Chapter 6 #3
I get up off the couch to refill my drink, and to put some space between us. He’s not done telling me everything, but I need to get back in the right mindset to finish this discussion. As I pass him, Cash reaches out and grabs my hand, halting my steps.
“I wanted to be with you, Hazel.” He looks at my hand as his thumb rubs over my knuckles, lost in deep thought.
“That happens when you’re worried about someone.”
My hand slips from his, and I make my way to the kitchen.
I look at the bottle and back to my glass for a moment before putting the bottle to my lips.
The wine fills my mouth, and I gulp it down in the hopes it will drown the emotions swirling within me.
But the lump in my throat remains and grows larger with every pull of the bottle.
The more I swallow, the more it feels like I’m choking.
I lower the bottle, letting it thunk on the counter top, and breathe through the panic attack building inside me.
“I was infatuated with you.”
The rumble of his voice makes me clutch the counter, my breath caught in my chest. As much as I want to know, I can’t listen to it right now. It’s all too much to take in when I’m still coming to terms with what Phil did to me.
“The longer I watched you, the more I was drawn to you,” he continues, his voice getting closer.
“You learn a lot about people when they don’t know you’re looking.
” My back warms as the heat of his body gets closer.
He places his hands on the counter, trapping me between his arms. “Want to know what I learned about you?”
I stare down at the counter, thankfully hidden by the curtain of hair falling around my face, and shake my head.
Cash’s slight stubble on his jaw rubs against the side of my face as he leans closer, his chest grazing my back.
His heart beats a rhythm that mine recognizes and tries to keep in tune with.
I’d rather face Phil right now, because at least I know where I stand with him.
“You are selfless,” he says, disregarding me.
“You’re happiest when those around you are happy.
You have this need to help others, without getting anything in return.
But you’re too prideful to let anyone in to help you when you need it most. You push people away by putting the focus back on them, and deal with shit that you shouldn’t have to deal with alone.
And you do it all with the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.
” His arms drape gently around me, and he rests his head against mine.
“It’s hard to find genuinely good people in the world,” he whispers.
“Trust me, I know. I’ve spent my life watching people selfishly choose their needs over others. And I turned into one of them.”
Cash turns me around and cups the side of my face, lifting it up to his.
“I didn’t want this to happen. I wanted to do my job and come home.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted what you freely gave everyone else.
So I selfishly took it. I needed to see you smile at me like that, and know I was the reason for it.
And when you did, I couldn’t get enough.
” He searches my eyes as he bares his heart to me.
His mouth hovers over mine, bathing my lips in the warmth of his whiskey-scented breath with every word.
“I wanted more. I thought I’d get it and walk away from you when this was over.
But there’s a piece of me that thinks I deserve this.
” His mouth brush against mine tormentingly, as the shaky words fall from his lips. “That I deserve you.”
The uncertainty in his eyes, and the waiver in his voice makes my chest hurt.
It’s the same way he spoke to me the night we spent together.
Whatever Cash went through scarred him deeply.
I don’t want to add to his heartbreak. I don’t want to be hurt more, either.
There’s so much about him I don’t know. The little bit I do know makes me want to run away.
I can’t be with a drug dealer. I can’t be with someone who lies to me.
My heart is screaming at me to kiss away his doubt—that we will figure it all out.
But my mind is screaming at me to figure things out first; if I do it the other way around, I’m not going to have a heart to listen to.
“Cash….” I stop, working through the words to find the best way to say it. His gaze flickers over my face, and when it meets mine again, he’s shut me out. He drops his hand from my face, and I grab it in both of mine. “It wouldn’t work. You’re a drug dealer.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“You lied to me. You manipulated—”
“I never manipulated you. And I only lied to you about why I was there.” His hand tightens in mine. “Everything else was the truth.”
“You have this idealized version of me. I’m not that woman.”
His brow furrows as he leans into me. “I don’t idealize shit.
