Page 39 of Just One Bite
I’m shaking till I attempt to settle onto his bed. Should I just sit on the floor? He’s likely annoyed. He should be. I think about going back seconds before the thunder grumbles again. I’m not afraid of much, not really. I’m not afraid of the dark. I almost drowned once as a child, but I’m not even afraid of water or swimming. I don’t mind snakes or spiders, but thunderstorms have always accompanied my worst nightmares as a kid, and that’s only been amplified in my mother’s absence.
“Do you need anything? Water?”
“No … I just can’t sleep like this.” I’m raw and open. It’s paralyzing.
“You’re afraid of the thunder.” His voice is gentle.
I nod. It’s embarrassing to be afraid of thunder and storms. It’s a child’s fear that my parents were confident I’d grow out of … until my mother died.
“Well, you’re safe. Here.” He turns to rummage in his drawer and pulls out some headphones to cover my ears.
“Thank you.” I place them firmly over my ears. The muffled noise is welcomed. It takes away the sting of the thunder. Parker’s room has no windows, so I’m safe from the lightning too. I stay sitting, content to sit up in his bed when he hooks me by my waist and hauls me into him.
We’re spooning, with his body hot against my back and his arm around my stomach. I’ve never been held like this before by anyone. He’s smothering me, but it’s not suffocating.
My mind races with thoughts of my childhood. When it stormed, my mom would lie in my bed or stay up with me. I’d sit in her lap, and we’d play with puzzles till the sun came up and the thunder died. Once she was gone, I’d wandered into my dad’s room during a storm, but he’d tell me to go back to my room.
I wish she was here. I wish I could call her.
“Better?” I can barely hear his muffled voice.
“Yes,” I say, letting my hips sink into him, and a singular tear falls to my cheek. It’s relief leaking from my eyes as the threat dissipates but also the familiar ache of grief.
“I’m sorry.” My muffled words come out of nowhere.
Sorry this is too much.
Sorry I’m being embarrassing.
A burden.
Inconvenient.
I’m in the way. I shouldn’t have forgotten my headphones. I should have checked the weather and not made this anyone else’s problem. He shouldn’t have to share a bed with a grown woman who’s afraid of thunder.
“Don’t.” He rubs my arm. “It’s okay.”
When I sniffle, his grip tightens around me and he rests his chin on my head.
He doesn’t think I’m a burden.
He isn’t mad.
I let go of the fear, and our breaths sync with each exhale. It’s as good as I’d hoped it would be. All-consuming comfort. So warm.
“You’re safe.” He repeats it until my muscles stop spasming and the tears stop staining his pillow. His hand runs up my forearm to my shoulder, and with my eyes closed, the thunder fades.
There’s just him. The sheets smell of fresh linen and his shampoo. Every breath is a gentle lullaby lulling me toward sleep.
He tugs on my leg to open my legs farther so his leg can slide between my thighs. I let him. Because it’s safe. I sense it in his touch. All of this is natural. How things should be. All the puzzle pieces fit together.Wefit.
Parker feels like someone I’ve known all my life.
It’s impossible. I’m too tired. Sleep is taking me.
But I know him.
I swear I do.
