Page 100 of Tamed By You

A firm hand touches my back, rubbing soothing circles, and a familiar voice tells me I’m okay.

He’s here.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and drag my body up the bed to a seating position, turning to face him.

He looks exhausted. Dark circles surround his beautiful dark blue eyes and there’s an emptiness in them, an emptiness I am all too familiar with.

He reaches over to the nightstand on his side of my bed and hands me a glass of water. I gulp it down like I haven’t drank in days, only now noting how sore and dry my throat is.

“Small sips, baby,” he whispers, and the name is like a punch in my already delicate stomach.

I have missed his voice. Missed everything about him.

I hand him back the glass and he places it back down. I stare at him, willing myself to speak, but I don’t. A somewhat comfortable silence falls between us, and for a moment, I allow myself to get lost in his gaze. His hand rises to cup my cheek and I instinctively lean into it, loving the way the warmth of his palm feels against my cold cheek. He moves closer, pressing his forehead to mine and inhaling his spicy scent. The smell comforting me, getting rid of the nausea I experienced moments ago.

“You scared me.” His words are barely there, but I heard them. I pull back out of his embrace, the moment gone, likely lost forever.

“What do you mean? Why are you here?” It sounds more standoffish than I intended but I need it to in order to protect both of us.

I get up off the bed, wanting to put some distance between us. Dizziness falters my steps and I lean against the metal bed frame to steady myself.

“Ali, sit down,” he says as he leaps off the bed and rounds it standing before me. I step back, shaking my head, hands raised in surrender.

“No. Please, just don’t touch me.”

My words must cut him deep. His face falls and I fight the urge to wrap my arms around him and tell him I’m sorry. But I need him to stay away.

“Ali, no, you don’t get to do what you did last night, then push me away. I am not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Last night?

“What are you talking about? I had a few drinks. Let’s not get dramatic.” Irritation is in my voice.

“Just a few drinks? What about these, Ali?” He holds an empty pill pot in front of my face, his eyes widening in anger and his hand shaking.

“I…” I can’t speak.

“Why? Why would you take them? I found you face down on that bed. Lifeless.” He points to the bed. I look over to the crumpled sheets, close my eyes, and wince. That nausea hitting me again.

I remember now. I just needed to sleep, needed it all to be quiet, just for a minute.

He throws the pot on the ground and swipes a frustrated hand over his face. “Drugs, Ali, why? Again. What are you doing? Don’t give me the bullshit story. I know there’s something. There’s a reason you are fighting me. Tell me. Help me understand. Let me in,” he pleads.

“I can’t,” I whisper. My body is rigid. With every word he says I tighten my fists, digging my nails into my palms, welcoming the sting of pain.

He takes a step closer, and I take a step back, my back almost hitting the wall. He keeps a small amount of distance, and I am thankful for it because if he touched me right now, I’d cave.

“I took your lifeless body and held you, I thought… I thought I’d lost you, Ali. I… fuck,” he shouts.

I close my eyes and tears tumble silently down my cheeks. It is killing me to see him so hurt.

“Tell me, Ali, tell me now,” he shouts.

I shake my head.

“I’m not asking you. I am telling you. You need to tell me. Help me understand.”

“No.” My words are shaky but they’re there.

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