Page 34 of Tell Me Something True

Her flinch was quick, but he saw. He tried to loosen his hold, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He opened his mouth to apologize, but his throat was constricted with shame and no words came out.

“It’s okay,” she said, and he had no idea if she was absolving him of causing her pain or trying to comfort him.

He didn’t deserve either of them.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, rubbing her thumbs along the backs of his hands, the gentle back and forth easing the tension. He loosened his hold. “I’m not leaving. I’m just going to get you some water.”

But she didn’t try to tug free again.

She waited for him to let her go.

And Christ help him, he couldn’t do it.

He was even more fucked up than he’d thought.

This entire night had been about getting over her.

Letting her go, once and for all.

Forcing his fingers to straighten, he slid down so that he sat on his ass and once again leaned his head back against the doorframe.

Once again shut his eyes.

Unable to watch her walk away—even if it was just to his kitchen.

He heard the faint sound of one of his kitchen cabinet doors being opened then shut; then another, followed by water running.

Then the click-clack of high heels on hardwood. Getting louder.

Coming closer.

He opened his eyes as she crouched before him, her knees together and angled to the side, the hem of her shirt barely covering the curve of her naked ass.

“Here you go,” she said, holding the glass of water up to his mouth.

He wanted to scoff. To grab the glass and gulp it down, to show he was a grown-ass man capable of taking care of himself and everyone he cared about.

But he didn’t feel strong, he felt weak as a baby. And when he lifted his hands, they still trembled so much, she had to wrap her hands around his on the glass to steady them. Kept them there as he drank deeply.

When the glass was empty, she set it aside. “Do you want to sit here a little longer?”

He shook his head. She straightened and held her hands out to him. Another gesture that should piss him off, but he’d learned his lesson with the glass, so he didn’t scowl or try to leap to his feet on his own.

He took her hands, gently this time, and let her help him up.

But when she tried to tug him toward that damn couch, he let go of her hands, turned slowly, then shuffled down the hall.

She didn’t follow. Nausea rolled in his stomach. He didn’t want her to follow him. Didn’t need her kindness or patience.

She’d already seen him at his lowest. Had helped him through the worst of it.

He’d get through the rest on his own.

He flipped the bathroom light on, started the shower, then glanced in the mirror and saw Tabitha’s reflection as she stood in the doorway.

She stepped into the room. “Is it okay if I help you?”

Her patience and kindness almost did him in. He nodded and she knelt before him, pulling his sweatpants down his legs. Let him set his hands on her shoulders, using her to keep himself steady as he stepped out of them.

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