Page 54 of Implode

“Good?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I pull out of the parking lot and drive in a silence so deafening that my inner thoughts are screaming at me to say something to break it. I settle a hand on Claire’s blanket-covered thigh and watch as she cries even more, all while sipping her warm beverage. What the hell? Everything I am doing is causing her to break down. I feel helpless.

“You can just take me to my place,” Claire says slowly, when she realizes I passed her street.

“No. And I won’t bend on this. You are coming back with me. I’m a selfish man, Claire, but I will respect your boundaries. Promise. I just need you to be safely in my space or I won’t be able to function.”

I glance over at her as she slinks down farther into the seat. It is like she is giving up, and her defeat doesn’t feel like a victory at all. I want her whole again. I want her snappy comments to bite and tempt me. I want her spirit back.

This version of Claire makes me anxious, and seeing her this way makes me want to make all of her pain go away. My girl is hurting, and my mind is racing at how I can help her.

I pull the car into the parking garage and find my numbered space. I cut the engine and jog over to the passenger side to help Claire out.

“I’m sorry.”

I look at her with confusion. “Sorry? For what?”

She glances away as more tears fall down her cheeks. I stop a few with my thumbs and then cup her face in my hands. I kiss her forehead.

“I’m sorry”—she pauses and clears her throat—“for being so needy.”

“Oh, baby girl,” I say, pulling back so she can see my eyes. “You never have to be sorry for anything out of your control. Let’s get you inside and you can decide whether or not you want to talk about what happened in Virginia.” I silently pray she will talk though. I can’t help her if I don’t know what she went through while there. If someone touched her, I will go there myself and break them.

What the fuck happened to her?

I sense relief in her eyes. Maybe having the permission to talk or not talk is what she needs to feel comfortable. I want Claire to let her walls down, but I can’t force her to let me inside her world. She has to be willing and open to the possibility that I can change.

I have changed.

I am still changing.

Some women think that a man is incapable of change, and that just isn’t true. It just takes an amazing woman to show him how big of an ass he’s been. And I’ve been the biggest.

I will forever regret how I helped to facilitate Claire’s abuse with her ex-boyfriend. Sure, my intentions were noble in that I knew Ethan was horrible for her. I knew that she would have stayed with the bastard unless he did something monumental to help her see the light. However, my intentions were also nefarious because my ultimate goal was to lure her away from him, just to be with me in the physical sense.

Except nothing has ever been just physical with Claire.

It was impossible for me not to fall for her—and fall hard. She brings out a nurturing side to me that I buried under years of hatred for women who cheat. I tried to control every woman I ever slept with post-Tara by making them into the villain, when in reality I only set myself up for the emptiness I thought I craved.

I wanted no-strings-attached, but in return found Claire. She makes me want to give her the world, tie every string around the gift that she is to me, and never let her go.

If me going to therapy helps to achieve my end goal, then so be it. I’ll submit myself to Dr. Zimmerman’s probing questions if it brings me closer to Claire.

I won’t let her go.

She is mine. She just has to accept that fact.

I leave Claire’s bags inside the car. I have whatever she needs at my place, and I don’t want any bad memory from her trip to taint her growth when she finally shares what happened. I am trying to be patient. I just need her to open up to me.

As soon as we get off the elevator and into the foyer, I help Claire out of her shoes and hoodie. They are so dusty and dirty that I just toss them onto the floor in a pile, with the plan to get them into the wash or simply buy her new ones. I lead her into my master bedroom and watch as her feet start to move like they weigh a ton.

“Trust me to take care of you,” I say soothingly. “I’m going to give you some privacy, but I want to draw you a bath and get you something warm to eat. Does that sound okay?”

Claire nods and fidgets with her fingernails. “I’m so hungry.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

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