Chapter 18 #2
His black sheets are the incredibly soft bamboo kind, and smell like him.
It’s instantly comforting. He pulls me into his chest, my head tucked underneath his chin, our legs tangled.
Those inked arms of his hold me tightly, like they never want to let me go.
I’ve never felt so safe and cherished in my life.
His heart rate slows and his breathing evens out underneath my cheek before I drift off right along with him.
Sunlight peeks in through the crack in drawn forest green curtains as I stir in the morning, but I can’t move much. An arm is banded tightly around my waist, day old scruff tickling my forehead. The scruff moves, replaced by warm lips kissing my forehead as the arm around me pulls me even closer.
“Good morning, mi vida,” Gage sleepily rasps.
“Hey, Casanova,” I say, smiling into his warm, bare chest.
I haven’t slept so well in ages, maybe ever.
We can take our time this morning, since I have a rare day off from both the diner and the shelter.
My plan is to follow up on my application for my non-profit and send out a bunch of emails to people regarding clothing donations, food donations, career services, and everything else I’ll need.
Gage doesn’t have to be at the bar until later.
So I stretch in his arms, press a kiss to his pec, and try to be present in this lovely moment without freaking out or getting too far into my own head.
He smooths my hair and kisses my cheek.
“Want to say screw cooking for breakfast and order in pork roll, egg, and cheese sandwiches?” he asks.
“With salt, pepper, and ketchup?” The hopeful tone of my voice is comical, because a greasy breakfast sandwich sounds incredible right now.
“Of course with salt, pepper, and ketchup, I’m not an animal,” he teases.
We loll around in bed a little more, holding each other and quietly chatting about nothing until our stomachs and other human needs can’t be ignored anymore. Gage orders the sandwiches while I get myself washed and dressed in simple denim shorts and heather grey tee.
I’m in the kitchen getting coffee going when he bounds down the stairs, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around my waist and kiss my temple.
It still takes me by surprise, even though I heard him coming and want him to hug me like this.
He feels my muscles momentarily tense up, and lets me go immediately.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly.
I shake my head. Tears sting my eyes with frustration that I’m like this, anger at the people who made me this way, and just for fun, joy that someone is showing me genuine affection. It’s a clusterfuck of emotions.
“The affection is still something I’m getting used to, that’s all. You didn’t do anything wrong. Last night and this morning have just been a lot for my touch starved heart to process,” I manage to get out around the lump in my throat.
He tentatively squeezes my shoulder.
“Hey, it’s not going to happen overnight. Like I said, we go at your pace. I shouldn’t have come up behind you like that, it was stupid of me.”
I turn to face him and take a breath.
“Let’s start over. Hi,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my head into his chest.
“Hey,” he murmurs, returning the hug and running a soothing hand up and down my back.
I pull back a little to look up at him.
“You seem much cooler about all of this happening between us than I am,” I say with a note of accusation.
He tilts his head in thought.
“It’s not that I’m cool about it in some blasé way, or like I’m not invested,” he speculates.
“Something my dad said has stuck with me. When he made his stipulation that I have to get married, he said that maybe some woman would come along and knock me off my feet. Your face flashed into my mind at that moment, because you literally made me stumble the first time I saw you.”
My jaw drops.
“I did not,” I sputter.
“It was before you ordered your drink. The moment you walked in with Tania and Carlo, I noticed you and nearly landed on my ass. Then you show up at the bar not long after my dad tells me I have to get married and, lo and behold, getting married would help you, too. I don’t necessarily always believe in fate, but it feels like some force kept pushing us together to get to this point.
Maybe it’s Abuela telling me to stop being an idiot.
I’m scared as fuck about this blowing up and us both getting hurt, but I don’t see the point in ignoring it either.
I’m going to just roll with it,” he says with a helpless shrug.
I bring my head to his chest again and breathe in the clean, cotton smell of his baby blue tee.
“I don’t know how to just roll with things. I’m always in fight or flight mode,” I confess into his shirt.
“I know,” he sighs, kissing my forehead. “I’d rather you fight with me than fly though, ok? Until hopefully, one day, you feel safe enough to not be constantly in that mode.”
It’s not easy to be perceived the way he perceives me.
Becoming truly seen when you’ve always tried to hide yourself feels like getting squished between glass and thrown under the most uncomfortable microscope.
Thankfully, I’ve learned to perceive him as well, because he’s a lot like me in certain ways.
Both of us were abandoned when we were four, even though he still has his dad and brother. It shaped us deeply enough that it’s affected so many aspects of our lives. This man is sitting here, vulnerable, asking me to not be another person who crushes him by abandoning him without a word.
“I’ll fight with you and for you if you do the same, even if this ends up not working out,” I promise.
“I think fighting with you could be fun,” he rasps with a chuckle, squeezing me tighter and pressing another kiss to my temple.
“Bring it on, Casanova,” I retort with a grin.