“Three.”
The exhale feels like letting go of something I’ve been holding onto for way too long.
He kneels in front of me. Takes both my hands. Then he squeezes.
“Again,” he instructs. “And squeeze with each breath.”
I obey him.
And...
I feel better.
I look into his eyes. Instead of the predatory expression that usually consumes his vision whenever he touches me, I see... tenderness.
And it brings sudden tears to my eyes.
I blink them away, averting my gaze.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Everything’s okay. Just breath.”
I do.
Then he hugs me.
He holds me like that for the longest time. Just holding me. Making sure I’m okay.
I breath into his shoulder, feeling so relaxed, so safe.
Cherished.
I want him to never let go.
I want to stay in this momentforever.
I feel the hot breath of his words as he whispers in my ear. “Tell me.”
I hesitate. “Tell you what?”
That I love you?
“What happened,” he continues. “The real story. Not the half-truth you gave me earlier.”
Oh.
My face goes hot. Because of course he knew I was holding back. He always knows.
“I—”
I want to tell him.
And yet... at the same time, I don’t.
I’m not even sure I have it in me to reveal this deepest, darkest, most fragile part of myself to him.
He waits. Doesn’t say anything further. Doesn’t try to prod me.
Just waits.
