Gracie Mae is the kind of woman who always thinks of others before thinking about herself.
I narrow my eyes down at her playfully and I lower my voice. “Who said anything about sleeping?”
She laughs softly but the concern doesn’t waver. I see her heart on her sleeve bleeding for me. And I see the questions that begged to be answered in that mind of hers.
And she deserves to have them answered.
“But if I sleep here tonight you won’t have the comfort of your own bed.”
“Want to know something, Grace?” She hums in response. I avert my gaze and swallow thickly. How do I tell her that more often than not I don’t sleep on my bed but prefer the cold and unforgiving floor? That the comfort of the mattress is too much to bare and the warmness of the blankets suffocates me? How doI tell her that the last woman who shared my bed woke up in a living nightmare?
Instantly she rushes to say, “Oak, you don’t have to-”
My eyes flash to hers. “But I do,” I say thickly, my tongue feeling like lead in my mouth. “You deserve a man who is as vulnerable and open as you are. A man who isn’t afraid to bare himself to you in all ways.”
She squeezes my hand and smiles sympathetically. “I know that it’s hard for you. You’ve had these walls up for so long it’s hard for you to come to terms with the fact that they’re knocked down. But I would never hurt you or judge you. I’m here for you. I promise you that.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re perfect?”
Shaking her head she tells me, “No one is perfect.”
“You are,” I stress and bring my forehead down to rest on the top of her head. I breathe her in, the scent of jasmine and sex filling my nostrils. “You’re perfect to me.” I then kiss the top of her head. Having her close and not able to see my eyes I confess, “I hardly sleep in my bed since I’ve returned. The nightmares are the worst, most vivid and painful, when I’m sleeping in my bed.”
“Oak.” My name is a broken breath on her lips.
“And I uh-” I try to find the words for what I’m about to say next, but my throat doesn’t want to let them out. I swallow thickly, my jaw tense. “I don’t have control of myself when I’m in that state.”
She shifts underneath to try and see my face but I keep her hidden so I can continue to confess my darkest sins. “And five years ago a woman suffered the consequences because of that. And I swore to myself I wouldn’t be intimate with a woman or lie beside a woman ever again.”
“It’s not your fault, Oak.”
I laugh bitterly. “It is, Grace. If my mind wasn’t fucked up I wouldn’t have believed there was an enemy in my bed.I wouldn’t have had my hands wrapped around her throat.” I choke on the words at the end and I feel the bile pressing at the back of my throat. Acid sits at the pit of my stomach. It’s taking everything in me not to get sick.
Then she finally does manage to turn. And she cups my face in her hands. I can’t bare to look in her eyes so I shut mine and have my head hung low in defeat. “Look at me, Oak. Please,” she begs of me and I have no choice but to adhere to her wishes.
When I look in her eyes I expect to see disgust. I expect to see harsh judgement and even horror.
But I see none of that.
I see nothing but compassion and empathy.
“You weren’t in control,” she says to me, her voice steady and firm. “You we’re still living in your nightmare. Stuck living in a memory that you couldn’t escape.”
My jaw ticks as bitterness coats my tongue. “It doesn’t change what happened, Grace. I did that.”
“Not intentionally,” she implores, begging me with her eyes to listen to her. “You were acting out the nightmare because of your PTSD. It had you defending yourself because you were being attacked. You didn’t intentionally hurt her, Oak. You’re not that type of man.”
“I can never fall asleep beside you, Grace,” I tell her, my voice heavy with sorrow but also nonnegotiable.
Her thumb brushes along my cheekbone and I close my eyes, succumbing to her soothing touch. “One day you will.”
“Grace-” I start but she’s having none of it.
“You will, Oak. One day you’ll have the peace that you’ve been fighting so hard for. I promise you that.”
A broken growl breaks pass my lips as I haul her in my arms and press her flush against my body.
Her bare skin against my own is a soothing balm to my tortured soul.
