Page 38 of And Then Came You

She’s trying to relax me. Make it better. It’s not working.

I invent an excuse about light sensitivity once we get to the house and crash on the bed in my room. But I’m not there five minutes when the urge to walk down the hall gets the best of me.

After a gentle knock, I crack open the door. Lexi sits perched on the bed, laptop by her side and about a million papers strewn around her. Her dark hair is pulled up into a bun and fastened with pencils, her glasses covering those huge amber eyes.

The woman is the antithesis of high fashion.

Doesn’t stop her from being adorable, however.

“You’re back early.”

I settle on the edge of her bed, careful not to mess with her spread. Lord, the woman has enough documents to open her own library. “I wasn’t feeling the club tonight. Or any night, lately.”

As always, Lexi sees past my blasé answer. She places the laptop aside and gathers up the papers, sliding them into a binder. “You want to talk about it?”

Just like that, she gives me her undivided attention. I’ve never had that before with a woman. I’ve had women drooling over me, but not caring about my emotional and mental well-being.

Yet another reason Lexi is in a class by herself.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

Lexi motions to my arm, pulling it to her for a closer look. “When did you get the new ink?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“What’s the significance?”

I can make up some bullshit excuse, but I got it because the needle jabbing my skin was one of the first things I felt since my Granddad died. “I needed to feel.”

She rises on her knees, crossing the bed to my side and taking my face in her hands. “Can you feel that?”

Closing my eyes, I nod. By her side is the only time I can feel, and I don’t know what that means.

“No matter how lonely you get, you are never alone so long as I live. It doesn’t matter if we talk every day or once every decade. I’m always here for you.” She smacks at the fresh ink, huffing out her disgust. “Don’t mar up your body in an attempt to disguise the pain. The pain will be there, regardless.”

I feel the emotions backing up on me, just like that day in the orchard. That Lexi truly sees me and isn’t disgusted by the view is an overwhelming feeling. “I’m so lost.”

“It’s normal.”

“Is it?”

She nods, her slight fingers running along my scalp, as sparks flood my body from her proximity.

From her touch.

“When my mother died, I was so angry that I broke an antique mirror that hung in the hall. But that wasn’t good enough. It didn’t soothe the ache. So, I grabbed one of the larger shards and cut myself. Not enough to need stitches, but enough to scar.” Lexi pulls up her sweats, showing me the thin scar on her thigh, barely discernible against her ivory skin. “All it did was ease the emotional hurt for that moment. Divert it somewhere else. It didn’t cure it. I had to walk the path of grief and feel every single emotion, whether or not I wanted to. There’s no shortcut through hell, but there are friends who will escort you.”

Reaching out, my fingers graze along the length of the scar, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Somehow, the idea that we both scarred ourselves to release the pain only makes me love her more.

She gets me. She sees me.

“I always feel better around you.”

“That’s because I’m magic, Sam. You know that.” Her smile. It’s brighter than the sun, and the grandest thing I’ve seen in years.

“You are, indeed. How’s your book coming along? Before I interrupted your flow, obviously.”

She giggles, huffing out a sigh. “It’s practically writing itself. I thought being here would break my concentration, but it seems you’re a great muse.”

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