Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blue
Ijolt awake, my heart pounding against my ribs as fragments of the same dream I discussed with Red during our session scatter. Shadows linger in my mind, but sunlight filters through the blinds, casting stripes across the tangled sheets where Red and I slept entwined last night.
Where is he?
A new panic hits. I slide my hand across his side of the bed.
It's still warm. He's probably in the kitchen making coffee.
I sit up, then slide my legs so my feet hit the floor, my fingers trailing over the faint scars on my thigh.
The skin's smooth now, hiding the truth about how I pierced it with pins.
But my hand's a different story. Each raised line on my knuckles reminds me of the chaos I felt that night, the pain I often crave.
Ironically, it also serves as a reminder of the calm Red has woven into my days.
A month has passed without me harming myself. The realization sinks in, heavy with a rush of pride that warms my chest, yet fear coils tight in my gut at what slipping back might cost.
I could lose Red.
The fear is often a driver for me not to succumb to my desires of self-harm. And as much as I hate the thought, I acknowledge it serves a good purpose.
We need to tell my parents about us.
If they learn about our relationship from someone else, everything crumbles.
The thought spirals, twisting sharper. I picture my mother's face crumpling in disappointment, her eyes narrowing as she demands explanations.
My father would loom, his voice low and controlled, deciding how to fix me yet again, and stripping away my choices.
My breath quickens, and I brace against the invisible impact, my shoulders tensing as if their judgment already presses down.
If only they knew...
Red has given me stability through his routines that anchor my mornings and evenings.
He provides structure through our sessions, turning my scattered thoughts into something manageable.
Safety wraps around me in his arms, where the world quiets and I breathe easier.
Without him, I would still chase pain to drown the noise.
They don't know the extent of my self-harm.
I'm not telling them.
Jitters bounce around my stomach.
Would they view this as love or as him exploiting my vulnerability?
The doubt creeps in, cold and insistent, making my stomach churn.
No. Stop giving them so much power.
Protection surges through me, fierce and unyielding, erasing the whisper before it takes root. I shove the negativity away, clenching my jaw. Red's mine, and I chose him.
The faint aroma of fresh coffee flares, calming me.
He is here.
He didn't leave.
I head into the bathroom, turning the shower to cold. Water cascades over me, shocking my skin into alertness. I inhale deeply, hold for four counts, then exhale slowly, just as Red taught me. The ritual steadies my pulse, grounding me in the present moment.
Steam clouds the mirror when I step out, but I wipe it clear and stare at my reflection.
Water drips from my hair, tracing paths down my neck.
My eyes search for changes, the sharper set of my jaw, the steadier gaze that holds without flinching.
I decide strength shows in the way my hands no longer tremble as much, and in the scars that fade instead of multiply.
"I'm with Red," I whisper to the glass, the words hanging in the air. My voice wavers, so I try again, louder. "I'm with Red."
Heaviness builds with each repetition, pressing on my chest until my breath comes shorter. Anxiety surges, and my pulse thunders in my ears.
I need backup.
Aunt Kora's face pops into my mind, with her sharp eyes and understanding nods. She's the one adult who listens without immediately trying to reshape me.
She already knows we're together.
The morning after Mikhail stormed into Cloud's apartment, she called to check on me. I told her I was fabulous, and she didn't try to talk me out of seeing Red again, so she must be okay with us being together.
She'll know how to help me talk to my parents.
The assumption knots my stomach tighter. Mikhail's involvement lingers in my thoughts, his warnings about discretion and consequences. Still, he hasn't whispered to others besides Aunt Kora, who already knew about our situation. If he had, I'd know.
Red would know.
I swallow hard.
Why hasn't Mikhail leaked details to my uncle or to my father directly? The question whirls, accelerating my heartbeat.
I need to ask Demi to find out why he hasn't said anything.
I grab my phone off the nightstand. My fingers tremble as I type a quick text to Kora.
Me: Can we meet for coffee this morning? Need to talk.
I hit send before second thoughts paralyze me. Then I pace the bedroom, the carpet soft under my bare feet, but my heartbeat echoes loud in the quiet space. Each step amplifies the wait, my mind racing about what to do if Aunt Kora refuses to help.
The phone buzzes, and I snatch it up.
Kora's reply flashes.
Aunt Kora: Sure. Usual spot in 30?
Neutral words, but the quick response carries an urgency that unsettles me, making my throat tighten.
