I can smell the guilt coming off him from a mile away.
He takes my hand and starts to run his thumb along the inside of it. “But I couldn’t do it, it was too painful, so I compromised to the spot where we are sitting now.” I look around my beautiful home.
“But I couldn’t let the dream go fully,” I slightly smile at him, trying to offer some more comfort even though it was me bearing my soul.
“So, you built our house?” he asks.
I nod. “So, I built our house. And I named my daughter Ellie, because I couldn’t let go,” I pause again, stopping myself from the word vomit consisting of desperation and purely pathetic intentions. “I wanted some control back into my life when my dreams came tumbling down.” I watch him again, more tears falling silently down his face.
“I’m so sorry,” is all he manages out behind his silent tears. I could only but nod at his apology.
But now was my turn to ask why.
I let myself breathe a deep breath before looking back into his emerald, green eyes andon the exhale I ask. “Why did you do it?”
Silence.
I watch the wheels turning in his head for what feels like a small eternity, my eyes never moving away from his, my body staying as still as it possibly could, waiting for something.
Anything.
His mouth opens and closes so many times, tears completely staining his face as I watch him, completely unable to find the words.
My heart and my head are fighting a losing battle; my heart can’t watch him in pain but to truly move on I need to know why.
However, looking at his broken structure, my hearts going to win today.
“Mav?” I ask in a hushed tone.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he sobs out.
How can you watch the man you love suffer so much that he isn’t even hiding the fact he’s letting the tears fall?
I decide to take the plunge, standing up from my seat, I move his hands from his knees and place them around my waist as I lower myself onto his lap; I wrap my arms tightly around his neck.
I feel his arms tighten around me as he buries his face into my collarbone, his breathing rapid and fast.
“It’s okay-” I soothe. “You don’t have to tell me today.” I feel my fingers wrapped up in his hair, doing my best to comfort him.
Maverick lets in a breath, sniffing back his tears before clearing his throat and moving his face away from my chest.
“I’m sorry, Firefly,” he chokes out.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I promise him, because it is. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” I wipe my thumb over Maverick’s cheek to remove the tear that’s fallen.
“Just answer me this-” I say, feeling him stiffen below me. “Was it my fault?” I ask.
“No baby, it wasn’t.” Is all he could manage out in-between a choked sob.
I feel Mavericks breathing slowly return back to normal. I know what this is. I suffer with them as well.
Ever since he left.
“Mav, how long have you been having panic attacks?” I ask instead, hoping thisquestion would be easier for him to answer.
Thirty
Maverick
