Page 60 of Dangerously Tempting

We cradle her between us as she comes back to herself, slowly fluttering her eyes open to look at us. Kat starts sobbing as nurses rush in and start checking Amelia over. This moment is so surreal that I’m still not fully convinced I’m not really dreaming.

I don’t even bother to wipe away the tears streaming from my eyes. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see those beautiful eyes open again, so I’m sure as fuck not going to shy away from them now that they’ve opened.

We’re all a teary mess, clinging to each other as nurses bustle around us and check all her vitals. She doesn’t even look at any of them, her eyes on Kat and me alone. It’s like she was waiting for us too, somehow, and feels exactly how we do about seeing her again.

Playlist: "Mercy," Hurts

When things finally settle down, Kat slips out to give us some time alone together. We haven’t really had much time to talk with everyone hovering around since she woke up, but enough to know that she remembers everything that happened.

That seems both good and bad, somehow. I would love to take that away for her, but at least she knows why she’s here and isn’t panicking over it. She knows who we are, and that’s the most important part of this.

The drawback is that she does remember everything. She remembers exactly why she’s here, exactly who is to blame for this, and exactly who is the cause. Something tells me that’s why, even though she has allowed me to hold her hand since she woke up, her grip back is nearly non-existent.

It has been like a dagger straight through my heart this whole time because I know what it means. I don’t need to hear her words. The sadness in her eyes says all that I need to hear. I only hope that my eyes speak just as loudly.

“Jameson,” she starts, her voice rough and scratchy. I can only imagine how badly her throat is hurting so I squeeze her hand, stopping her.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“I do.” She shakes her head, a tear escaping her left eye to cascade down her cheek. My heart follows the same trajectory, feeling like it’s falling to my feet. “I don’t think I can ever feel safe being with you. Not while she’s still living.”

Her words hurt, but aren’t unexpected. I force myself to swallow around the lump in my throat and nod. “I understand.”

“She comes with being with you. I know that’s not what you want to hear, that it isn’t fair, but it’s the facts right now. I don’t want to feel like I need to look over my shoulder everywhere I go. I know she’s in jail, and I know she probably will be for a while, but I don’t want to constantly be thinking about when she might get free. I don’t want to always be worrying that she’s going to come back and try again. I can’t live my life like that. I won’t.”

“I don’t expect you to. Whatever you need from me is what I will do. Nothing matters to me more than you feeling safe and happy. You’re all that matters to me.”

Her lip wobbles, and I can tell that she wants to take the words back, but I won’t let her. Because she’s right. There’s no telling when this will end. Tori clearly isn’t one to give up, so even being in jail isn’t enough for me to think that she’ll give up.

She nods, and I let her hand go. It hurts too much to keep holding it when I know all she wants is to pull it away. It feels like losing a physical piece of myself and it takes everything in me to let my tears stream silently down my face instead of letting them come out violently, with begging and shouting, like they want to.

I don’t want to do anything to make her question her decision with guilt. That’s not right to her, or to me, and I won’t allow it. She’s sure, even if it’s just in this moment, that she can’t do this. That’s her reality and it’s not my place to try to dictate how she views things. Only she is capable of deciding on that, and even though it’s so fucking hard, I’m going to let her.

I’m going to let her because what I said was the truth. Her feeling safe and happy is all that matters to me. I’ll do this for her, even though it’s killing me.

I pause at the door, turning to look at her for what might be the very last time. “I’m so fucking sorry. This is never what I expected or what I wanted, but it doesn’t matter. Be safe. Be happy. And know that through it all, I love you.”

I don’t give her a chance to respond before I pass through the door. I don’t want her to feel like she has to say something, that she has to offer some sort of comfort.

Leaving her room is probably the hardest thing that I have ever had to do. I want to scream. I want to drop to my knees and beg her to reconsider. I want to cry out my agony for the whole world to hear. Instead, I take a step away from her door.

Then another.

And another, until my acceptance takes a bit of the load from my shoulders and I’m able to forge forward.

I know that I’m doing what’s right because this is what’s best for her. It may even be what’s best for us in the long run. I won’t be like Tori, but I won’t quit, either. I won’t give up on her. Not now.

Not a year from now.

Not 5 years from now.

Never. Because, it might not be enough for her at this moment, but I love her to the depths of my soul. I would do absolutely anything for this woman, and one day, she’s going to realize it. She’s going to see that all of this is just delaying the inevitable, and eventually run back into my arms.

And they’ll be open for her.

They’ll always be open for her.

Playlist: "Blurry," Puddle of Mudd

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