eyes turning back toward the window.
After the quick ride to my house, I pull into the drive and hop out. When I open Mea’s door for her, she startles.
Had that asshole done something else to scare her so badly? I can’t fathom that; he was just some drunk dipshit. I know Mea well enough to know that some guy manhandling her a little bit in a bar wouldn’t rattle her this much. I’m pretty surprised she didn’t deck the dude herself. That’s just the kind of girl she is. A tough girl.
But tonight she was stuck. She was lodged somewhere between terrified and overwhelmed, and she couldn’t pull herself out. What could have made her react that way?
We walk silently into the house and I close the door behind Mea. She stands there in tight black jeans with black motorcycle boots, a sparkly red sweater, and a black leather jacket. She’s hotter than an August afternoon, but all I want to do right now is make her feel safe.
“Tired? Hungry?” I ask.
She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture doesn’t seem sassy or surly like the usual Mea, though. It’s more like she’s closing herself in, protecting herself. She curls inward, something I’ve never seen her do except for when she was leaving me the night I met her.
“I’m just…” She sighs, trailing off.
Without another word, I lead her back toward my bedroom. As I’m turning down the covers on my bed, I glance at her and see she’s still standing in the doorway.
“I’ll get you something to sleep in.” My voice is gruffer than I want it to be. I just can’t stand seeing her like this. It hurts.
“I’m…I’m okay you know, Drake.” When I look at her she lifts her chin the slightest bit, and the determined gleam is back in her eyes. I almost sigh with relief until I see that her hands are still trembling. “I always am.”
I walk slowly forward until I’m standing right in front of her. She holds her ground beside the bed. I take both of her shaking hands in my own and hold them close to my heart. I don’t talk until those thick-lashed dark brown eyes are staring into mine. Inside them flecks of emerald green are swimming in the chocolate.
Deep, deep, deep.
Deep enough to drown in.
“No, you’re not okay. And it’s fine for you not to be okay sometimes, you know? I know how strong you are…we all do. It’s not something you have to prove. Not with me.”
She struggles. I can see the battle happening within her. It’s clear in the way she tenses her jaw, in the way her expression turns pleading and needy, in the way her fingers squeeze mine. She’s drawing me in at the exact same time that she’s pushing me away. I wish I could read her struggle. I wish it were a book I could open and devour, page by page. So I could understand. So I could help.
When I’m with her, I forget to drown in my own pain and failure. I just want to absorb hers.
She closes her eyes, and the connection is broken. Dropping her hands, she wrings them together and takes a step back. She falls onto the bed. Glancing around the room, toward the floor, anywhere but at me, she whispers.
“I don’t want to kick you out of your bed again.”
I grunt. “Doesn’t matter. It’s yours if you need it.”
She nods, and then looks directly at me. “Thank you, Drake. For…all of it.”
Nodding, I turn and leave her alone in my bed.
Again.
A scream cuts through my sleep and I bolt upright on the couch. I’m instantly completely alert, my eyes searching the darkness of my living room. My back is ramrod straight, my bare feet planted on the carpet. The fuck?
And then I remember Mea.
Another scream slices me up, and I’m up and in the bedroom in seconds. In the doorway, I reach out to the dresser and flick on a low light. It’s enough for me to assess the situation in a glance.
Mea, tangled up in sheets, is thrashing in the bed. She’s asleep, but her breathing is coming in gasps and she’s sobbing.
“No, no, no!” Her
After the quick ride to my house, I pull into the drive and hop out. When I open Mea’s door for her, she startles.
Had that asshole done something else to scare her so badly? I can’t fathom that; he was just some drunk dipshit. I know Mea well enough to know that some guy manhandling her a little bit in a bar wouldn’t rattle her this much. I’m pretty surprised she didn’t deck the dude herself. That’s just the kind of girl she is. A tough girl.
But tonight she was stuck. She was lodged somewhere between terrified and overwhelmed, and she couldn’t pull herself out. What could have made her react that way?
We walk silently into the house and I close the door behind Mea. She stands there in tight black jeans with black motorcycle boots, a sparkly red sweater, and a black leather jacket. She’s hotter than an August afternoon, but all I want to do right now is make her feel safe.
“Tired? Hungry?” I ask.
She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture doesn’t seem sassy or surly like the usual Mea, though. It’s more like she’s closing herself in, protecting herself. She curls inward, something I’ve never seen her do except for when she was leaving me the night I met her.
“I’m just…” She sighs, trailing off.
Without another word, I lead her back toward my bedroom. As I’m turning down the covers on my bed, I glance at her and see she’s still standing in the doorway.
“I’ll get you something to sleep in.” My voice is gruffer than I want it to be. I just can’t stand seeing her like this. It hurts.
“I’m…I’m okay you know, Drake.” When I look at her she lifts her chin the slightest bit, and the determined gleam is back in her eyes. I almost sigh with relief until I see that her hands are still trembling. “I always am.”
I walk slowly forward until I’m standing right in front of her. She holds her ground beside the bed. I take both of her shaking hands in my own and hold them close to my heart. I don’t talk until those thick-lashed dark brown eyes are staring into mine. Inside them flecks of emerald green are swimming in the chocolate.
Deep, deep, deep.
Deep enough to drown in.
“No, you’re not okay. And it’s fine for you not to be okay sometimes, you know? I know how strong you are…we all do. It’s not something you have to prove. Not with me.”
She struggles. I can see the battle happening within her. It’s clear in the way she tenses her jaw, in the way her expression turns pleading and needy, in the way her fingers squeeze mine. She’s drawing me in at the exact same time that she’s pushing me away. I wish I could read her struggle. I wish it were a book I could open and devour, page by page. So I could understand. So I could help.
When I’m with her, I forget to drown in my own pain and failure. I just want to absorb hers.
She closes her eyes, and the connection is broken. Dropping her hands, she wrings them together and takes a step back. She falls onto the bed. Glancing around the room, toward the floor, anywhere but at me, she whispers.
“I don’t want to kick you out of your bed again.”
I grunt. “Doesn’t matter. It’s yours if you need it.”
She nods, and then looks directly at me. “Thank you, Drake. For…all of it.”
Nodding, I turn and leave her alone in my bed.
Again.
A scream cuts through my sleep and I bolt upright on the couch. I’m instantly completely alert, my eyes searching the darkness of my living room. My back is ramrod straight, my bare feet planted on the carpet. The fuck?
And then I remember Mea.
Another scream slices me up, and I’m up and in the bedroom in seconds. In the doorway, I reach out to the dresser and flick on a low light. It’s enough for me to assess the situation in a glance.
Mea, tangled up in sheets, is thrashing in the bed. She’s asleep, but her breathing is coming in gasps and she’s sobbing.
“No, no, no!” Her
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