I have no idea what the weeks ahead hold for her, but I know she’ll need her strength, both mentally and physically. Her class load is lighter this semester, as she wanted to get more time with her dad at the hospital. But now that he’s back, I’ve got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that she’s going to push herself harder. If she can’t put all her energy into helping her dad, she’ll do it in whatever is next on her list. And that’s school.
The girl goes hard when she needs to focus on something. But she also crashes harder. I’ve known her to take a weekend off here and there, to veg in front of her gaming system for hours on end and then rest longer than usual. But this? Cuddling up to me? Sleeping on my chest and allowing me to be in her space?
This isn’t like her. And that’s what worries me.
I didn’t think anything could break her, and I’ve seen her go through a lot. She cracked but never broke. I wonder if this has finally tipped her over.
And if it has, I’m still not sure if I should be thankful for it or not. This closeness? Her allowing this? It couldchange the second she wakes up. I’ve been mentally preparing for the sparring. For her to push me away.
Something I don’t want her to do but know will be the right move. And for her? I’d do anything. Even if it kills me.
I slowly move my head and tilt it down to look at her. I learned quickly since being here that she frowns when I move too much, as if I’ve disturbed her slumber in some way. And her frowning is something I don’t like causing. Not anymore. I used to find joy in bringing it to her face. But like everything else, that’s changed.
Her face is inches from mine as it rests on my shoulder, her hand on my chest and one of her legs bent over mine. I have my arm wrapped around her. It’s completely numb from the position, but a lost limb is a small price to pay.
I move my free hand and brush the small hairs off her face. I’m gentle. Soft. Barely touching her. But I can’t let go. Now that I’ve touched her, it seems impossible to stop. I lower my hand and tentatively touch the tips of her braids, playing with the ends after the bindings. It’s coarser at the tips, but I like the feeling of it stabbing my hand softly.
“Any news on my dad?”
I don’t jump or stop what I’m doing. I don’t even look at her. Her breathing changed the second I pushed her hair off her face. I should have known she would wake soon after. I was just hoping I had more time. Still, it doesn’t deter me in the slightest.
“General texted a while back. They have him resting.”
“Any memory change?” The small bit of hope that I’m sure she’s trying hard to hide from me snuck through in those three words. Enough that I stop touching her hair and look her in the eyes when I shake my head.
She breaks first and looks away. But she doesn’t move. Not off me, anyway. Just her hand, and she plays with the fabric of my gray T-shirt. I swallow and will my body not to react. Not to think what it would feel like if my shirt was gone and her hand was on my bare chest.
Her stomach grumbling has me reacting more than anything.
“You need food.”
“I need a lot of things,” she mumbles, but doesn’t move off me.
I slowly move my arm, the one she slept on, and let my hand glide over her locks. I don’t run my hands through it like I want. She’s not ready for this. But a soft glide she allows.
When her stomach breaks the silence again, I smile. “Got any preferences?”
“Wings.” It’s instant, and my hand stills for a second. She tilts her head up and looks me in the eye, challenging me and yet daring me to call her out on it. But I don’t.
“I might know a place.”
A small smirk hits her lips for a second. “Of course you do.” It’s gone in the next breath, just like her, rolling off me and the bed. “Going to change.” She pulls some clothes from her drawers and keeps her back to me. “Check on Dad, will you?”
I nod, not that she can see. I roll off opposite her and grab my stuff as I head for the door. “Take your time.”
“Always do,” she mutters just before I close the door, and I breathe a sigh of relief. That one quip lets me know that while Ruby is broken, she’s not lost. Not completely.
I dial up General, but he doesn’t answer. Could be a million and one reasons why. That it’s close to the middle of the night and he’s sleeping is logical. But most likely, he’s in the middle of some doctor thing and can’t take the call.
I text Mad Max next. Law might be awake, but till he’s able to handle shit on his own, Mad Max will be there to protect him.
Anything new?
No.
I know he won’t elaborate. He’s a man of few words. However, when he has something to say, he does. That’s why I don’t push it. His answer is all I need to know. There’s nothing Ruby or I can do tonight to help if we go back there.
I put on my vest and finish lacing up my boots when she comes into the living room. Her usual getup is gone. No corset, nothing tight. Just baggyjoggers and an oversized shirt that’s so faded I can’t tell what the name going down the side of it is.
