Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sterling
“Are we watching a movie tonight?” Graham asked as he maneuvered his car into a parking spot in front of our dorm building.
He’d apparently worked the entire summer before freshman year of college to save up enough money to buy a cheap car outright.
And when my parents found out around Christmas of our freshman year that his insurance was about to lapse because he couldn’t afford to pay it for another six months, they took over, adding him as a driver to their insurance policy, as well as his car.
Graham was still extremely grateful for their help to this day. He just asked that word never got to his parents because he didn’t want them to feel bad about not being able to provide something for him. My parents and I readily agreed.
I wanted to do anything I could to help make Graham’s life a little easier.
He was working so hard to achieve his dreams. He’d already had a couple of offers from some NHL teams. His parents wanted him to take one of the offers, but my parents urged him to finish his college degree first, warning him an injury could take him out and that he needed something to fall back on.
They’d assured him that if he kept at it, kept getting better, and kept improving, he would get offers from better teams with a higher dollar amount on his contract.
“A movie sounds good, but we both need showers first. Especially you.”
He rolled his eyes at me as he shifted his car into park. “Someone needed to eat,” he said, giving me a pointed look.
I shrugged. “We could’ve ordered in.”
He snorted. “You needed a wider range of options,” he reminded me. “We both know you struggle to eat for a couple of days after you go through something like this.”
How did he know me so well? Sometimes, I thought he knew me better than I knew myself, and that was saying something. Every once in a while, he could even tell I was triggered before I was, and he worked fast to get me out of the situation without freaking me out.
I really did feel the safest with him out of everyone, even my parents, who had done everything they could to give me the safety net I needed. Who put me through therapy and gave me a comfortable life where I could work on healing and growing without being afraid every time I turned around.
“Yeah,” I muttered, pushing open the car door.
Graham met me at the front of his car once I got out, and when he held his hand out to me, somehow still knowing I needed to initiate touch first, I placed my hand in his, linking our fingers together before giving his hand a squeeze.
It was a silent thank you. A silent appreciation for his understanding and constant patience.
“Come on. Let’s go get showers so we can cuddle and watch movies.”
“Cuddles,” I mused, a smile tilting my lips before I could stop it.
“I think I like the sound of that.” Graham chuckled.
I raised our hands a little as we walked inside the lobby of our dorm building, heading to the elevators.
“So, what does this make us, Graham? I don’t think I ever even held hands with Darren. ”
Graham’s face screwed up in distaste. “Please keep that dick’s name out of your mouth around me,” he begged.
“I still want to break his fucking nose.” I snickered.
Graham was so overprotective. I should’ve known he wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands to himself at practice today, especially since I knew Darren was such a shit-talker.
His mouth got him in a lot of trouble during games.
But Graham could be just as hot-headed, especially when it came to me.
“Fine,” I agreed. “Now answer my question.”
“Boyfriends?” he asked, glancing over at me as we stepped into the elevator.
I pressed the button for our floor and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
I hated elevators. I hated being in areas with no escape.
My skin always crawled, and without a doubt, I knew I was breaking out in hives.
“I’d like to be your boyfriend, Sterling. If that’s what you want, that is.”
I cracked open one eye, and nausea swirled in my gut. Quickly, I shut it again, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah,” I rasped. “I’d like that, too.”
Graham pulled me into his arms, his hand cradling the back of my head. “Breathe, Sterling. We’re almost there,” he assured me. “Probably shouldn’t have taken the elevator.”
I grunted. “Too full to walk up five flights of stairs,” I told him, burrowing my face in the crook of his neck. The scent of his cologne mixed with his sweat calmed me and cleared my head of the panic, and I breathed a little easer. “Thanks,” I murmured.
“No reason to thank me,” he said softly. “I’m always you’re safety.”
The elevator dinged, and we separated, though Graham grabbed my hand again. Quickly, we exited, and I breathed a sigh of relief before inhaling the cooler air of the hallway. Once our door was unlocked, I walked in ahead of him and flopped back on my bed for a moment.
“Christ, I hate elevators,” I groaned.
Graham loomed over me, his hands in his pockets.
“Just make sure you don’t ride in one without me, yeah?
” I nodded in agreement. It was one of our ‘rules’, per se.
Besides, I wasn’t interested in getting in an elevator without Graham there to make me feel safe.
If I’d been by myself, I would’ve waited in the lobby on one of the chairs until my food settled more so I could climb the stairs. “I’m hopping in the shower.”
