28. abbi
ABBI
Soft light infiltrates my sleep, and awareness grows that it’s morning. I hold my eyes closed, wanting to remain in this dreamy place between sleep and wakefulness, but my bladder screams at me that time’s almost up.
Before I open my eyes, I know I’m alone.
I can sense it. The room’s too silent, too still.
I can’t hear Nix’s breathing and there’s no warmth beside me.
I strain to listen harder; maybe he’s in the bathroom, but I don’t hear any water running or movement in there either.
I turn my head to the side, wincing at the pain in my neck, to find Nix’s side of the bed still made.
My heart sinks through the mattress to the floor beneath as I roll to my side, tucking my knees up to my chest, and study his side of the bed.
Every part of my body hurts this morning after what happened.
But it’s nothing compared to the pain in my heart at Nix pulling away.
I knew he’d do it, but I was hopeful he wouldn’t.
Maybe he’s just gone to get us coffee.
I push myself up, groaning at the aches in my body, and step into the bathroom to do my business and shower.
The warm water should help my sore muscles.
I flick on the switch in the bathroom and startle at my reflection, though I don’t know why.
I lean in closer—as if I really need to—and turn my neck from side to side, smoothing my fingers over the dark purple bruises.
I study my eye and the blood filling the white space from a burst blood vessel.
Nix can’t see this. If he sees the evidence of what he did during his night terror, he’ll never recover, and I don’t want to lose him.
I thought it was what I wanted.
Separate lives.
But I don’t.
We’ve come a long way since the day I asked for a divorce, and I’ll be damned if I lose what we’ve rebuilt.
I study my throat like it’s a science experiment.
I have a couple of turtleneck sweaters and a scarf I can use.
I don’t think foundation will be enough to cover the bruising while it’s this dark, but I’ll work something out. My eye is going to be trickier to hide.
Turning the shower on so the water can warm up, I head out and grab my clothes.
Still no Nix. I don’t know how much more my heart can take.
Worry for Murphy is already testing my emotional resilience; I don’t know that I can handle Nix pulling away as well.
I need him. I need his strength and support as we navigate Murphy’s injuries and recovery. I need us to be a team.
But above all of that, I need him to love me enough to want to stay.
I linger under the warm water for longer than necessary, hoping to give Nix enough time to get back to our room, because I’m not sure I can stand to walk out of this bathroom into an empty room.
Once I’m dry, I apply more arnica and dress, then brush my teeth and apply a little makeup to cover the bags under my eyes.
Pausing, my hand resting on the door handle, I suck in a careful breath and listen at the door. I press my ear against the wood, but I can’t hear any movement on the other side. I steel my spine, ready to deal with disappointment. It won’t be the first time or the last.
I press down on the handle and pull the door inward, and when I step over the threshold into the room, I’m met with silence; however, a breakfast tray sits on the coffee table.
Hope swiftly rises, and I adjust the neck of my sweater to make sure it’s covering my throat, but when I look more closely at the tray, I notice there’s only one plate of food and one cup of coffee.
I glance out of the window to the balcony, hopeful he’s taken his breakfast to eat out there, but the space is empty.
My phone buzzes with a message, and I snatch it up, hope growing that it’s Nix.
Jase
My stomach sinks as I unlock my phone. Seven fifteen.
Hey Abbi
Just checking in on you guys
How’s Murphy doing?
And how are you and Nix holding up?
Me
Hi Jase
Thanks for checking in
I’m not sure when I’ll be back at work because Murphy hasn’t woken up yet
Jase
I’m sorry to hear that
Is there anything we can do for you from here?
We’re not worried about how long you take, Oliver said he’ll hold your job for as long as you need
Me
Thanks Jase
I appreciate that
Knowing they’re willing to hold my position for as long as I need untangles some of the knots in my stomach.
Jase
No problem, take care of yourself
I sink into the small sofa and grab my coffee, sipping it slowly, wincing each time I swallow.
Shit, that hurts. Maybe I should take some more ibuprofen.
I lift the cover off the plate to find scrambled eggs.