This will work out. I should have thought about talking to her sooner.
I convince myself with a nod, the knot in my chest loosening just enough to breathe deeper.
I dress quickly, pulling on jeans and a sweater, then grab my purse and keys. Confidence surges, forced but real enough to propel me out the door. This meeting marks the beginning, the step that solidifies Red and me beyond hidden nights and careful boundaries.
He appears when I step into the main living room. He's leaning against the counter, his coffee mug in his hand, and his eyes light up when he sees me. "Morning, Bluebird. Sleep well?"
"Better with you here." I cross to him, rising on my toes to kiss him softly. Tension hums between us, his hand lingers on my waist, and he pulls me closer for a moment that stretches with unspoken want.
He sets the mug down and cups my face. "Where are you off to this early?"
"I'm meeting Aunt Kora for coffee." The words tumble out, but my voice stays steady despite the flutter in my chest.
His thumb strokes my cheek, concern etching his brow. "Why do you look nervous? What am I missing?"
"Nothing. I'm good. Happy," I add, which isn't a total lie. Now that Red dismissed his no sex rule, and he proved he still loves me, I am happy.
He studies me a moment, then smiles. "I'm happy too. Want to come to back to my place for dinner tonight?"
"Sure." I step on my tiptoes and kiss him again, deeper this time, my hands sliding up his chest. The rapid beat of his heart mirrors mine. Desire builds, his grip tightens on my hips, but I pull back, my breath ragged. "I have to go."
He releases me reluctantly, his eyes dark with the same hunger twisting through me. "Love you, Bluebird. See you tonight."
"Love you too." I step away, the separation aching already, but determination pushes me forward. I exit my apartment, the elevator dings, and I descend, replaying our kiss with the promise in his touch fueling my resolve.
Outside, the cool air hits my face, sharpening my focus. Cars rush by, horns blaring in the morning chaos, but I weave through pedestrians with purpose. The coffee shop looms ahead, its familiar sign a beacon amid the uncertainty.
Aunt Kora sits at our usual table by the window, her posture straight, coffee steaming in front of her. She spots me and waves, smiling.
I bend down and hug her, then slide into the seat across from her.
The barista approaches and hands me my favorite latte.
I meet Aunt Kora's gaze. "Thanks for meeting me so quickly."
"Of course." She sips her drink, cautiously asking, "What's going on, Blue? You look like you've got something heavy to unload."
My hands wrap around the warm mug, and steam rises between us. "It's about Red—Dr. Mercer."
Her eyebrow arches slightly.
Words rush out of my mouth. "We're together. For real. And I need to tell my parents, but I wanted your advice first."
Her eyes turn to slits. She sets her cup down carefully, leaning forward. "Red was told to stay away from you and you from him."
"We're in love." Heat rises in my cheeks, but I hold her gaze.
"When did you get back together?"
"Why are you asking me that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Mikhail didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?" she questions, pursing her lips.
My chest tightens. "I-I assumed he told you about when he showed up at Cloud's place."
"Cloud?"
"My friend who lives in Red's building," I offer.
"I see. And this was when?"
"A while ago. So, Mikhail didn't tell you?" I take a sip of my latte.
She shakes her head. Disapproval and a hint of anger fill her tone. "No, he did not."
Tense silence fills the air.
She clears her throat and asserts, "You're playing with fire, Blue."
"I need your advice, not another warning. I just told you I love him," I snap.
She sighs. "Blue, he took advantage of you."
"He didn't!"
"I know this is hard for you to understand—"
"He helps me, Aunt Kora. More than therapy ever could alone."
Sympathy appears on her expression.
"Don't look at me like I'm a sick dog about to get put under!"
"Blue—"
"Do you have any idea what I've done to myself?" I hurl, my heart racing.
Her face falls. She slowly shakes her head. "No. I don't."
"Exactly."
"Why don't you tell me about it?" she suggests, putting her hand on my arm.
My pulse pounds between my ears. I hesitate, then state, "I've used knives, pins, and glass to make myself bleed. Is it okay with you if I don't go into any more details?"
She swallows and squeezes my arm. "Oh, Blue."
"I don't need your pity. What I need is for you to understand that Red makes me happy. He's the only one who gets through to me not to do it again. And I work every day to not do it so I don't disappoint him or myself." I blink, looking out the glass.
She waits a moment, then softens her voice. "I'm glad you're finding ways not to harm yourself."