Page 146 of Bad Blood

Echoes of Silence

Dax

Saturday, June 10 th

7:32 a.m.

I want to be someone who doesn’t give a fuck.

But I’m not.

I give too many fucks. And all of them have everything to do with the sleeping beauty lying next to me. Her reaction to what happened last night replays in my mind. I ache to reach out and brush the hair from her face, but I don’t want to wake her.

After waking with a kink in my neck, I scooped her up and carried her onto the sofa, settling behind her, just in case. I didn’t want her to wake up and think I broke my promise. There’s not much room, and my left arm is asleep, but this is better than the entry. I open and close my fist, trying to get the tingling sensation to go away as her chest lifts and falls in a steady rhythm.

Her eyelids twitch, and her bottom lip starts to quiver. I’m finding it harder and harder not to touch her. I want to comfort her, but I don’t know if she’ll let me.

“You are the best thing I’ve ever waited for,” I whisper, knowing I’m only strong enough to speak my mind when she’s asleep and can’t hear me. I let the urge to brush her hair off her face take over. When my fingers graze her cheek, she starts to stir.

I close my eyes and try to temper my breathing, so she doesn’t know I’m awake.

She re-situates herself and rolls out from under the weight of my arm. Her fingers trace across my hand, causing the hairs to stand on end. The urge to open my eyes to see if she’s staring at me is almost too much, but I don’t let myself cave.

There’s a rustling as she slips out from under my arm and stands. Hesitant footsteps pad across the floor and disappear as she makes her way down the hall, closing a door. I sit and peek out of the living room, searching in the direction where she disappeared. A thud hits something down the hall, and I’m on my feet and standing outside the closed door within seconds. I lift my hand to knock, but the sound of what I assume to be her slides down from the other side. Muffled sobs fill my ears.

I picture her slumped on the floor, head in her hands, crying. I need to hold her, but the fact that she left my side and hid behind the door proves she needs time alone. The idea of her wanting to deal with this without me makes sense, and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.

Her sobs lessen into sniffles and dissipate until there’s no sound. It’s quiet from inside the room for what feels like an eternity. And I can’t take it anymore.

I roll my knuckles across the door, the cautious sound echoing through the space.

“Just a minute,” she says as she scrapes herself off the floor, flushes the toilet, and turns on the sink.

I creep to the stairs, settling on the bottom step to wait.

“Hey,” she says, her voice hoarse. Her eyes are bloodshot, but she gives me a reticent cautious smile as she sits beside me on the step, dropping her chin into her palm. “How’d you sleep?”

She doesn’t mention what happened in the bathroom or how she woke in my arms. And I oblige. I don’t want to make things awkward. It’s too bad the silence between us doesn’t get the memo.

“Best sleep of my life.” I clear my throat and crack my neck. I brush a hand against her arm, blurring the hypothetical line I’m not supposed to cross. A pale glow sweeps over her cheeks, and I grin. I drop my chin to rest on her shoulder and peck her forehead.

“You hungry?” she asks as she stands, creating some space between us, and I get a shy smile.

“Starving.” I pull out my phone to place an order and am reminded of the texts I got while she was in the bathroom.

Liam: Where are you? Are you alive?

I send a singular reply:

Me: I can explain everything

“Shit,” she mutters, darting to her feet. “You stayed here.”

“You asked me not to leave,” I say, setting the phone beside me on the step.

“Oh, my god.” She shakes her head, her hair whipping around her face. Her voice quivers as she glances over her shoulder at her front door.

I stand and stretch, and she turns to face me. Her eyes dart to the skin peeking from under my T-shirt.

---