I feel empty.
Alone.
Everything we spoke about goes flying out the window and I’m right back in my house.
The edges of my vision blur and the cut across my back stings like he’s cutting me all over again. My bones ache as though I’m being pushed from halfway down the stairs after trying to escape. Sweat clings to my body like the heavy rain falling from the sky as I crawled my way to Tanner’s house…
Pushing up from my seat, I try to hold back the tears begging to be set free, and hop into my waiting area. My office has large windows so I can see the front door from my desk, and I usually lock it, closing the thick, plush curtains, when I have a client. It stays unlocked the rest of the time, but not today.
The thought of someone walking in, unannounced, is playing havoc with my blood pressure.
It takes me longer than usual to get to the door with having to either hop or lean on furniture, but the sense of accomplishment makes me smile to myself as I twist the key in the lock and latch the chain. My breathing steadies a little, relieved that there is now an extra obstacle between me and the world. Not that it helped that night, because my house had been all locked up too.
The relief doesn’t last long.
Swallowing hard, I make my way back to my office with trembling limbs, close the door, twist the latch, draw the curtains, and sit beneath my desk. This is the total opposite of the strong and confident woman I’m trying so desperately to be in the aftermath of what happened, and maybe Tanner was right. It might be too soon to be back at work.
The ringing between my ears gets louder when there’s a knock at the front door, followed by a heavy bang and shouting, and I don’t know how long it goes on for. I’m too physically numb to care, but that damn ringing is incorrigible.
“Hey, Berkleigh, look at me. Come on, Sweet Bee, open your eyes.”
Pressure against my cheeks makes the ringing stop, and I realize the sound was me. My screams. My cries. My pleas for them to stop.
Tanner’s thumbs are wiping away stray tears and he’s right there. In front of me. With concern making his eyebrows furrow harder than ever before.
“There she is.” Pulling me from beneath my desk, he sits me on his lap, where he holds my ball-shaped form close with zero judgement.
I’m glad he’s not asking questions, he’s not accusing me of being weak or silly, he’s just silently here.
After some time passes and my breathing steadies, I lift my head, the skin on my cheeks sticky with dried up tears full of very not-waterproof mascara. Mixed with the barrel full of other makeup I applied this morning, I imagine I now resemble something close to Alice Cooper, but I couldn’t give any less of a fuck than I do right now.
Again, Tanner doesn’t appear to be judging me, but he does hold my eye contact, offering me his wordless support. In this position, it’s easy to forget that he’s an asshole, because he’s so much more than that. He’s like the Shrek to my Fiona.
Layers upon layers surround him, and the more I peel away, the more addicted I’m becoming. All while he saves me from my lonely tower, and from a man who is short—of his morals. This thought makes me chuckle because my nicknames for him now seem more apt than ever before.Tiny…
Tanner’s face creases in confusion and he tilts his head in bewilderment.
“Something amusing you?”
“Just thinking, is all. But thank you for being my Shrek.” Emboldened by how close we are, I kiss him. More of a light peck and I catch the corner of his lips, but when I pull back, his confusion from before is gone.
Deep brown irises bore into mine, pupils dilated, making them almost appear black, and he brings a palm up to cup the side of my face. Rather than soft and caressing, his hold is firm and possessive.
“You have to stop doing that.” His voice is barely audible, more of a growl.
“Why?” I’m pushing my luck, I know this, but I have never felt more myself than I do when he’s around. Whether it be like this, or when we’re arguing, it gives me hope that my life isn’t completely over.
Closing his eyes, he takes a long, deep breath before pinning his gaze on me again.
“Because next time, I won’t stop.”
It feels like a challenge.
One that, despite my aching body, I want to accept.
“Promise?”
“You don’t want me to do that.”
