Chapter 19
NINETEEN
OLLIE
It’s just for the briefest of moments, but as awareness slowly trickles in the next morning, my heart skips with happiness.
Any minute now, I will hear the rustle of sheets and feel Ethan’s arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me into his chest. His pine scent will fill my senses and everything will be perfect.
We will get up, prepare breakfast, and he will kiss me even if it means burning what he’s cooking.
The cold won’t reach me because it’s never cold when he’s near.
It’s just for the briefest, tiny, little moment but I’m happy. Until yesterday’s events barrel down my mind and I know that when I open my eyes, nothing will be perfect.
Because everything is missing; his warmth, his scent, his touch.
Him.
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, pulling my covers around me, over my head, until I’ve blocked everything out.
I don’t want to wake up. I want to sleep forever because now I have something I can dream about.
I will dream about snow-capped trees and cabins in the wilderness; about burning fires in fireplaces and soft flannel shirts; about private smiles and teasing words over sizzling pans; about gentle men who make everything better.
He took me home. He made sure I was comfortable to the last second I was with him.
He even offered to let me stay longer, but I couldn’t.
I couldn’t take any more advantage of his kindness.
I couldn’t stay, not after our last time. Not when I felt my heart breaking even as my world shattered with the pleasure he gave me.
Not when I wished I could stay with all my heart.
“It was a fever dream, Ollie,” I whisper to myself, to the empty room around me. It was a fever dream and now it’s over and it’s time to wake up.
Everything will be back to normal.
I will be fine. Everything will be fine.
I bury my face in my pillow where no one can see my tears fall.
Not even me.
***
The sky is dark when I eventually manage to get myself out of bed.
There is no light in the apartment and I keep it that way. I don’t want to look at my surroundings. They’re not the ones I want to see.
My body feels so heavy as I shuffle towards the bathroom, every step sending jolts of awareness through my aching muscles.
I only switch on the light in the bathroom because I have to, or else I might end up hurting myself even more, but it feels like my head is being split in half, my eyes so swollen from crying I can barely keep them open.
My stomach is crumping from how empty it is and I haven’t even changed clothes since yesterday. Since he dropped me off.
I just fell into bed and wished for oblivion.
Taking off all my clothes, I make the mistake of looking at myself in the small mirror and my throat tightens to the point of pain.
Eyes red and dry drop to my neck and collarbone, taking in the faint marks that Ethan left on me when he kissed me and nipped at my skin. I look down at myself to see what the mirror can’t show, all the places his hands gripped me, his possessive touch a never-ending buzz that runs through me.
I trace the finger-shaped bruises on my waist, on my hips, on my thighs and I swear I can still feel him.
A whimper breaks free, and no matter how hard I try to smother it, I fail. I fail so much that sobs rack my body as pure, undiluted anguish tears me apart.
It hurts, Ethan. It hurts so much. Please, make it better.
No. He’s not responsible for me. Just because he was unbelievably kind and gentle and caring, it doesn’t mean that there’s anything else beyond that.
It doesn’t mean that he could actually… want me. Why would he? No one ever has until now. What is there to want?
Pain throbs in my chest as I step under the hot water of the shower.
God, haven’t I learned my lesson already?
When will I ever stop hoping?
We were just two strangers whose paths happened to cross. Two pieces of thread that got tangled in an impossible, beautiful pattern but now they’re once again loose.
It will get better, I think as I later dry myself and change into something clean and warm.
It has to.
He’ll forget me and I’ll move on like I always do, and at some point, my time at his cabin in the snowy mountains will be nothing but a distant memory.
And if, after I’ve had something to eat and laid down, my fingers wrap tightly around the piece of paper he gave me that’s hidden under my pillow, that is for me and only me to know.
***
The days pass and it’s not until it’s almost been a week that my body feels back to what it was like before the heat.
The crash after those heightened emotions is brutal, but I get through it, the soreness fading away, my strength returning slowly but steadily.
Thankfully, my employers are extremely understanding of the situation and the circumstances of my absence from work, and they are more than happy to let me come back whenever I am able to again, which is exactly nine days after I come home.
Home. Am I really home? Most days, it doesn’t feel like it.
Sometimes it’s every day, and that’s probably the reason why I don’t immediately notice the changes in me.
I don’t notice how, even though I still sneak glances over my shoulder, the fear is not as powerful.
Maybe it’s because I feel less threatened now that the heat has passed, or maybe I’m just being incredibly stupid, but for now at least, it doesn’t suffocate me.
It’s tamer. Tame enough to let me breathe and go on.
I don’t notice how the loneliness I’ve always felt is no longer crippling. The pain of it is still there, an echo that never leaves, but now it only grazes me. It scrapes against my ribs but it no longer sinks its claws in me. It’s easier to live with it.
He made it easier.
Him. Always him.
He wrapped a blanket of warmth and safety around me that lives under my skin and never lets my heart grow cold.
I miss him every day, all the time, in my every waking moment until sleep takes me and then he’s there, in my dreams, waiting for me, kissing my forehead while we make breakfast, running his fingers through my hair.
Soft looks, soft smiles, and an ache that constantly pulses but makes me feel alive.
At least, enough to keep going.