Page 110 of Old Acquaintances

My eyes itch. My lips wiggle, fighting back more tears, and I march back to my bedroom. I hit the light, bathing him in darkness. In the quiet, I take my clothes off and change into pajamas. I brush my teeth and stare at my scars in the mirror: above my eyebrow, under my jawbone, on my collarbone.

I broke my arm and suffered a compound fracture in my leg. I had so many cuts from the shattered windshield and the impact to my head that I’d almost died from blood loss. The way my mother described it, that he was covered in my blood, I imagine a horrific scene. I don’t know how I would react to finding someone like that.

Someone I loved.

I look at my face, clean and tan, and think of how Tucker held my cheeks the night I came to him for sex. I feel his forehead pressed to mine when I agreed to a date. I hear his loving, specific words when he fake-proposed to me and the sweet way he kissed me when he wanted a final ending to our day.

I once dated this asshole of a guy sophomore year in college. He was in the music program. One time, he pushed me into my car door when I confronted him kissing another girl at a concert and he thought it was no big deal. I wouldn’t talk to him anymore, but he didn’t leave me alone. I told Johnny about it, and the next day Tucker showed up at my dorm.

“Where’s this guy?” he demanded.

I assured him that I had ended it and he had finally left me alone.

Tucker checked my face, made me turn around for him, then grabbed my hands and held them, saying, “Don’t be with anyone who puts their hands on you, ever. Okay?”

I promised I was fine, that I knew my boundaries. He breathed heavily and kissed my right palm. He then dropped my hands and walked down the hallway. He had just driven four hours from Clemson.

“Tucker!” I ran after him, expecting him to stay the night, but he walked back in his truck, saying he needed to go back.

“You drove eight hours just to tell me that?” I grabbed his arm.

“I had to see you for myself.” He looked at me one last time. “You’re okay?”

I nodded and he left.

I fold my hand, closing the spot where he kissed me, and walk out of the bedroom. He doesn’t hear me coming, my sock-covered feet are quiet.

Laying on his back, eyes steady on a crimson lamp, he finally notices me approach. He huffs, “Ella, I told you –”

“Shh.” I sit by his feet. He’s surprised when I lay on my side beside him. He turns to me, and I press my face into his chest. “At least let me havethis. Please.”

“What’s this?” he whispers.

“I just want to be with you.” I put my hands between us, up to my chin, and scoot higher so our heads are aligned. His feet hang off the couch. “Put your arm around me,” I say.

After a moment of reluctance, he snakes his arm around my back until I’m resting on his bicep. His hand curls around my shoulder. “Like this?”

“The other one, too.”

He wraps me up until we’re cocooned together on this small couch. I snuggle my face into his neck and press my legs into his. After a quiet moment, Tucker relaxes and begins running his hands down my back and sides, in my hair.

I pretend I’m on that hospital bed, floating from pain medication, listening to Gracie complain about something that happened at her wedding and my mom asking the nurse about the temperature in the room. I try to pull snippets from the accident, but there’s nothing.

I imagine that, in the midst of a white haze, Tucker comes into the room. He lays beside me like he’s doing now, and he holds me to him. He breathes into my ear. His lips dance on my hairline. He pulls me tighter every second, just like I want him to. I can’t float away if he’s holding me steady.

“You can’t sleep here,” he mutters. His nose tickles the side of my face. “You’ll get cold.”

“Not like this.”

“You’re not going to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable.”

I think about what my mom said:This is why you were brought together, so that he could save your life.

I knew the pain, but not the worry. I didn’t fear for my life. I don’t know what it’s like to have someone you care about become endangered. Tucker’s the one who had to shoulder that burden.

I press a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you.”

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