ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟙 #2
The porch light glows warmly against the darkness. Cameron grabs the grocery bags from the back seat as I grab my work bag. Together we head inside.
The second the front door closes behind us, I kick off my shoes. My everything hurt. Meanwhile Cameron was handling bags like they weren't heavy at all.
He places the bags down, organizing them. "Go sit down."
I glance toward him, groaning: "Huh?"
"I'll make dinner for you."
"It's midnight, that's crazy."
"You know I;m crazy about you." He winks at me, placing the oatmeal inside the cabinet.
I physically cringe at his line before making my way to the kitchen island, plopping my butt on a stool. My head was spinning, so I placed it gently on the table.
Soon the sounds of cooking fill the house. Cabinet doors, running water, pans, the occasional curse when Cameron nearly drops something all fill my ears.
Eventually Cameron places a plate in front of me. I know it because I hear the plate clink, and he taps my head twice. I slowly bring my head up, staring straight at him.
It was chicken with rice and vegetables. An impressive meal considering he threw it together in ten minutes.
He points to the fork. "Food. Eat up, Mrs. West."
I pick up the fork, and take a few bites here and there, but after that, my appetite completely disappears. Instead I find myself reaching for the fruit bowl sitting nearby. Safe foods.
I hadn't told Cameron about this diet- mostly because he'd probably hawk over me 24/7. But I'm sure he's noticing it anyway.
He sits across from me, watching quietly.
I grab at least three strawberries and grapes, shoving them in my mouth.
"Dix."
I sigh. "What?"
"You barely touched your food."
"I'm eating."
"Yeah, fruit."
"It's still food. What, you want me to get fat?" I say sarcastically, swallowing the last bit of berries.
His expression softens, and it makes my chest ache, because I know he's trying. I just can't bring myself to it.
"Dixie, you're not fat." He says firmly, but gently. "Is that what this is about?"
I stare down at my lap. "I just lost my appetite."
His chair scrapes softly against the floor.
Before I can already process what he's doing, Cameron is standing. He comes around the island, to my side.
Then he pulls me into a hug.
Biceps wrap around me like a barrier between my thoughts and the spinning in my head.
I don't really hug back. My arms just hover for a second before dropping uselessly to my sides. I stay stiff, a little irritated at being handled like I'm fragile glass, even if part of me is too tired to fight it.
"Cameron," I mutter against him, voice muffled against his shirt.
He shifts slightly so I end up leaning into him anyway, whether I planned to or not. My resistance fades into something softer.
My head finds his chest. I don't even mean to do it. It just happens.
His heartbeat is steady- steady enough for me to close my eyes for a moment.
"I'm not trying to control you," he says gently, almost putting me asleep. "I'm just really, really worried about you."
I don't answer as my eyelids droop. I take a deep breath before my eyelashes start to flutter, and I see black.
Maybe not just a moment.
I feel her weight change before I see her face.
It's subtle at first, that soft slackening in her shoulders. From exhaustion finally winning whatever quiet argument she's been having inside her head all night.
Something I wish sometimes she would just tell me.
Her head is still resting on my chest, her breathing has slowed.
Even her irritation seems to loosen slightly.
"Dixie?" I murmur softly.
My arms tighten instinctively as I look down at her.
She's asleep.
Right here. Standing half between stubborn and spent. I can tell she's drifted off in the middle of both.
Something in my chest dips. I can't tell exactly what it is. I should've gotten her to bed sooner.
I look down at her face, the way her long lashes rest against her cheeks, the way her mouth has softened from that tight line she wears when she's trying too hard to be okay.
She's so overwhelmed, and can;t even let me in.
"Yeah," I whisper to myself, a little sad. "You're done for the night."
Carefully, I shift my arms under her. One behind her shoulders, one under her knees.
She barely reacts.
That's good.
I think we all know what she'd do if she saw I was lifting her to bed.
She is lighter than she should be. That thought lands somewhere uncomfortable, so I don't linger on it.
The house is quiet now except for the soft creak of floorboards under my steps. The kitchen light feels too bright behind me.
I've gotta turn that off soon.
Her head settles against my chest again as I carry her, like it remembers where it wants to be.
"Why do you always have to run yourself into the ground?" I mutter under my breath.
I move through the hallway slowly, careful not to jostle her too much. Every step feels measured.
Our bedroom door is already slightly open. I nudge it wider with my shoulder and step inside.
The room is dim, lit only by the soft spill of hallway light behind me. Everything feels calmer in here.
I walk to the bed and lower her carefully onto the mattress.
Thankfully, she doesn't wake.
She just shifts slightly as the surface changes under her, her hand briefly curling into the fabric like she's searching for something to hold onto.
I stay still for a second, watching her settle before pulling the blanket up over her shoulders. Gosh, if she knew I was being this affectionate, she;d kill me.
I tuck the covers around her properly, making sure she's warm. My hand pauses for a second near her cheek, hovering like I'm not sure if I should touch her again.
I do anyway.
A light brush of my knuckles against her skin. I sit on the edge of the bed for a moment, just looking at her.
The anger she had earlier is gone. What's left is quiet. I lean forward and press a soft kiss to her forehead only because I can't think of anything else that says what I mean without words getting in the way.
"Eat tomorrow," I whisper, like she can hear me somewhere in that deep sleep of hers. "Properly. Please."
My thumb lingers at the edge of the blanket one last second before I pull back. I stand slowly, watching her for a moment longer than I need to.
There's a part of me that doesn't want to leave the room.
But I do, because she's tired. And she probably wouldn't want to see me, first thing in the morning.
I shut the door gently.