“Hi,” I’d said, nervous to start the conversation.
“Hey,” he’d answered, more of a question than a greeting.
“I got this for you,” I’d said, handing him the book, chickening out of the speech I’d planned on the walk back about learning and healing, and accepting help from others.
He’d taken the book with his good hand, setting it in his lap, and I’d realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to turn the pages with his bad hand still bandaged the way it was.
“I didn’t think about your hand,” I’d whispered, staring at the dirt between my feet.
“I’m not your problem to worry about,” he’d answered.
Something about his easy dismissal of himself had fury bubbling over in me for the first time in weeks. “Where are you, Trips?” I’d demanded.
“What the hell do you mean? I’m right here.”
I’d pushed up from the chair, not wanting to pussyfoot around him anymore. “Great. Me too. So let’s act like it.”
He’d glared at me, silent.
“Trips, you fucked up. It happened. There’s no going backwards. But we’re still here. You and me, we’re alive. And we’re here. Together. So we’ve got to figure out a way to make this work.”
“So you gave me a book.”
I’d huffed out some angry grumble, annoyed that he was being so willingly obtuse. “I got you a book about dealing with anger.”
“I’m not angry right now.”
“Not outwardly. But I’d bet every cent I have that all that anger is currently pointed right back at yourself. Which isn’t any better.”
“Who are you to judge what the fuck is going on in my head?”
I’d sighed. “I’m not judging, Trips. Not at all. I found help. And I’m trying to find you help too. That’s all. Take it or leave it.”
Stomping up the stairs to the RV felt like defeat, even as RJ had pulled me into the bedroom, holding me close as I cried angry tears against his chest.
But three days later, I found the book open, pages down on the kitchen table.
It had been a start.
And all these months later, that dusty, dog-eared book had led us here.
“Seven weeks until the wedding,” I whisper.
“Yup. Then you’ve got me to boss around permanently.”
I smile against his chest. “What’s new about that?”
He chuckles, and a bit of the weight over us seems to lift, even as he tugs me closer against his chest, the building pressure of his erection against my stomach impossible to ignore. “You think that’s a permanent state? Because I doubt it.”
“You know I’ll fight for the right to boss you around.”
“And you know I’ll always win.” The smile stays in his voice, and it’s at that point that I realize how often it’s been missing lately.
“Only when I want you to win.”
Suddenly, his hand braces my cheek, tilting my face to his, his lips hard against my own, his tongue forcing its way between my lips before I’m ready for him.
And it’s exactly what I’ve needed.
