Chapter 28 #3
Grier didn’t know what she needed. She hadn’t eaten much all week, but asking for food would mean Tobin leaving her side, and that was the very last thing she wanted.
“Just you… will—” she hesitated, the vulnerability of her request more apparent than she usually allowed, though she knew Tobin was the one person she could trust with it. “—will you just hold me? P—please?” Her eyes glistened as she fought to mute her emotions.
Tobin’s eyes softened, and a quiet smile spread across her cheeks. Grier could literally see Tobin’s love for her in the tenderness of that smile.
“There’s nothing I’d like more, Cinderella,” Tobin whispered, already untucking the edge of the blanket to create a pocket for her to slide into. She shifted her body into the corner of the couch.
Grier snuggled instinctively into the crook of Tobin’s waiting arm, resting her head on Tobin’s chest. She found refuge in the familiar rhythm of Tobin’s heartbeat, keeping her grounded in the present.
They sighed synchronically. Grier hummed with comfort as Tobin’s deft fingers began alternating between gently tugging at loose strands of hair and sinking to her scalp to stroke and massage.
“I’ve missed you,” Tobin whispered adoringly, continuing her ministrations.
Grier didn’t have words. She didn’t want to think right now. She just wanted to feel Tobin’s love through her tender touches and soft words. She craved the oblivion of numbness that came with disconnecting from everything and everyone around her—everyone but Tobin.
She nuzzled in closer, artfully lifting her head to brush her lips against the open skin where Tobin’s neck met her shoulder, allowing her tenderness to be the only answer either of them needed.
Grier didn’t know how long they sat there like that, but eventually, her mind began drifting back to Jonah.
She could feel the tension creeping determinedly back into her muscles.
Tobin had taken her phone when she walked her inside, and Grier had no idea where it ended up.
She honestly wasn’t certain if she wanted to immediately know when Maren’s text came through—but she realized it wouldn’t matter.
Her watch would vibrate with the incoming message regardless of where her phone was.
Tobin must have sensed the shift in her, because the hand that had been stroking her hair slid down to her arm and gently squeezed her closer.
Grier recognized the technique instantly—Tobin was applying compression, a biofeedback method she’d once taught her to ground herself and activate her parasympathetic system when anxious.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tobin asked gently.
Grier knew she wouldn’t press—she was offering a willing ear if she needed a sounding board.
She shook her head, “No…” and drew her knees closer to her chest, finding the fetal position to be a comforting and natural position during her worst periods of grief.
“Will—will you keep talking, though?” she added softly. The steady rumble of Tobin’s voice was soothing, and Grier wanted to focus on the vibrations as she fought the invasive thoughts that were reverberating in her skull.
She felt Tobin’s chest bounce with a stifled chuckle and knew it was born of affection. The sound drove her deeper into Tobin’s arms, burrowing into the security Tobin provided.
So Tobin talked. She didn’t talk about anything in particular, knowing Grier probably wouldn’t have the capacity to remember anything important—and that the point wasn’t content, but comfort.
Her voice lulled Grier into a sense of quietude.
It worked. She didn’t remember slipping into darkness, but when she opened her eyes, dusk had fallen around them.
She was still tucked snugly against Tobin’s chest, one of her arms wrapped around her, absently stroking the length of her arm while she silently read a book.
Instead of stretching and rising—despite her body’s growing insistence—Grier burrowed deeper into Tobin’s torso. Tobin softly giggled, and soon Grier felt her body engulfed in both of Tobin’s strong arms.
“Welcome back,” Tobin said, digging through the mixtures of fabrics to uncover Grier’s face. Once she had successfully exposed her, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, sending a soft zing along Grier’s spine.
“How long was I out?” Grier asked, shifting onto her back so that her head rested in Tobin’s lap. She looked up at her, eyes still heavy with sleep.
Tobin glanced at the clock beneath the TV, the corners of her eyes tightening as she did some mental mathematics. Then she looked back down at Grier, her voice soft. “About an hour and a half.”
Grier sighed. She didn’t want to look at her watch—or find her phone, for that matter.
The blissful nothingness of the past ninety minutes had been the most peace she’d had in a week.
