Page 8 of Finding Home with You

The headlights flash across the porch as Erin pulls into her driveway. I’ve been waiting here for nearly thirty minutes now, getting increasingly annoyed at how long it’s taking her to get home. I’d expected her to be here waiting for me like she normally is, but she wasn’t. And even though I know she keeps a spare key under her mat, despite me telling her a millions times not to, this time I haven’t used it. I’m not sure why, but there was something about her last text message that has me wary.

I watch as she gets out of the car, not looking at me as she walks around to the trunk and pulls out a couple of grocery bags. I stand, ready to help her, but she manages them, locking her car before she walks toward me. I smile, but she doesn’t even look at me, walking straight up the steps and past me to the door.

“Hey,” I say as she jams her key into the front door, one of the bags slipping from her arms as she does.

“Fuck,” she mutters as a bag of flour falls onto the porch.

“Babe,” I say, grabbing the bags from her hands. “Give me these.”

Erin shoves a few of them into my hands, still not looking at me as she finally gets the front door open. I follow her in, wondering what the hell’s going on. When she reaches the kitchen, she dumps the bags on the counter before going to the fridge and grabbing herself a beer. She doesn’t get me one and she still hasn’t looked at me.

“Erin,” I say, putting the bags I’m carrying down on the kitchen table. “What’s going on?” I ask as I step toward her and pull her into my arms.

She stands rigid in my embrace, not moving and not saying anything as she all but mainlines the beer in her hands. I press a kiss to her hair, feel her stiffen before she pulls away and starts to unpack the groceries.

“Erin,” I repeat, my voice firm this time.

I watch as she lets out a long breath before turning to face me. “What?” she says, finally meeting my eyes.

To say she looks pissed off would be an understatement and I can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell is going on right now. “What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping closer. I cup her face in my hand and brush a thumb across her cheekbone.

I watch as she closes her eyes briefly. “Nothing,” she says, opening them as she pulls away.

“Bullshit,” I respond, grabbing her wrist. “Talk to me.”

“Don’t, Ryan,” she says, pulling her arm from my grip. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Not in the mood for what?” I ask, stepping closer.

“This,” she says, waving a hand around as she turns back and starts to unpack the groceries.

I step closer, crowding her against the counter. “Babe,” I whisper, brushing my lips against the back of her neck. “Just stop for a second. Talk to me.” Erin stills, her back to me. I feel her take a deep breath, which she slowly lets out before she turns to face me. I press a quick kiss to her lips when she does, murmuring, “God I’ve missed you.”

Erin slams her hands on my chest now. “Missed me?” she yells. “Or missed getting laid? God, Ryan,” she continues. “You’re so fucking predictable.”

My hands encircle her wrists now, holding her against me. “What the fuck is going on here, Erin?” I say, not letting her go.

“For the thousandth time, nothing,” she says.

“Bull. Shit.” I reply, ducking my head so I can meet her eyes. “And just so you know, I have missed you. You, Erin. You.”

She stares up me, swallowing hard. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was trying hard not to cry, and there’s something about her sudden vulnerability that throws me. I’ve never seen her like this. Gone is the feisty little minx that loves to push my buttons and in its place is a woman who looks exhausted, defeated, and maybe a little bit scared. It freaks me out, a ripple of fear washing through me.

“Baby,” I whisper, letting go of her wrists as I slide my arms around her waist and pull her closer. “I really don’t know what’s going here,” I say, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But I want to know. I want you to talk to me, please.”

Erin takes another deep breath before finally giving in. I feel her body relax against mine as her arms slide around my waist, her fingers digging into my back as though she doesn’t want to let go. I slowly run my hand up and down her spine, my fingers running over the bumps. Neither of us speaks and I get the feeling this is what she needs right now, that whatever it is that’s going on with her, she doesn’t want anything except to be held. To feel safe and cared for.

I don’t know how long we stand here for, but eventually I pull back a little. Erin looks up at me, her eyes a mix of sadness and fear and need. The first two scare me, because I have no idea what it is that’s making her feel this way, but the other one doesn’t. Because whatever it is that Erin needs, I’m here to give it her. Without question, I’m here for her.

I smile at her before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. She doesn’t resist this time; a soft moan falling from her mouth as she finally kisses me back.

“Ryan,” she murmurs, falling against me.

“Come with me,” I whisper against her mouth. I lead her down to the bathroom, wordlessly stripping off our clothes before pulling her into the shower. I grab the soap and work it into a lather before moving my hands over her shoulders, gently pushing my fingers into the knots I can feel beneath the skin.

“God, that feels good,” she says, her head falling forward, her hands on the tiles supporting her weight.

I kiss the back of her neck as my fingers dig in, loosening her muscles. Erin sags against the wall as I move my hands lower, massaging her arms and then working my way down her legs, focusing on her calves and thighs.

---