Her eyes move from the first page, staring at the wall ahead of us. Something in her shuts off at my question. She’s lost somewhere deep in that head of hers.
“Sunny…” Her eyes flick back to me. “What happened to the book?”
She toys with the tattered corner. “I was reading one night and he…wantedattention.”
I close my eyes, trying to steady my hands that are trembling with an anger so visceral it’s rattling my bones.
“I just told him to let me finish the page, and he got upset.” She murmurs. “He said I loved my books more than him. That itwas dumb, reading the same book over and over. That my literacy must be compromised since I can’t read anything else,” Her voice waivers. “So, he snatched it from my hand and tried to rip it but failed, which only made him angrier.” A pause. “I tried to stop him but he…he pushed me down back in our bed and ran out of the room and grabbed the candle that was lit on our coffee table and tried to set my book on fire. Pieces of it fell on our carpet and almost caught flame. He almost burned our apartment down,” she says with a moment of clarity. She shakes her head. “I should have left that day.”
There’s that look again—shame, guilt. The look ofhad I left sooner, where would I be?
“Anyways,” She takes a deep breath looking at me with a small, weary smile.
My heart cracks open at the sight, bearing itself to her in offering to exchange for hers. It’s broken too, but hopefully it can give her relief from her own. That thread I feel between us rattles in the wake of the heartbreak I feel emitting from her. That string has made one thing abundantly clear—her pain is mine, too.
“It can be easy to start melting together abuse and love. The lines between the two can become blurry.” I place one of my hands on hers. “A starving person will eat anything. That’s what he did to you—he starved you of the things you deserved. So, when he gave you a fraction of what you needed, you devoured it. Clung to it in hopes of the next serving to be just as special and substantial.” I hook a piece of hair behind her ear as those beautiful, round blue-green eyes watch me. I’m almost certain she leans into my touch, just a little bit.
“I understand, Sunny, I do. And even if I didn’t, you don’t owe anyone an explanation to how you felt and why you stayed. What matters now is that you left.” My thumb lazily moves back and forth on the soft skin of her face. “Now, are you going to read to me?”
I listen to that soft voice for an hour.
With my hands behind my head, I watch her. She’s curled into me, gracing me with her soft vanilla and coconut scent. I want it covering my clothes, my hair, on my skin and all over my home.
Even in her sweatpants and oversized shirt, sickly and falling asleep, something inside me aches so desperately to have her closer. It pulls at my fucking heart, persistent and needy and inching me closer and closer to doing just that. I can’t help that every fiber in my being just wants some connection with her. Whether it is by tracing those lines that define her stomach, or holding her hand or playing with the curls on her head.
Seeing her eyes get heavy, I motion for the book. “Let me.”
She hands it to me and inches closer, getting comfortable for sleep. Her skin simply brushes mine, and desire blooms in me again to pull her closer against my chest and read to her until her eyes close and her breathing becomes rhythmic with mine.
I’ve never wanted moments like these until I met her.
It physically fucking hurts at this point that I really can’t. I just needsomecontact. It scares me, because I feel things I have never experienced before. Quickly, too. So,soquickly.
When I look down and see she’s fast asleep with her head against my chest, and still curled into me, every instinct in me says to not leave. I move closer, draping my arm along her back, cradling her to me. I pull her just a little closer so I can be her source of warmth. I read every single page of the book she loves so we can talk about it.
Every single word.
I want to stay like this all night, and I almost do, but tonight, I only get a few hours of this moment.Of us.
Once I finish the book, I set it down and face her as much as I can without waking her. I move the curls that escape her bun out of her face and start tracing all the features I’ve already memorized. From the dark eyebrows, the pert nose, and pinklips. I love it all. I don’t fucking care if she knows or if she feels it. Maybe Iwanther to know.
It’s pathetic, because I already ache and miss her even though she’s right here. She’s right fucking here but she’s already running, already planning her next out. Leaving it all behind before it even gets a chance. Beforeweeven get a chance.
As I memorize her features, the words come out before I can even stop myself, before I even realize I feel what I say.
Then, I feel it all at once.
In one single moment, my life completely changes its trajectory with four simple words.
“I love you, Sunny.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SUNNY
I slowly open my eyes,realizing I’m in a place that feels so familiar, yet I’ve never been here. All remnants of my sickness are gone, and when I look around, I’m surrounded by a collision of inky, starry sky and a dusky sunset bleeding into one another like vulnerable hearts.
It’s all I see. It’s all I feel. Somehow, it all feels safe. If peace were a place, this would be it. This is the place my heart has searched for my whole life. There is no beginning. There is no end. There is onlythis. And somehow, it’s all I’ve ever needed.
