Page 43 of Spinning Out Of Control

“I’m unfair? What about me is unfair?”

“This!” I say, gesturing between us. “All of this is unfair! You’re a grown man in pajamas. You should be giving me the ick, but you look sexy as hell. And those glasses? I didn’t even know you wore glasses and here you are in your slutty little pajamas with your slutty little frames on your slutty little face. You are so hot, Ren. It fucking pisses me off!”

His brow furrows, but amusement paints his features as he presses his tongue into his cheek.

“You called me Ren.”

“What? No I didn’t.”

“You did, just now. And earlier, too. I’ve been reliving that moment in my head all evening. And you think I look sexy in my…slutty, did you say? You find my slutty glasses and my slutty pajamas sexy. You like me, Kira McKenna.”

“I do not.” I scoff.

“I think you do. You don’t have to admit it to yourself, but you can admit it to me. My little pest has a crush on me.”

He bumps my shoulder, and the light contact has me barreling towards the edge of losing my control.

Goddammit. Emotion swells in my chest. My eyes burn. He’s just teasing me, I know that. He’s being light and playful and that causes the weight of everything I’ve been carrying to come crashing down on my shoulders. Everything I’ve been holding back comes bubbling up. This can’t be happening. I don’t do this. I don’t show weakness. I don’t cry in front of people.

Except I am. The dam bursts. Tears I’ve been holding back for what feels like years begin to spill. Salt streams out of my eyes as I drop my head, burying my face into my palms while a broken sob works its way out of my throat.

“Oh, God, Kira darling, please don’t cry. I was only teasing.” Warren’s apology only makes me cry harder, my eyes and nose leaking all over my clammy palms. I feel him move, shuffling to put his arms around me. But it’s not close enough. I shift, crawling into his lap like a pathetic, needy child and burying my face against his chest. I don’t have it in me to be ashamed, not when I’m too desperate to be held.

Warren cuddles me close, running a hand over my hair and whispering soft apologies against my skin while I cry.

I cry for everything I’ve been through. I cry for the loss of the opportunity I was sure was mine. I cry for the years of hard work and biding my time that went unnoticed. I cry for the conflicting joy and loneliness of my friends finding love without me. I cry for the suffering and heartache I felt when I was sure I’d been betrayed by another man I’d given my body to.

I even cry for Becky the Pilates girlie. I hope she runs far, far away from Jonathan and is smarter than I was when it comes to who she shares her dreams with. And I cry for the strength and resilience I feel within myself, where even on my darkest days, I do my best to be a good friend, a good daughter, a good role model.

“It’s alright, love. Let it all out. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

I cry for what feels like hours. I cry so long that Warren has picked us up and moved us to the back of the bed so that he can rest his head on the headboard while cradling me against his chest. By the time my eyes dry up and breathing slowly regulates, his shirt is completely soaked through and the skin around my nose has already begun to chafe.

“Fuck,” I say on a choked, humorless laugh. I immediately wince as my stomach contracts. Apparently, crying your eyes out for long enough is tougher on the body than any core class I’ve ever programmed.

“I am so sorry, Kira. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never, ever meant to make you cry,” Warren says, burying his nose into my hair. I can feel the unsteady beat of his heart slamming against his chest, and it makes me ache.

“It wasn’t you. I mean, it was, but it wasn’t. I’ve got the spins.”

“The spins? Have you been drinking? Should I get a waste bin?”

“No, not the drinking spins. The brain spins. I’m just–” I sigh, burying my face into the tear-soaked spot on his chest because I can’t bear to look at him when I say this. “I’m just so fucking tired. I’m tired of feeling like I’m running as fast as I can and getting nowhere because my achievements go unnoticed, and my opportunities are taken from me. I’m tired of climbing allthese mountains without a partner to have my back. I’m tired of being positive and peppy and funny when all I feel like doing is falling apart. And honestly, Ren? I’m tired of trying so hard to hate you. Even when you’re staying stupid shit or judging my fish son, or just being your usual pain-in-my-ass self, you make it impossible. Hating you is so fucking hard, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

There. I said it, it’s out there. No taking it back now. Warren shifts beneath me, manipulating our bodies so that he can take my chin between his thumb and his forefinger and lift my eyes up to his.

“That is…a lot for one person to deal with.”

“It is,” I sigh. “I’m exhausted. And…and I’m lonely.”

“I’m lonely too, Kira,” he admits on an exhale.

We look at each other for a long moment, and I get lost in the sea of his ocean blue eyes. They’re soft and glossy, a shade of blue I don’t think I’ve ever seen before that I could easily drown in.

“Stay here with me tonight.”

I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off.

“Not for sex. I’m not being cheeky. Stay here with me so that I can hold you. So that I can make sure you rest. You’re carrying around so much Kira. Let me carry you for a bit. I can be so strong for you if you give me the chance to try.” His blue eyes flit back and forth between mine, waiting.

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