Chapter 25 Sloane
SLOANE
Today is not a good day. Some days are like this, where reality sets in, the hate comments win, I remember how alone I am, and everything just gets too much.
It’s not often I let these days win. But it’s hard to beat your demons every day, especially when they’re fucking screaming at you as loud as they can.
Sometimes it’s easier to just lie down and let them kick the shit out of you.
To just take it because when they're done, you can wipe your tears and keep pretending like everything is fine. Pretend like you don’t think about every single bad thing anyone’s ever said about you, even if it's from over a decade ago.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every negative thought just played in my head on repeat. I knew that it was going to be a rough night, so I declined when Beckett asked if I wanted to stay with him.
I didn’t want to explain why I was sobbing into my pillow silently all night long.
I didn’t want to have to talk about all the things that are going on inside my head.
I didn’t want to talk about how dark it really gets sometimes.
Or explain to him the things I think about doing when it seems like there is no light at the end of my tunnel.
I lay in my bed, curled up in my blankets. Staring at my door, as silent tears stream down my face.
I freeze when I hear his footsteps stop outside my door. I close my eyes when I hear my door open. I try to calm my breathing down, to seem like I’m asleep.
“Baby?” he whispers, as I feel the bed dip and he gently brushes his hand down my arm.
I sniffle, unable to hold it back.
“My sweet girl,” he whispers, pulling me into his arms. I fall apart. I don’t say words, I just bury my face into his shirt and cry.
He holds me tight, not saying anything. He kisses the top of my head, holding me tightly.
I don’t know how long he holds me, or how long I cry into him. He lets me stay there even after I stop crying, trembling, and hiccuping into his chest.
“It’s ok, just let it all out,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket. I'm not sure what he’s doing, but he calls someone.
“Hey, sorry for the late notice, but I’m going to have to take a sick day, maybe two. I think I got that summer cold that Jared came down with last week,” he lies, loosening his tie. I shake my head at him. I don’t want him to have to take more work off for me.
He pauses as he listens to whoever he’s talking to.
“I will keep you updated, bye,” he says, hanging up and putting his phone on my nightstand.
He lays me down and stands up, stripping himself down to only his boxers before climbing into bed with me.
“It’s ok, baby, I’m here,” He whispers, pulling me into his chest and kissing my forehead.
“You can go, you don’t have to stay home with me. I’ll be fine. I’m just being dramatic,” I whisper, letting out a shaky breath.
“Baby, you’re crying to the point that you're shaking and struggling to breathe,” he whispers, pulling me even closer to him.
“I’ll be ok,” I lie.
“Is this why you didn’t want to spend the night with me?” he asks, his fingers running up and down my arm, soothing me. His presence in general calms me, and I already feel better compared to before he walked in.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“You’ll never be a bother to me,” he says, pressing a kiss to my clothed shoulder.
“Why did you come in?” I ask after a couple of minutes of quiet.
“I always kiss you goodbye, especially when you sleep in your own room,” he whispers, and it makes my breath catch.
“You do?”
“Yeah,” he admits, pulling me impossibly closer to him.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.”
We lay in silence as he holds me. He doesn’t ask questions or press for any kind of information, which I’m grateful for.
He’s always been good at waiting until I’m ready to talk.
I roll so that I can see him, burying my face into his bare chest as he holds me tightly against him.
I let out a small sigh. I’d never told anyone about this side of myself. Not that anyone would ever care enough to listen or ask.
“I just want to be enough.”
I have to pause and take a few breaths; the tears are coming hard now.
I find it hard to keep the emotion out of my voice.
“I was a nobody for eighteen years. I still probably am, but now I have people who care. People who message me, making sure I’m ok if I skip a day and don’t post. Who tells me that I’m pretty and asks me how my day is going.
I have hundreds of thousands of people who care.
And while it makes me feel better, I’m still so fucking alone. ”
“You’re not alone, baby. You have me, Mocha, and Kaden,” he whispers into my hair. I bury my face back into his chest as I start sobbing again.
“I want a girl friend. I want late-night gossip. I want sleepovers. I want someone to send me a million Loops because their home page was just loaded with things that reminded them of me. I want to go on shopping trips. I want someone to go to the gym with.” I hiccup and have to force myself to stop rambling so that I can breathe.