Okay, so he isn’t here, but he took the time to order room service and was thoughtful enough to choose something that would be easy enough to swallow.
This gives me some hope that things will be okay, but where in the hell is he?
I have two options.
Compartmentalize the way I always do. I’m the queen of compartmentalizing. I’ve been doing it all my life; why stop now?
I can go about life the way I always do, pushing through each day and portraying that everything’s fine, even though it’s not. I can spend time with my husband and pretend none of this has eviscerated me, faking that we’re okay just like I have for the last six years.
Or, I can call Nix out and hopefully compel him to have a conversation with me, which may be difficult if he’s shut down and pulled away like I figure he has.
It would be the more beneficial option, even though it will be an incredibly uncomfortable and painful one.
But if we want to save our marriage, we need to have tough conversations.
No sweeping things under the rug, so to speak.
Either way, Murphy needs to be our priority right now, and Nix and I need to work out our shit around him without him being caught in the middle. His recovery and healing need to be our primary concern.
Anger burns in my gut the longer Nix is absent.
How could he leave me after what happened last night?
He may have ordered breakfast for me, but how dare he abandon me.
I deserve a conversation at the bare minimum, not just left to deal with the aftermath alone.
I curl my fingers into a tight fist, digging my fingernails into my palms. My blood boils and tension coils my muscles.
A knock at the door interrupts my fury, and I climb to my feet, shaking out my hands.
I stop to check that the neck of my sweater still covers my throat in the mirror by the door.
I peer through the peephole, but there’s nobody there.
Another knock sounds, but it’s not coming from this door.
Following the noise, it seems to come from the door which adjoins this room with the room next door.
I pad over and place my ear to the door, almost having a heart attack when the person knocks again.
“Abbi. It’s me,” Nix announces, dropping me into a pit of confusion.
Why on earth is he knocking from the room next door?
Realization strikes, and my anger returns to the boil in an instant.
He didn’t. I narrow my eyes at the door, in two minds what to do.
This is exactly what I hoped he wouldn’t do, but he’s done it anyway.
In his mind, he probably thinks he’s doing the right thing.
Keeping me safe. But in reality, all he’s done is drive the wedge between us deeper.
“Abbi. I left my key to your room”—My room?
My eyebrows shoot up—“behind when I went for a run to clear my head. All of my things are still in your room, but I need to shower before we see Murphy. Please let me in.” A thump vibrates through the door, and I imagine Nix dropping his head against it in defeat.
Let him in? Is he for real right now? I feel as though my head is going to explode.
I unlock and wrench the door open, and he falls forward before he catches himself.
“Let you in!” I snap. “All I do is let you in and all you do is shut me out!” My boiling blood heats my face, and I’m sure I look unhinged with the way Nix’s eyes widen.
My throat burns with the volume of my voice, and I swallow down the fiery pain.
I fling my arm out toward the room from where he entered.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-yell, my voice strained and raspy. Shit, that hurts.
He straightens and walks past me as if I’m not furious. My eyes trace every movement as if they have a mind of their own, and I wish I didn’t notice how fantastic he looks sweaty from his run, and the way his T-shirt molds to his broad chest, or the way the sleeves stretch around his biceps.
Damn him. Why does he always have to steal my thoughts like that?
He stands with his back to me for a moment, his hands resting on his trim hips. The way his back moves with each breath in and out is almost mesmerizing, and if it weren’t for my need for some kind of discussion … an explanation, I’d fall at his feet.
When he turns to me, his face is etched with pain. Pain so deep I can tell it reaches the depths of his soul, and I lose my breath for a moment. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Abs,” he growls.
I step closer, closing the distance he’s put between us. “The only place I feel safe is with you.”
He squeezes his eyes shut as though my words are a dagger shoved deep into his heart. “That can’t possibly be true,” he grumbles.
I take another step, closing the space between us further.
“Are you calling me a liar?” I whisper as I reach out to cup his bristly cheek.
He flinches, and another crack forms across my heart.
“Because I know how I feel. Waking up this morning with you gone broke my heart. Feeling abandoned by you hurt more than any bruises around my throat,” I murmur.