“Not tonight. I promise, I’m fine.”
“We also need to call the police.”
“Ollie, please. Not now. I’m so tired.” His voice is firm, his plea clear.
I don’t like it, but I choose to respect his request for the time being. But I also won’t sleep so that I can monitor him until I’m certain he’s okay.
Kissing the back of his neck, I say, “You can’t go back to him.”
He’s quiet for a moment, the silence loud in my small flat.
“If I don’t go back, my dad is done for.” Darius rolls over, gritting his teeth as he comes face to face with me. “For a moment, I thought Floyd was going to kill me.” He drops hisvoice to a whisper. “I don’t want to die.” Tears glimmer in his eyes and I feel them build in mine, my throat growing tight.
“I don’t want you to die, either. I can’t survive without you, baby. You’re my everything. My reason. I won’t lose you.”
“I don’t know what to do.” More tears fall down his cheeks and when my vision blurs, I realise I’m crying now, too.
We’re both naked beneath the sheets, and I take his uninjured hand, slipping his pointer finger between two of mine. I move it to the tattoo over my heart.
“Here’s what you do.” His fingertip traces the words. “You chooseyou, Darius. Not your dad, or his company, or even me. You choose you.”
He smiles, his eyes drooping. “Maybe.”
I don’t press him on it, knowing he needs rest in order to recover. I won’t let him go back. Even if he hates me for it, I will make sure this ends. Because if he won’t choose himself, I will always choose him.
“How can I fix this, baby?” I ask.
His eyes shoot open. “Don’t do anything, Ollie. Promise me. Just hold me now. I’ll work it all out somehow. But please, let me handle this. Promise me.”
I hum under my breath, not promising him because I don’t know that I could keep it. His eyes close, a gentle breath passing his lips. “Please,” he mumbles, exhaustion pulling at him.
Pressing a kiss to his lips, I manoeuvre us so that I’m on my back and Darius’s head is on my chest. Dancing a hand up and down his spine, I hold him close as his breathing deepens and soft warm breaths graze my torso. I don’t sleep; I stare at the shadows dancing on my ceiling, my mind whirring. Darius whimpers in his sleep, his face scrunching up when I slowly move him off of me and tuck the blanket over him.
I slide out of bed, throw on jeans and a t-shirt, then head to the bathroom and pick up our wet and dirty clothing. I take Darius’sphone out of the pocket of his jeans, and carry it through to the lounge. Pacing the small space, staring at the device in my hand, I come up with a plan. I’m not sure he’ll like it, so I only hope he forgives me.
Despite trying to stay awake all night to watch over Darius, I must have fallen asleep at some point because I’m startled awake, back against the headboard, the room cast in a soft yellow glow where I left the side table lamp on. My attention falls to the man next to me, whimpering in pain as he rolls onto his side.
“D, baby?”
He’s buried his face between our two pillows, a tremble running through his body when I rest a palm on his back.
Darius lifts his face to look at me, and I wipe the tears off his cheeks with my thumb. There’s a purple shadow above his top lip, where a streak of dried blood sticks to his skin.
“You’re okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” Lying on my back, I motion for him to come closer, and he does, sucking in a sharp breath when he moves too suddenly. When he’s finally situated with his head on my chest, my hand on his back and his injured wrist laying across my stomach, I pull the blanket over us, then press a kiss to his forehead.
“Sleep, love.” Darius looks up at me, his usually sparkling blue eyes dull and afraid. “We’ll sort it all out tomorrow. I promise.”
He doesn’t speak, exhaustion pulling him back into a restless sleep. I don’t move for the rest of the night, watching as the flat brightens, sunrise filtering through the cheap cotton curtains.Then, I climb out of bed and silently potter around, getting myself ready for the day ahead.
Shortly before eight, there’s a barely audible knock on the front door. I open it to mind a worried-looking Darcey on the doorstep.
“Hey,” she says, keeping her voice low as she steps inside. “Where is he?”
“Still asleep,” I whisper, pointing behind me.
She peels off her coat as she looks towards my bed that’s hidden behind the large wooden bookcase. I messaged her early this morning asking if she could come over. I didn’t go into great detail, other than to say that Darius had been hurt.
“How’s he doing?”