“I’m sorry for not noticing your pain earlier, my sweet girl. But I see you, and I will never look over you again.”
I shake my head. The last thing I want is for him to take any of this on himself. He deserves so much more than this.
“I pick you,” he whispers after a minute or two of silence.
“I pick you. I will continue to pick you over and over. Over my job, over your dad, over just about anyone or anything, because you deserve that. You are the sunshine in so many people's lives, baby. Whether you realize it or not, you shine brighter than the sun, but even the sun has a dark side. And that’s ok.”
“You don’t have to choose me.”
“If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t be lying here in this bed with you.
If I didn’t want you, I would have never kissed you, and I definitely would have never taken you to bed.
I’m not good with words, and I’m not good at feelings, but I want to keep choosing you.
I need you to let me. I need you to stop pushing me away.
I want to know what you’re feeling, the good and the bad.
I can’t help you if I don’t know if anything is wrong. ”
I nod, knowing deep down that he has a point. The moment he decided to kiss me, the second, third time, and all the times after that, he was choosing me over his best friend. Even today, he chose to stay home with me. To use a sick day or two, to make sure that I’m ok.
“No one has ever treated me like you have. Even when you take away all the kisses and the sex, you're a good person. You’ve shown me more kindness in a few months than anyone else has in my entire life.”
“That’s because you deserve it. You mean more to me than you’ll ever realize.
It’s ok to have hard days. It’s ok to put your phone down.
You don’t need to justify anything that you do to anyone.
You just need to do whatever it is to make sure you get out of the dark hole.
You wanna cuddle, eat ice cream, go to a rage room?
We can do whatever you want, baby. You let me know. ”
I nod against his chest, clinging to him because once again, without even realizing it, he’s saving me. Picking up all my shattered pieces and molding them back into a person.
“Can we just lie here? I didn’t get any sleep,” I whisper.
“Of course we can, for as long as you need,” he affirms, kissing my head and rubbing my back.
I cry for a little bit longer, but eventually I’m so exhausted that I fall asleep and I stay asleep for quite awhile. I breathe him in, and remind myself over and over again that I will always have him, no matter what.
I don’t know how long I rest for, but when I wake up, Beckett’s arms are still around my middle, and I’m safely secure against his chest.
I let out a small sigh, rolling so that I’m facing him. His eyes find mine immediately.
“Good morning,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.
“Thank you,” I whisper, resting my head against his chest.
“You never have to thank me for the bare minimum,” he says, and I take a shaky breath. I can’t cry, not again. I’ve already spent way too long crying today.
Mocha jumps up onto the bed and licks my face, making me smile. “Hey, baby,” I say, rolling onto my back, still pressed against Beckett’s side.
“What would you like to do today?” Beckett asks, kissing my shoulder. I shrug.
“I don’t know, something without service,” I say.
“Get ready and pack a bag with things you’re ok to get dirty and clothes that are comfy, maybe even a hoodie and a swimsuit,” He says, kissing my nose.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m going to take you and Mocha camping,” he says, a small smile on his face.
“Camping?”
“I think that you’re going to love it, so bring enough clothes for the weekend, and I’ll go get everything else ready.”
I’d never really been camping before. My dad had taken us once, and it was a horrible experience, so he never took us ever again.
I’d be lying if I said that a weekend with nothing but the two of us didn’t sound perfect. No people, no social media, just us and whatever memories we can create before we have to come back.
Before I know it, my feet are kicked up on his dashboard as he drives. One hand on the steering wheel, the other holding my hand.
Mocha lies sprawled out in the backseat, our bags on the floor, with our tent, cooler, chairs, and other supplies in the bed of the truck.
“Everyone smile,” I say, holding up my phone to make sure that we’re all in it before taking a cute selfie.
Once I take the picture, I look at it to make sure I look ok. Since the other two don’t have to try to look good.
“Well, two of us are smiling,” I mumble, side-eying Beckett, who smirks.
Asshole.
I huff and go to turn my body away from him. His hand grabs my thighs, and he stops me.
“No.”
“Grrr,” I imitate, trying to sound like a caveman.