Never have. I see what’s right in front of me.
I know the kind of pain you feel. I’ve felt it for as long as I can remember and have learned to live with it.
You make me forget and want to trust again.
I know I do the same for you.” Cash lightly runs his finger over the belt marks on my neck.
“I don’t want you to just survive, Hazel. I want you to live.”
Cash’s face blurs as I fight back tears.
It’s hard for me to see myself the way he does.
When I look at myself, I see someone tainted by hate, with invisible scars that run deep.
The person I was just a matter of weeks ago is foreign to me.
I can’t figure out how to be her anymore.
I’ve tried. The things that make her tick seem so simple and easy to emulate.
But they’re not. How do you find that easy-going happiness when you’re full of anxiety, despair, and anger?
Maybe it’s too soon. They say time heals all wounds, but it is not my friend.
No matter how much time passes, I may never find it alone, trapped inside my head.
I don’t understand the connection I have with Cash, but I need it.
He calms the anger and anxiety eating away inside me.
Even though I don’t know much about him, I feel safe with him and trust that he will never physically harm me.
No, what worries me most with Cash is emotional harm.
In my weakened state, I’ll never bounce back from that.
It will break me completely. The question is, can I live with not knowing what could’ve been and try to heal myself, or do I risk being broken for a chance to feel whole again?
“I know what you’re thinking.” Cash grabs my upper arms and pulls me to him. “Quit fighting yourself into that hole. Let me help you out of it. You don’t have to do it alone.”
His fingers dig into the bruises on my arms as his grip tightens. The air sucks between my teeth loudly, and my lids squeeze shut as I fight the groan in my throat. Cash instantly lets ago and takes a step back, his head hanging low.
“I’m sorry,” he says shamefully. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay,” I say, as I gently rub my arms to ease the ache. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
He nods and turns away, as if he’s searching the room for the words to say and can’t find them. “You’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you’re tired. Let me show you where you’re sleeping.”
And just like that, the conversation is over. He took a chance, let the walls around his heart down, and I froze. It’s as if our roles have reversed.
He takes my hand and leads me down the hall of his past, stopping at the door across from the bathroom.
The room is decorated plainly in soft pastels.
A beautiful four-poster bed takes up the majority of space.
Carved into the frame in a delicate pattern is ivy.
The posts swirl at the top, reminding me of the way ivy grows and wraps around things.
The entire bed appears to be hand carved.
My finger traces the ivy on the tall footboard, and I’m amazed at how smooth it feels. “This is the most beautiful bed I’ve ever seen.”
“I thought you would appreciate it.” A small smile forms on Cash’s face before it melts into a taught line. “My father made it.”
“He must be a natural woodworker,” I say, continuing my perusal.
“He needed something to help him adjust to civilian life when he was discharged from the Marines.” Cash stares at the bed, but he’s not focused on it. He’s haunted and lost in a daze, seeing a memory that torments him. “It kept his mind…busy.”
The way he talks about his father in the past tense makes me feel awful for my previous statement. Losing him must have been a traumatic experience, and one of the reasons why he closes himself off to people.
Before I can say anything, Cash leaves the room and returns with my overnight bag I left in the bathroom.
“The dresser is empty if you want to unpack.” He grabs the doorknob and begins to pull the door closed. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”
He doesn’t wait for a response and closes the door.
Mentally, I’m exhausted. But, physically, I’m not.
I slept through half the day after that ass gave me the sedative.
I unpack my meager belongings into the top drawer of the dresser, and then lay my bag atop it before examining the room that once belonged to Cash’s father.
It’s so quiet I can hear the crickets outside.
Me and quiet don’t fare so well these days.
I pull the curtains back a tad and peek outside.
The dusk-to-dawn light shines brightly from the driveway, but doesn’t do a great job illuminating the area of the house I’m sleeping in.
Shadows dance along the ground, put in motion by the gently blowing breeze.