Page 145 of The Perfect Love

She lost her husband and the father of her child along with any future she thought they’d have. But still, I think Liz would say the same of Trevor. She would’ve taken it on, so he didn’t have to.

“I know you would, but you don’t have to martyr yourself to take care of everyone else. You deserve that protection and safety too. Stop trying to face the world alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

His swollen eyes find mine.

“No, you’re not.” I kiss his forehead. “Never.”

He buries his face in my neck again. “Please don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me.”

Tears stream down my face as I kiss his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours and you’re mine. I’m here.”

He nods against my chest, arms still wrapped tightly around me.

“I love you,” I whisper into his hair.

He’s quiet, then the last words I hear him say before his sobs subside and he drifts off to sleep are, “I love you too.”

Trevor

I wake up with a headache from hell and my body aching like I got hit by a bus.

I stretch and sit up, finding the bed next to me empty. On my bedside table is a glass of water, ibuprofen, and a note.

Take the ibuprofen. Drink ALL that water.

Then come downstairs and find me.

-Chels

No surprise, my amazing girl is taking care of me.

Letting my guard down and my vulnerability out so she can care for me was hard, but I’m so glad I did it. So glad I let myself have that safe space.

I needed it last night. I’m going to continue needing it.

Running a hand through my hair, I grab the water, then the meds. I swallow them down, then chug the whole glass.

I hit some kind of bottom yesterday. Whether it was when I saw Hyla on her bathroom floor, at the hospital, or once I was in bed with Chelsea last night, I’m not sure. But it happened. The last time I felt that emotionally fucked up?

After my dad died. I was close after my accident, but I had so much physical healing to do that I set my focus on that. Which might have done me a disservice in the long run.

I love that I can rely on Chelsea—that she’ll hold me while I break. But the way I broke down twice yesterday—or even acouple of months ago on the anniversary of my dad’s death—was extreme. And maybe a sign that I need to take care of my mental health.

Hyla didn’t. I don’t ever want to end up feeling that hopeless or broken.

With a deep breath, I climb out of bed and grab my phone. There’s a text from my mom that reads:Starting the next step off the right way. There’s also a picture of her and Hyla drinking coffee from a local coffee place and eating cinnamon rolls. Of course. That’s Rae and Sarah’s mom’s specialty. I bet they delivered them early this morning.

I blink at the clock, which tells me it’s past ten, which seems impossible, but a good night’s sleep was also needed.

I stretch my back, rubbing at my sore muscles, then head downstairs, where I find Chelsea in the kitchen, cooking.

“Hi.” My voice comes out like I’ve smoked a pack a day for the last forty years.

She spins and smiles, a spatula in her hand. “Morning, babe.”

I stroll over and wrap my arms around her waist. “Pancakes?”

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