“Are you going to stay in the guest bedroom?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I shuffle toward my bed, fatigue weighing down my limbs.
“No, I’m going to sleep with you here.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument.
“O-oh.” I slide beneath the soft covers, the cool fabric contrasting with the heat radiating from my skin. Things may have just gotten heated, but I’m still processing.
Liam stands by the edge of the bed, his gaze locked on mine, and he pulls his shirt over his head. I stop breathing at the raw masculinity that he is revealing a sculpted chest with intricate tattoos that twist and curl like vines across his skin down to his arms. His broad shoulders, defined abs, and I might die right now.
CPR requested immediately.
“Um, I can find some of my brother's old pants that will fit.” I suggest, trying to distract myself from the way my pulse quickens.
But he simply shakes his head, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he lowers his pants to his boxers, his movements fluid and confident.
Without a word, he slips under the covers beside me, the warmth of his body enveloping me as he pulls me into his chest, his skin against mine burns my flesh, and I can’t decide if I want to run or stay here forever. I don’t understand what this man is doing to me…
“Sleep,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that wraps around me like a cocoon. I nestle against him. It seems ridiculously impossible to sleep next to him when my senses are all over the place, but I find a string of calmness, of tranquility as I feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself relax, surrendering to the comfort of his presence. I don’t remember, but I’m pretty certain that he didn’t let go of me for the rest of the night.
The pounding and kicking on the door are relentless. It’s locked and no one can come inside. I press my hands over my ears, clamp my eyes shut, forcing myself to believe I’m safe. But she won’t stop despite me imploring her to. She rarely does. Some days she forgets who I am and unleashes her pain on me. I pray for someone to stop her, but I’m alone.I’m always alone.
She flickers the bathroom light like a madwoman, trying to drag me out of the tub, but I can’t move. Her screams paralyze me even if the warm water soothes.
“I’m safe,” I whisper, and slowly my muscles unclench despite her assault, leaving me in a pitch-black bathroom.
That locked door, separating me from her drunken delirium, is a flimsy shield but my only refuge. Some days are worse than others, and she never remembers, as much as grief is collapsing her, she finds shelter in numbing herself with alcohol. I have no outlet, no place to call home in these instances of darkness and undiluted pain, but I know she lost her child. I know she can’t breathe at night and I know she wishes it never happened. But I feel replaceable.
I sink deeper, exhaling bubbles in the enveloping warm water as her screams grow distant, echoing just so slightly. “I’m safe,” I murmur again. The light flickers repeatedly, and I shut my eyes, breathing, trying to go to a different place — the flash burns into headlights, glass, and a tree trunk splitting his car.
My brother’s car.
It’s wrecked, everything is wrecked, and he’s gone.
The images stitch back to screams of my mother collapsing in the kitchen against the fridge, phone in hand, with the news no mother should ever have to face.
“We’re sorry, your son has passed away.”
Watching her, I know, our lives will never, ever be the same.
I jolt upright, water spilling over the porcelain, lungs clawing for air, and I pull at my hair, burying my head in my lap.Stop, please stop.
“It should’ve been YOU in the car that night!” Mom screams.
Her words incinerate me, my chest caves in, the pain of knowing she would’ve picked him. I would’ve picked myself too to die in that car that night. And I see the blade glinting back at me. With no other way to let go of the pain calling to be released, that’s when I trace the first soothing escape onto my skin.
Another scream echoes, breaking me apart, and I gasp loudly, snapping me…
Out of my sleep — catching my breath I realize I was just sleeping, and these memories have turned into nightmares.
I scan the room around me, the other side of the bed is empty. The hollow where Liam slept looks cold already, and the dull ache that slides between my ribs is another feeling I don’t want to name.
The door swings open. Liam stands there, panic written across his face, “What happened?”
Before I can answer, he’s at my side, his hand pressed to the back of my neck, scanning the room for danger. He pulls me close, forehead to forehead, jaw clenched.
“I’m okay, Liam. I—I had a nightmare.” His thumb brushes away a tear I didn’t realize was there.
“Why are you having nightmares?” He looks at me, analyzing me. I act as if it doesn’t matter, forcing a laugh.
“Why is the sky blue?”
