Page 129 of Brazen Mistakes

On the other side of his bed, he digs through his drawers, eventually pulling out a sweater. Once he’s dressed, he drags both of his hands through his hair, but he doesn’t turn toward me.

He doesn’t say anything.

I don’t either.

I leave, and this time, he doesn’t stop me.

Safe. Wise. The right choice.

Right?

Chapter 46

RJ

By the time we get home, I know I’ve stayed quiet for too long. Clara’s holding my hand, but the tension in her grip has been building the longer I’ve stayed silent.

There aren’t words for right now, though. None worth saying.

None worth feeling.

She and Trips told me about my dad, and all I could do was nod.

It’s a good solution. Not perfect, but it’s something, which is more than the holey offense I’ve been running. And I appreciate the help. But even that’s too much to say right now.

I need to sleep in my own bed. For maybe a day.

Then I can process. But not now. There’s nothing left.

If I try, the only thing that’ll come out of my mouth is a scream.

So. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I can talk.

Jansen has the back door open the second we pull up behind the house, and while I know he means well, both he and Walker, when they pull me into whatever you call a man hug, it still makes my skin crawl. Too much.

I slip away from them, Clara trailing behind me, her hand sweaty.

Even her palm touching mine overwhelms me, but I don’t want to let go. It’s like she’s the tether for my balloon, and if I let go, I’ll just float away.

Once we’re alone in my room, I force myself to just breathe, eyes closed against the cold dawn breaking outside my window.

Clara pulls away to shut the blinds, throwing a blanket over them for good measure. Once it’s dark, I scramble for my shower kit, needing to stand under the running water until my skin feels like my own. Once I have it in hand, I croak out a simple “Stay,” and if it comes out as more of a command than a request, well, at least I said something.

The hot water is exactly what I needed, the lights shut off, my shower cap tight around my skull. Everything is too much right now.

Instead of thinking I just breathe, leaning against the wall as the water sluices over my back. I breathe and hope that my body won’t feel foreign to me for much longer.

I breathe until the water turns cold and the sun is bright enough that the faded light in the bathroom feels blinding.

Avoiding the mirror, I dry off, both hoping and dreading what I’ll find in my room. Did she stay? Did I want her to? Would it be better to be alone right now?

Cracking the door open, a clean, dark room greets me, Clara sitting cross-legged on my chair, her phone in her lap. She looks up, and in the dark, I can’t guess her emotions, and I don’t want to. I want to sleep. And I want her here.

Please stay quiet.

I pull on my most comfortable pajama pants and my softest t-shirt, and even they feel scratchy against my skin. I do the barest necessary to keep my braids from turning into puffballs, wrap my head, then crawl under the blanket, holding it open to Clara.

She strips down to just a t-shirt and panties, then joins me. I position her so her back is to my front, our skin only barely touching. Grounding, not overwhelming.

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