He toed out of his sneakers and managed to even pull off his socks with his feet before sliding on his shower shoes.
I watched as he went to his closet and pulled out a pair of sweats and boxers.
He snatched a towel out of one of his drawers and then grabbed the handle of his toiletry carrier.
“You good?” he asked, his hand on the door handle of our room.
I smiled at him—a real one—and his lips twitched in return, though concern was still etched into his eyes. “I’m okay,” I promised.
He nodded once and slipped out of our room, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Heaving a tired breath—anxiety attacks always made me exhausted, no matter how big or small they happened to be—I got off my bed and took off my sneakers and socks before putting on my shower shoes.
After grabbing clothes, a towel, and my toiletry basket, I headed into the bathroom as well.
The quicker I got a shower, the quicker I could get cuddles from my boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
A stupid, goofy smile pulled at my lips as I shut the curtain separating my stall from the rest of the bathroom.
I couldn’t believe Graham was finally my boyfriend.
Graham combed his fingers through my hair.
My head was resting against his abs, and he was slouched against the wall, a bunch of pillows piled up behind him.
My eyelids were drooping, but I was trying to keep them open to savor this as long as possible.
Hell, I was practically on the verge of purring.
“Stop fighting it,” Graham whispered. “You haven’t been sleeping well. You need to get some rest.”
I sighed. “Don’t want to sleep yet,” I mumbled, but my eyes fell shut. God, it was so hard to stay awake after an anxiety attack. And Graham was so warm and comfortable and smelled so good…
“You’re safe, and I’m here,” Graham promised. “Just get some sleep, Sterling.”
The last thing I was aware of was him chuckling at something in the movie and his fingers still combing through my hair, his nails lightly scratching my scalp.
The light was blinding. My eyeballs were screaming in pain, but for some reason, I couldn’t shut them. My retinas were burning, desperately in need of moisture and darkness.
“Pretty boy,” he whispered, his voice bouncing off the walls and seeming to echo in my mind. “Such a pretty boy, aren’t you, Sterling? Are you going to be good for Daddy? He’s missed you.”
“No,” I mumbled. Fear sliced through my veins. I tried to will my legs to move or my head to turn so I could find him, but I couldn’t do anything. “I’m an adult. You don’t want me anymore.”
“Oh, but I do, pretty boy. We have so many years to make up for, Sterling. I’ve missed you so much.”
Vomit rose in my throat, and I gagged, trying to swallow it back down. My heart was racing. Sweat beaded along my skin, making my clothes stick to me. I wanted to run, but my body wouldn’t move. Why wouldn’t my body move?
“Sterling…” he murmured, suddenly right in my ear.
“Go away,” I pleaded. I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe? What the fuck was sitting on my chest?
“Sterling…” he said in my ear again, this time louder. I whimpered, a sob rising in my throat. This couldn’t be happening again.
“Sterling!” he suddenly shouted.
I jerked awake, my eyes snapping open. The room was dark, just how I preferred it. Graham wasn’t touching me, but he was close. I could feel his proximity to me. His heat emanated onto me, burning me in the best way possible.
A shiver raced down my spine as I sucked in desperate lungfuls of air.
Finally, I turned my head, looking at Graham.
He was laying beside me, his eyes intent on my features.
I closed my eyes again, shivers suddenly wracking my body.
My teeth began to chatter. I was hot, but I felt so cold on the inside.
It’d felt so fucking real.
“Breathe,” Graham whispered. “Just focus on breathing, Sterling. You’re safe. Everything is okay. He can’t touch you anymore.”
Logically, I knew that. He was still in prison for what he’d done to me and numerous other kids who’d eventually succumbed to their injuries and been buried in his backyard. He’d even had a whole small graveyard for them all, which had helped put him behind bars for even longer.
But trying to tell that to the fear pulsing through me, choking me, was near impossible.
I scooted closer to Graham, and when I pressed my body fully to his, he immediately wrapped me up in his arms, holding me tightly.
His fingers began that soothing, rhythmic combing through my hair.
We lay like that for what had to be at least an hour.
It took a while for my teeth to stop chattering and even longer for my body to stop shaking.
Eventually, the fear dissipated, and I relaxed in Graham’s arms.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “He can never touch you again, Sterling. Never. Because I’ll never let him come near you again.”
I nodded. “I know,” I rasped. I pressed a kiss to his throat, and he shivered, drawing in a deep, shaky breath at the small, intimate touch. “Thank you for being here.”
He tightened his hold on me, his actions saying everything he didn’t in words.
Always.