Page 96 of Be Your Anything
I love sunsets. Having lived at the beach for most of my life, staring at the sun as it dips is a form of therapy that makes me feel whole again.
Myactualtherapist doesn’t like me to say that. I told him he should talk tohistherapist about how that makes him feel.
He didn’t like that either.
I try to watch the sun as it sets every evening I can. It’s the one time during the day when I know I can sit and have my thoughts to myself and just…be.
I can’t really pinpoint when it started, but I’m thankful for my little routine. It calms me.
Normally.
Tonight, though, it doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Instead of calming the raging tides of emotion within me, it feels like I’m getting roiled up, spilling over.
As the sun fades, I head home, thankful when the skies open up and rain pours down.
There’s nothing quite like Mother Nature taking your side.
It’s dark when I finally pull into my parking spot, a single-space detached garage, which doesn’t normally pose a problem because it rarely rains in California. Today, though, that’s not the case. I lock up then quickly run through my courtyard and up my steps, trying to get through the rain as fast as possible.
With my head down, I don’t see him until we’re standing right next to each other, until I’m literally inches away from him.
“Where have you been?” he asks, his expression worried.
“Driving,” I say, not looking him in the eye as I fiddle with my keys. “Just needed to clear my head.”
I slip my key into the lock and open my front door, crossing the threshold and spinning around, planting a hand against Lucas’ chest in a rejection of his attempt to come inside.
“Lennon, I just wanna talk to you.”
Pulling my hand away, I realize his chest is wet. That’s when I take in the fact that he’s in workout gear.
“Did you run here?”
He nods.
“Well run on home. You’re not coming in.”
The look on his face is heartbreaking. That would normally be enough to let him inside, but my heart is already broken, smashed into shards and left all over the ground outside the club.
“Lennon.”
He steps forward, ignoring my request for him to leave, and tugs me into his arms, presses me deep into his firm chest.
And I cannot for the life of me find the will I had just a moment ago to push him away.
Even though he’s dripping from standing in the rain.
Even though him being here is tearing me apart.
Even though I can feel my defenses continuing to break and falter and collapse at my feet.
I still let him hold me close, let him press me into his chest, covering me in rainwater and sweat.
Because really, the only person I want to help me soothe these wounds is the one who inflicted them. And that feels incredibly unfair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice full of anguish. He presses a kiss against the crown of my head. “I’m so sorry.”
He says it again.
