Page 71 of Creed

At least not consciously.

Fingers curl around the top of the blanket and pull down slowly to reveal a sweet face full of freckles and deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he whispers, a soft, playful smile on his face as he lays on his side, his head propped up on the palm of his hand.

“Hi,” I squeak back. It’s all I can force out before emotion squeezes my throat as I take in the butterfly bandaging on his cheek and under his eye. I don’t think the words come out when my eyes well with tears and I mouth the words, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Riley murmurs, scooting closer to run his fingers through my hair. “Please don’t cry.” He coos softly, his thumb swiping at a tear that leaks down the side of my face, catching it before it hits the pillow.

“Please don’t hate me,” the words are barely a croak as they pass my lips. I’ve never hated my voice more than I do right now because I can’t get the fucking words to an audible level with how bad I’m being choked with emotion.

Riley just shakes his head, the messy waves atop his head falling over his brow with the movement. “Whatever happened, I know you didn’t intend to hurt me. I promise I’m not mad at you, Snow.” A slow soft smile spreads over his face, his eyes never leaving mine. “I could never hate you. Please know that.”

I shake my head, but a second set of hands joins Riley’s in my hair and it gives me pause, my tense shoulders relaxing a fraction. “I’m. Not. Mad.” He says more slowly. “The only thing I am, is a little confused.”

I get it. I owe him and Creed an explanation. I hate talking about my life, my past, and my fucking issues that stemmed from the two, but I promised them honesty, so that’s what I’m going to give them. I push myself up to a sitting position, pulling the weighted blanket into my lap and letting the weight of it offer a little soothing support.

Creed and Riley follow suit and turn themselves so that they’re seated in front of me, facing me. I run my fingers poorly through my tangled hair before dropping them to my lap. Nervously plucking at a stray string on the blanket, I blow a breath out through puffed cheeks, and eye the men in front of me. Riley first, then Creed. “Where do I start?” I ask.

Creed contemplates for a moment before asking, “When did these… dissociative episodes start? I assume that’s what they are?”

I nod, swallowing. “I think that’s what they are, too. Luckily they didn’t start until after I left my last foster home. So, two years, maybe?” I shrug. Because of where I work, I don’t have health insurance and I could barely afford the tiny motel room where I was living, let alone pay out of pocket to see a doctor about my brain shutting down and either reliving some of my worst moments, or blanking out altogether. “I don’t know much about them except that they fucking suck when they happen.”

“Do you know what triggers an episode?” Creed asks, and I meet his eyes. His face is carefully blank, but I can hear the curiosity and concern.

I look down, plucking at the ends of my hair gathered in my fingertips, thinking about some of my past breakdowns and what happened prior. “A lot of the time it’s something little happening around me, or a familiar phrase or even smell that sets off the episode. At first, I just thought I was zoning out because I was awake, but it’s like my mind was sleeping. Awake, but unseeing and unhearing to my surroundings. Lately, they’re more like living dreams—or nightmares, is more like it. When my brain zones out, rather than having a blank moment, it’s like a memory happening all over again in real time.”

“And that’s what happened tonight.” It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.

“Was it something I said to you? Did I cause this?” Riley asks, and my head whips up to him, seeing his big brown eyes filled to the brim with worry.

“No,” I say quickly, without thought. “God, no, Riley. It wasn’t you.” I want to reach for him, to grab his hand or pat his knee or fucking something to reassure him, but seeing what I did to him earlier keeps my hands glued to my lap. “It was…”

When my words trail off, the silence that follows sounds louder than our conversation. Creed tenses and Riley shifts where he’s seated. I groan internally because I hate, absolutely fucking loathe dumping my problems onto other people. I don’t like causing others to worry about me. What I really want is a magic button that will make Creed and Riley forget that anything ever happened, that everything is fine, and to give them zero reasons to worry about me. Their happiness and peace of mind is more important than my problems.

“It was what?” The question comes out low and slow from Creed. His jaw ticks as he waits for me to finish my thought.

Shit. My ridiculous heart can’t handle the thought of Creed being upset with me. This shit’s unhealthy but I don’t see myself stopping the habit of wanting to please him anytime soon, so, c’est la vie.

As if he can read my thoughts, his face softens and he places his large, tattooed hand on my knee over the blanket and I can feel the heat of his palm even through all the fabric. I ignore the way the simple, platonic touch makes my core heat and my thighs clench.

“Collins, what happened, sweet girl? You promised us honesty. We can’t help you if you don’t open up to us.” He’s not berating me, but his tone leaves zero room for bullshit.

I roll my lips together, still not wanting to burden him with my bullshit, but a knowing smile tugs at his lips and he laughs quietly. Riley quirks a brow at him, so Creed turns to his best friend and says, “She thinks I don’t know her, but I do. Even after all these years.”

I open my mouth to tell him to eat shit because he has no idea who I’ve become but he plows on, ignoring the hole I’m currently glaring into the side of his skull. “From the moment she was born, she had one goal; to ensure that every single person around her was happy. To make sure there was no upset to the lives of those she loved.” His eyes find mine and the ice blue seems to glow impossibly brighter as he speaks. “You were the peacemaker. The natural little caretaker. Always putting others first, with little to no concern for yourself. As long as others were happy, you were happy. You’d been like that for as long as I can remember.” His hand finds mine and he sweeps his thumb over my knuckles, the rough calluses send goosebumps up my arm. He drops his head for only a moment and sighs before lifting his head again. “God, Collins, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through for the last decade, but despite all the ways you’ve had to adapt, I can see that special part of you still exists within you.

“I can see it by the way you’re trying to protect me and Riley by keeping your troubles to yourself. Your selflessness is one of the things I love about you,” My heart gallops and my brain stutters its thoughts over the fact that he just said he loves something about me. Probably completely innocent and platonic, but still. I know it’s only been a few days since our rather shocking reunion, and beyond that, the boundaries he’s set in place. I know Creed isn’t in love with me. But to hear that he loves something about me sets my soul alight. It’s been over ten years since I’ve heard someone say that they loved me. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear those words spoken. To me. Until now.

Creed’s hand leaves mine as he straightens once again pulling me from my thoughts when the cool air of his bedroom settles over my skin, leaving a chill where his warmth enveloped me just a second before. I fight the urge to slump my shoulders at the loss of contact. He continues, “but I don’t think anyone ever told you that you’re allowed to be selfish, Stardust. That you’re allowed to let go and lay your burdens down, to let someone else help you carry them.” He runs a hand through his already wild black tresses and gives me a pleading look, Riley’s own expression nearly matching, though he says nothing, letting Creed say what they’re both thinking. “Be fucking selfish. Tell us what’s going on.”

I notice that not once did either of them ask me what exactly I saw when I fell into that last dissociative episode. They didn’t pry. Their only focus—after patching Riley up—was to simply help me, not force me to relive that moment, again.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath. Be fucking selfish. Creed's voice bounces around in my mind.

Be selfish.

Lay your burdens down.

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