And Tobin was buffering her from a reality she wasn’t ready to return to.
She wanted to stay in this moment as long as possible, knowing there was bad news on the other end of it.
Knowing that Tobin was leaving tomorrow didn’t help. They hadn’t had much time to talk about the trip, and while Grier knew it was just for work—and that Tobin would come back, come back to her, specifically—the timing couldn’t be worse.
The tears started falling, despite the numbness she thought she’d managed to contain.
They came hard and fast, startling her so much that a small, gasping sob escaped her throat before she could choke it back.
Through bleary eyes, she watched Tobin’s face shift— first with alarm, then into something closer to terror—before she quickly masked it.
But not quickly enough.
She needed Tobin right now. Tobin had handled everything perfectly so far—a godsend, really, when it came to comfort and presence. But that look… it unsettled something in Grier. It told a different story from the one Tobin was presenting outwardly. And it scared her.
But Tobin was here. She was with her. That had to mean something, right?
Surely she was allowed her own experiences, her own fears, even when her partner was going through something.
Grier shook her head, trying to dislodge the invasive thoughts before they took up residence inside her clearly—though momentarily— overreactive brain.
She looked up at Tobin, her gaze meeting the deep concern in those green eyes. She felt soft fingers wipe at the tears streaking her temples, then gently thread through her hair. Tobin didn’t try to coax her to talk. She didn’t try to offer false comfort.
No—Tobin understood there was nothing to say. Nothing could be done. The fight was over.
They were just waiting now.
Grier shook her head again. She was obviously reading into things.
She was sleep-deprived, starving, and overly emotional.
Tobin was here, and that was all that mattered.
So, she accepted Tobin’s presence—and the fleeting look of terror that had crossed her face—with the kind of resignation only the devastated could manage.
She accepted it wholly, and gave herself over to the smallest comfort, finding solace in its meager purity.
Bracing herself for the inevitable, she sighed and said, with absolutely zero conviction, “I should check my phone…”
Tobin raised the hand not currently tangled in Grier’s hair, revealing Grier’s phone in her grasp.
She tapped the screen, and the backdrop lit up—a selfie from one of their hikes, Grier cozied under Tobin’s chin, both of them grinning into the camera with wide, genuine smiles. There were no notifications.
“No news yet,” Tobin whispered, lowering the phone and meeting Grier’s gaze.
In those eyes, Grier saw so much love and sadness and an entire novel’s worth of unspoken sorrow. She saw how much Tobin wanted desperately to make this better for her. They both knew she was powerless to do so.
“Can I convince you to eat something?” Tobin asked gently, still running her fingers through Grier’s hair.
Grier closed her eyes, relishing in the contact.
She didn’t want to move from this position—but she did need to eat.
Reaching up, she took Tobin’s hand in her own, bringing it to her cheek.
She nuzzled the sensitive skin of Tobin’s wrist with her lips, grounding herself in the steady thrum of Tobin’s pulse and the familiar scent of her skin.
She nodded faintly into Tobin’s hand, and conceded her body to the quiet necessity of food. When Tobin shifted out from beneath her, Grier let her guide her up and onto her feet.
Tobin led them to the kitchen, positing Grier onto a stool. “Any requests?” she asked, her tone light but full of intention.
Grier didn’t have to think—she knew she needed comfort food right now. “Grilled cheese and soup. Tomato, or something hearty.”
Tobin practically beamed, visibly relieved not to have to coax a request out of her. “You’ve always been a woman who knows what she wants…” she said, her voice warm with something more than amusement.
She winked, and her smile softened into something so full of fondness that Grier felt herself blink against fresh tears.
“Lucky for me,” Tobin added, “it’s always played to my advantage.”
Grier watched Tobin dig a container of frozen tomato soup out of the freezer and set it in a pot on the stove to reheat.
She fought the urge to stand and help with the sandwiches, understanding that Tobin needed to cook for her—to show her love in this small, tangible way—as much as Grier needed to eat what was lovingly made.
“Tell me about your trip,” Grier said softly, craving the distraction and the information.
“Ah…” Tobin hesitated, only briefly. “Well… current circumstances aside, I’ve been looking forward to this trip—and the course—all year. I always do…”