Chapter 25 #3
Tomorrow, there will be time for toothbrushes and tangles and excited chatter about the game. And, if I’m lucky, Lyla not realizing how close she came to her entire life changing in an instant.
I place her gently in bed. In her sleepy state, it’s easy to get her into an oversized sweatshirt that she loves to sleep in. And then, I just watch her. She’s been my whole world for so long, and I can’t believe how close I came tonight to losing her.
Now that we’re home safely, the magnitude of tonight keeps crashing through me in waves of varying degrees of intensity.
I thought about it on the train, but again, I feel like–for the first time–I get Asher on a level that I didn’t before.
I thought I did, but staring at her from the edge of the bed, it’s like I can feel an echo of a heartbreak that didn’t even happen.
It’s so strong, even as only an idea, that I press my hand against my chest and rub at my heart.
How does Asher live like this every day?
When I’m sure that Lyla’s down for the count, I pull the door almost closed and head into my own bedroom.
My heart clenches at the sight of him. He’s taken off his coat and placed it at the end of the bed, and he’s standing in the darkened room, looking out the window thoughtfully.
“She didn’t even wake up when I put her pajamas on,” I say, walking over to my dresser so that I can take off my smart watch. I don’t even want to know what it says about my heart rate for the last hour.
He moves away from the window and comes up to stand behind me. I don’t fight him when his arms wrap around my torso and he pulls me back into his solidness. I sigh when he nuzzles his beard against my cheek, trying to let the softness and comfort steady me.
I’m coming down, now that Lyla’s finally safely in bed.
But what about tomorrow? What about all of the other things that I can’t protect her from. What about–
“Just breathe,” he whispers in my ear, dampening my racing thoughts. He slides one of his hands up so that it presses against my chest, over my heart. “I’ve got you.”
“Asher,” I say, the embarrassment that I didn’t have the energy for earlier blooming through me. When I think back over the last few months, I don’t know how we got here. To a place where we’re standing in my bedroom while he keeps me tethered to reality instead of falling into the abyss.
He doesn’t seem to have the same questions–or concerns–as his palm rubs light circles over my hoodie. “How many times have you been this person for me? The one who centers me when I’m crashing out?”
“Having a panic attack because of a traumatic past experience is a completely normal response,” I defend, even as I lean harder into him.
My body protests when he tries to shift away, and I only give in when I realize that he wants me to turn around. Facing him, he cups my neck, rubbing light circles with his thumb along my pulse point. “Let me take care of you.”
It’s… everything. The tone of his voice. The softness of his big hands. The way he makes me feel so safe, in spite of the fact that he’s the most dangerous thing in my life.
The little bit of resolve that I’ve been holding together cracks and then splinters and then disintegrates. Just for tonight, I can let him in. Truthfully, he’s already burrowed inside of my heart, and this is just me deciding not to fight it like I usually am.
From my stomach, he inches up my sweater. I lift up my arms so that he can pull it off, along with my t-shirt.
“Just for tonight,” I say, exhaustion washing over me.
He leans forward and kisses me then. It’s soft and sweet and a kiss for the sake of itself, not because he wants it to become something more.
“I know what it feels like to live with regret, but you don’t need to have that tonight. Everything is okay,” he says quietly.
The words hit somewhere in my heart, and they wrap around me like a blanket. Exhaustion quickly follows, like I’ve been sapped of every ounce of energy that I’ve ever produced.
“I’m so fucking tired,” I say to myself as much as him.
Instead of answering me, he unbuttons my jeans and gently slides them down my thighs. The movement and how his body dips lower is enough for my arousal to flicker to life–he always has that effect on me–but then he stands up and takes my hand instead. “Lay down, baby. I’ve got you.”
He guides me over to the bed and pulls down the covers so that I can slide in. Quickly, he disrobes until he’s in his underwear and climbs in from the other side. We’ve never been in a bed before, I dimly register, and it’s definitely not how I thought the first time would be.
But I like it anyway. He puts his arm around me and pulls me closer, so that my head can rest on his chest.
I don’t realize that I’ve drifted off until I wake up to his fingertips running soft lines along my skull. Our legs are intertwined, and my body is splayed out across his, so that I’m half-covering him.
“I fell asleep.” I try to sit up, but he only pulls me in closer.
“I’ll be out before Lyla wakes up, I promise. Just go back to bed.”
I want to argue. I want to wake up fully and…
Honestly, I don’t exactly know what I want.
To touch him. To show him just how much he means to me.
To tell him all about Lyla’s mother and how everything changed so quickly that I never recovered.
To explain how Lyla’s the best thing that I’ve ever done in this world, and every single day, I’m so afraid of fucking it up.
I want him to know about the dark times–after my injury and when I thought that life was over.
There’s so much that I want. So much that I try to stop myself from wanting because I’m not as strong as I want to let myself think. I have to be, though, or my life doesn’t work.
But most of all, I register as I drift back to sleep, I don’t want him to leave.