And for reasons I can’t understand… I feel lighter somehow.
There’s a calm within me… and this warm pulsing in my chest. It’s not hard or erratic. It’s a slow, even beat, telling me that I’m okay, whispering that this man holding on to me is good and kind and…
He’d never hurt me the way Atlas did.
As much as I hate to acknowledge it, Atlasdidhurt me that night. He cut me deep, and we were never able to resolve things. It’s eaten away at me, a festering disease masked by guilt and shame.
Maybe it’s been wrong of me to try and keep his memory so pure. If his life hadn’t ended that night, I probably would have had a massive bitch and moan to my sister, then sat Atlas down and told it to him straight.
But I never did either of those things.
And I never told anyone close to me what really went down that night. I’d told them I’d left because I was tired, not because Atlas told me to fuck off.
Now that I’ve opened that door again, the memory comes back to me crystal clear. Atlas’s glazed, drunken expression. His slurred words. The pain he inflicted when he snarled at me.
I was soangrywith him.
But deep down, I knew he still cared about me. And that’s what hurts. He didn’t mean to say those things, and we never got to resolve it.
Nothing you do will ever change that. It’s time to let go.
Running my fingers lightly down Tyrell’s arm, I press my lips against his skin and shift my focus. I close that door in my brain and instead take a mental note of every point my body is touching this man behind me. I relive the date night, the laughter, the fun, the sex. I soak in the knowledge that Tyrell isn’t a reckless rock star. He’s a good, kind, solid man. And even though he’s so different to Atlas, he’s gone and found a way into my heart. Not just in that sisterly affectionate way I used to feel for him, but in that giddy romantic way.
Just like his arms are wrapped around me now, he’s claiming my heart, wrapping around it and holding it securely.
He won’t break it the way Atlas did.
I don’t know how I know it; I just do.
I’m safe with him.
My belly trembles as I dare to skip ahead to the future. Should I let myself go there? Do I risk imagining a life on the road with him? A life overseas, exploring different countries and cultures. Do I let myself dream of waking up beside him each morning? Or making him coffee and eating breakfast in bed?
A smile curls my lips, the idea sending a delighted thrill right through me.
I can do this.
I can be with Tyrell and love it.
It’s okay to love it. You’re allowed to move on.
Sucking in a quiet breath, I slowly move Tyrell’s arm, desperate not to wake him. Wriggling away from his deliciously warm body, I shuffle to the edge of the bed, then sneak into the kitchen, closing the door behind me.
The space is empty, thank God, so I set about preparing coffee. I wonder if anyone heard me wailing last night. I wince, really hoping that even if they did, they won’t say anything about it. I so don’t want to go there.
I want to bask in this newfound peace I’m feeling.
I want to revel in these bubbles of joy that keep popping in my chest.
Shit. I’m happy.
Like… really happy.
A soft giggle comes out of me just as Tobin swans into the kitchen.
“Good morning,machérie.”He kisses my cheek.
“Good morning.” I smile at him, pressing coffee grounds into the portafilter basket with the tamper.
