Submit.
There. Done.
My stomach turned when the confirmation screen popped up. I'd finally taken the first step. But instead of relief, I felt sick.
I shut the laptop and tossed it aside. Every part of me ached with exhaustion. My ribs still hurt, and the stitches in my face still made it difficult to wear my glasses. Hell, just getting up in the morning felt like scaling Everest. I just couldn't shake the weight pressing down on me. I couldn't shake the crippling fear of what would happen when Marcus came back into the picture.
I couldn't shake Eli, either.
He wasn't even coming around very often. Only first thing in the morning to make sure I got breakfast and in the evenings with crap takeaway so I didn't have to cook dinner. He never stormed in or demanded anything. He just showed up and somehow made the flat feel less suffocating.
I never expected him to come back after the way I told him off. But he did. And to my surprise, he wasn't trying to fix anything. He was just there to help in whatever ways he could. It made it harder to keep my guard up.
He did things without making a show of it. He noticedwhen I winced and helped me move around until the pain passed. When the anxiety kicked in, he knew how to calm me down. He gave me space but wouldn't let me vanish into it. Somewhere in all that quiet, I started leaning toward him more than I used to.
It wasn't just the comfort he offered. It was the way he looked at me. Steady, unflinching,withoutpity. He saw what was broken in me and didn't try to pretend it wasn't there. And he stayed, anyway.
And then there wasthatmoment the other day.
His hands were warm against my face, his voice low and steady. And then he rested his forehead against mine and said that none of this was my fault. I could feel his breath, see the way his lashes moved. It was the kind of closeness I'd always wanted from him. The kind that pulled everything else out of focus.
I should've stepped away, but I couldn't. All I could do was stare at him, and for a frightening second, I almost just ... went for it.
I dropped my head into my hands and groaned.
I almost kissed him. In the middle of all this shit, when I could barely hold myself together, I almost reached for something I had no business wanting. If I'd gone through with it, I would've wrecked whatever peace we'd managed to build. I would've made it weird, and he'd have backed off.
Did he know what he was doing to me, though? Did he have any idea how easy it would've been for me to cross every line I'd drawn just to feel something good again?
Thankfully, I'd caught myself. I'd already pushed him away once. I couldn't mess this up again. I couldn't lose him when I'd just gotten him back.
And even if all of this was real and I was reading it right, how long could it possibly last? How long until his patience ran out? How long until he realised I was too much andhe didn't really want to deal with it?
I didn't trust it. This wasn't a relationship. This was damage control. And sooner or later, Eli would figure it out, too.
It wasn't like he had a history of holding onto relationships, anyway. He always moved from one person to the next, never staying long enough for things to really get serious. I'd seen him drift in and out of flings, and this would be no different. Once the dust settled and I wasn't broken anymore, he'd go back to his life in London. And I'd go back to being an afterthought.
Despite all that, though... I missed him when he wasn't around. More than I cared to admit. I wanted to call him, tell him I was struggling, that the steps I was trying to take toward freedom felt like they were pulling me in the other direction.
But I couldn't burden him with that. He'd done too much already, and I didn't want to make him feel obligated to take on any more of my mess.
My phone went off without warning, and I flinched so hard that it sent a sharp jolt through my chest. I cursed under my breath when pain shot up my side. My hands scrambled for the device like I could shut it up fast enough to stop my heart from clawing its way up my throat.
No one had called me in days, though. Even Eli was texting instead of phoning. Who the hell would –
My mind went straight to the worst. My stomach dropped, convinced it was Marcus. How did he find out so damn fast?
But then I saw the screen.
An alarm. Just an alarm.
The tightness in my ribs stayed, but it eased enough for me to at least breathe again.
Right... I'd set it last night to remind myself about the follow-up with my GP. I needed to get the stitches taken out.
I glared at the phone. What thefuckpossessed me to set theloudestringtone in my library as the alarm? Was I hoping to blast myself out of bed with a full-blown panic attack? Jesus.
I forced another breath to try to calm the adrenaline. It was fine. I was fine. Just a ...reallybad choice in phone settings.
