Page 38 of Four Times Taken

"Paying you back for that painting of me. I look beautiful." He gushed before removing my yellow thong sandal and kissing the bottom of my feet. My grin fell away, making way for yet another open-mouthed sigh as his thumb pressed into the bottom arch.

"Eric. Oh my..." My words trailed off as the paintbrush almost fell from my fingers.

"Uh-uh-uh," he reprimanded. "Keep painting. I want to hang that up wherever I end up calling home." He moved on to the next foot.

A slight knot formed in my stomach, and my smile grew weary. "So, you don't plan on staying in Durham long term?" I cleared my throat.

He took a breath, his hands slowing as he massaged my foot, aware that he had let something slip that he might not have wanted to.

"You haven't thought about traveling?" he asked, instead of answering the question.

"You know that's out of the question..." I protested, almost dropping my brush at the mood change. He spotted my disinterest in looking at either of his faces, the one staring up at me from the ground and the one looking back at me from the canvas.

Of course, this was just a trial run. If we didn't work out, he'd skip town. It was almost like an exam, where I had to try my best to keep him here, to make this work. It was no longer fun. I should've seen this coming. I was only destined for short-term happiness. All of this the guys were coming together to do, it wasn't sustainable. They'd all grow bored eventually. They were free spirits.

And I was just stuck here. As always.

"Lily," he sighed, reaching for my hand and pulling me toward the blanket.

I rolled my eyes. "You've got to be kidding me." I glared at the soft, welcoming, creamy-white blanket, offering another short-lived moment of bliss.

Pulling my hand from his, I folded it against my breasts. His eyes moved up the length of my legs, almost catching a peek up my black and yellow oversized T-shirt dress. My hunger returned despite myself.

"Lie down with me." He nodded toward the blanket again, his lips turning up into a small yet comforting smile. Shaking my head, I sat on it. He lay back with his arm spread out behind me. Crooking his finger toward me, he murmured, "Come on. I won't bite. Not yet anyway."

Our short stare-off ended with me succumbing to his request.

"That's what I'm scared of. The 'not yet' part," I muttered, laying into him, my head against his shoulders as his arm came around me. The warmth of his body was welcoming against the soft, night breeze.

"You know you don't have to do this on your own anymore, right?" he started, his voice vibrating through me, the mix of his cologne doing wild things to my body.

"Yeah, for now. Maybe. Until you guys realize that this isn't some fairytale or a one-off charity case you can throw money at with a few hours of voluntary labor and walk away from after, without another thought," I said.

"Ouch," he responded. "Well, you've always said what's on your mind."

A part of me crumpled at that. That was too harsh. But it was how I felt.

"For the record, I don't think it's impossible for you to travel with us on our adventures. Or for you to have adventures of your own. As I said, you don't have to do this on your own anymore. We could hire a nurse."

My heart flipped at that, but I shut down the thought. I couldn't let myself imagine anything beyond what I knew. Before today, the thought of paying someone else to look after her had only been a far-off dream I didn't see coming true. I'd accepted dedicating my entire life to taking care of my mother. Now, he's offering me something that could be stripped away in the blink of an eye if I dream too hard.

"Yeah. Maybe," I conceded, not wanting to prolong the conversation any longer, and set myself up for something that had the possibility to not pan out when the novelty of this reunion inevitably wore off. There's silence between us for a while. The tightness in my chest pulled me away from the warm nook of his embrace. We both lay on our backs, staring up at the sky.

"So, you want to fill me in on what led you to take drugs?" he asked the question point blank.

I answered it without turning my eyes away from the few twinkling stars and the trance they induced, allowing the words to flow from my lips without worry.

"Marco." I sighed. The expansive sky reminded me that like a star, I'm nothing but a dot in this vast universe. Lying beneath something that should crush me under its weight yet manages to hold itself up turned me weightless. "He took drugs," I filled him in. "It messed with his head and when he didn't have it. He took his frustrations out on me. Just like my mom, I became a victim to his abuse."

The coolness of a tear trickling down the side of my face was the sole indication that I'm crying. Eric listened to the whole shebang from beginning to end in silence. For a moment, I forgot he's even there until the pads of his fingers indented my cheek and pulled my face toward him. I looked up into the reddened eyes, the veins against his sclera like crackling fire. But he didn't shed a tear. He didn't tell me how much 'he'd kill him if he got the chance;' even if I could see the rage in his eyes. Because he knew me.

Instead, choked up, he rested his forehead against mine, his fingers pressed into my scalp and said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left."

You know what? Those words meant something, and they undid a lot of damage, but not in the way I thought they would. A literal breakthrough took apart the resentment I used to have, bit by bit, until clarity formed a whole new thought.

"It's not your fault." I brushed my nose against his, surprising myself.

All this time, I blamed him for leaving. I'd only fallen for Marco because I was looking for his replacement. But none of it was his fault. Of course it wasn't. How could I have been so dumb? All this time wasted blaming him for something he had no part in, just because I was angry he left.

---