Chapter 8 Allegra
Allegra
“Do you need anything?” Levi asks.
“How about a magazine?” Derek offers.
“Or a juice?” Mav suggests.
“Are you cold?” Jameson tosses in.
I stare at the members of The Burnt Clovers and wrack my mind for why they’re all here, standing in Levi’s and my living room, staring at me like I’m a fragile piece of china about to break.
“I’m fine,” I manage.
Levi frowns. Derek’s jaw tics. Mav looks at me skeptically. Jameson shrugs.
I smile. “Did you all come into town for…me?” I guess.
“Of course,” Mav replies.
“But you were in Costa Rica,” I point out.
“And now I’m in LA.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“Thank you,” I tell Mav and Jameson. Opening my arms, they both step forward for a hug. Mav, willingly, since he’s a hugger. Jameson, hesitantly, because we’re not nearly as close as me and Mav. Still, I give him a tight squeeze.
When they release me, Derek’s at my side. He gently takes my elbow and guides me toward my room. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”
Normally, I’d protest. But he’s right; I need rest. My mind has alternated between a constant stream of thoughts and threatening to shut down completely. My body aches, an emptiness spreading through my limbs that I know reflects the loss I feel.
I wave to the guys and move toward my bedroom.
When we cross the threshold, Derek gently swings me into his arms and kicks my bedroom door closed behind him. He settles me in the center of my bed and moves toward my dresser, pulling open a few drawers.
“Top right,” I say.
He pulls open the drawer and pulls out my pajamas. A soft T-shirt I swiped from him and a pair of sleep shorts. When he spots the T-shirt, recognition flares in his gaze. His eyes soften as he turns toward me.
He drops the pajamas next to my hip and grasps the hem of my shirt. “Up.”
I put my arms in the air and let him peel my shirt off my frame. He doesn’t spend time checking me out. Instead, his touch is careful, his eyes averted from my chest. He pulls his T-shirt over my head, and I pop my arms through the arm holes.
“Lie down,” Derek murmurs, his voice huskier than it was a moment ago.
I do. My eyes close as he pops the button on my denim shorts.
For a heartbeat, I recall the times he undressed me. The desperate and frantic moments of him taking me to bed. Of our mouths clashing, our lips savoring.
“Lift.”
My hips rise from the bed. Derek rolls my shorts off. He works my sleep shorts up my legs and straightens them on my hips. Then, he pulls back my comforter and gets me settled, my head resting against propped pillows.
When I’m tucked in, he perches on the edge of my bed. “Are you hungry?”
I shake my head.
He tries again. “Thirsty?”
“No.”
Derek takes my hand and laces our fingers together. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admit.
He nods. “Me too. I want you to move in with me, Allegra. I know this is a fucking lot, but I want to take care of you. I’m all in this with you and I want us to do it, whatever the fuck it is, together.”
I exhale and sink deeper into my pillows. I knew this was coming; Derek mentioned as much at the hospital. But does he mean it? Is he really going to stay? And do I want to move?
“I like my place,” I admit. “I just got settled here.”
“I know.” Still, his eyes hold mine and I note the pleading ring around his irises.
“Plus, my brother is here so…” I trail off, not wanting to speak of Levi’s recovery with Derek. Whatever Levi chooses to share with his bandmates is his business.
But I wouldn’t feel right bouncing when he’s fresh out of rehab to appease Derek’s ego.
“Right,” Derek says, surprising me. “I understand.”
“You do?” I sputter.
He laughs. “Yeah, babe. I get it. I just want you to understand that I’m not going anywhere. And I want to be the one to look after you. Not Levi or fucking Mav.”
I snort. “Okay,” I agree.
“Okay,” he says. “Want to sleep for a bit?”
I yawn and snuggle deeper in my pillows. “Want to watch a movie?” I know I won’t make it too long into the film until sleep claims me, but right now, I don’t want to be alone. I want to feel the warmth of Derek’s body next to mine in bed. I want to have some reassurance that he means what he says.
That he’s going to take care of me. Be here as I navigate these strange feelings that change from one moment to the next. Help me through this wallowing sadness that feeds on every cell in my body.
I feel it, but I can’t show it. I want to process it, but it’s daunting.
“I’d love to,” Derek says. He kicks off his shoes and slips into the bed next to me. Underneath the covers, his hand finds mine. Our fingers thread together. With his spare hand, he flips on my television and navigates to Netflix.
“I called Dex,” he mentions out of nowhere.
I turn to look at his profile. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“We’re going to have lunch tomorrow. At noon.”
