaze attached to the cell Luke gave me.

The minutes slip by, each one later than I should be awake.

Maybe I should call him? Tell him I’m scared. But the woman inside of me that wants to be independent shouts not to, however the girl screams for me to pick up the cell and dial the only number saved in it.

I pick it up, debating whether I should or not, but the choice is made for me when it starts to vibrate in my palm.

I click the answer button with lighting speed, not letting my brain think about it for a second before bringing it up to my ear and answering with a, “Hello?”

“Hey, darlin’.”

The sound of his rough voice over the speaker has a genuine smile gracing my face. “Hey.”

His breath comes over the line before he asks, “Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” I counter, leaning back against the sofa and cuddling up inside the comforter.

“Just got home,” he grunts out, not expanding on it any more than that. I want to ask him where he’s been, but I know I can’t. I have no right to know where he was or what he was doing.