I smile. Squeeze his hand twice in encouragement. “That’s wonderful. I, I’m proud of you, Derek.”
Derek’s head rolls toward mine. He stares deep into my eyes. Squeezes my hand back once. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, Allegra.”
“That’s not true,” I say softly.
“Yeah. It is. I want to be better for you more than I want it for myself. I want to be the kind of dad a kid could be proud of. Not now,” he rushes to explain, given our loss. “But one day.”
“You will be,” I whisper. His words play every emotional note in my body.
“I hope so,” he counters. He settles on a show. “How about this matchmaking show?”
I bite my bottom lip. “That’s perfect.”
“I figured you’d like it,” he mutters as he presses play.
Our heads tip toward each other as we watch the candidates on the show introduce themselves.
Before the first two candidates make it to their first date, I’m asleep.
But Derek’s touch, the weight of his fingers against mine, the scent of his cologne, follows me into sleep. And it soothes something deep inside my soul. He brings me peace and I swim in it, feeling like I can breathe deeply for the first time in days.
I don’t know how many hours pass, but when I wake up, I’m alone in my bedroom. My throat is dry, and I feel groggy. It’s dark outside.
I swing my legs to the edge of my bed and shit, is that blood? I study my sheet before glancing at my sleep shorts. Fuck. It’s blood.
I move toward my bathroom to get cleaned up. The doctor said this would happen and yet, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I change my clothes, slap a pad into my underwear, and move to change my sheets.
My bedroom door swings open, and Derek enters. “You’re awake,” he says brightly. Noting the blood, he frowns. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you feel—”
“It’s fine.” I wave him away, embarrassed by the blood-stained sheets. “I just—what are you doing?”
“I got this,” he says easily, removing my soiled sheets. “Where can I find another set?”
I point to the linen closet in my bathroom. Derek shuffles into the bathroom and returns a moment later with fresh sheets.
I watch, dumbfounded, as he makes up my bed.
“You okay, Stellina? Hungry?” he asks as he tucks in the top sheet at the foot of my bed.
“What time is it?” I wonder.
“About ten p.m.”
“Wow. I slept the whole day.”
Derek shrugs as he fluffs my pillows. “You needed the rest.”
“I guess. Have you been here all day?”
“Most of it,” he says.
I frown. What the hell has he done all day? “Have you hung out with Levi?”
“I moved.” He straightens, his work done.
“Moved?” I mutter. What is he talking about?
Derek smiles. “I’m your new roommate.”
“Wh—what?” I sputter. “What about Levi? What do you mean—”
As I ask him questions, he exits my bedroom and returns with a duffle bag tossed over his shoulder. He plops it on the floor at the foot of my bed. Looks at me and grins.
“I get that you don’t want to leave your brother. And that this is your space, and you’re comfortable here. So, I came to you.”
“What?” I repeat, trying to process what’s happening. “You can’t just—”
“I’m here, babe. Whatever you need, I got it. I meant every damn thing I said to you, Stellina. I’m not fucking running. But I can’t be here, in LA, and not be with you either. So, I moved in.”
I stare at him for several beats, my mouth dropping open in shock.
He laughs and pulls me into a hug. Drops a kiss to the top of my head.
“I know this is fucked. It’s hard and it’s way out of my comfort zone. But we’ll figure this out. Together. Me and you. I got you, Allegra. Lean on me all you want, babe. I won’t fucking crack.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and press my ear against his chest. Listen to the rhythm of his heart.
I won’t fucking crack.
For the first time in a long time, I believe him. Maybe it’s because I feel like I’m cracking. Or splintering. Or maybe it’s because we’re both already a little chipped.
Whatever the reason, I don’t protest Derek’s announcement. Even though I don’t fully trust him or his promise to stay. Even though I don’t like him making decisions—like asking the doctor about my future fertility and moving himself into my home—without speaking to me about them first, I let it go.
Instead, I let him hold me. I let him ask me, again, if I’m hungry. I let him and Levi and the Clovers take care of me.
For the rest of the night, I stop worrying about things outside of my control and grieve my little fruit slice. When we crawl into bed later that night, Derek holds me in his arms. He breathes in the scent of my hair. His hands hold me together.
He kisses away the tears that stream down my cheeks.
The loss that ebbs and flows in my veins. The pain that twists my chest and gathers in my abdomen.
My baby is gone. My heart is broken.
He makes soothing sounds at the gasps that fall from my lips as my tears grow into sobs.
And he doesn’t waver. Not even once.
Derek doesn’t crack.
I do.