Page 112 of Fall to Me
She pouts, jutting out her bottom lip. “Wait. No bubbles?”
“Nope. Sorry,” I say, forcing my attention from her back to the water. “You shouldn’t have anything with a lot of perfumes either.”
She groans. “Please don’t be the micromanaging daddy who won’t even let me have one freaking cup of coffee.”
“Now that you can have. I do want to live to see another day, and you without your coffee . . . whew.”
Reaching out, she pinches my side.
“Ow!”
Taking her soft hand in mine, I help her climb into the tub, then turn off the water. I walk over to the door, slide the lighting control down to dim the bathroom lights, then strip out of my clothes and slip in behind her.
She leans her back against my chest, and her fingers tangle with mine. The water begins to cool as the time passes. I can tell something is weighing on her mind. It’s in the way that she hasn’t relaxed at all and the lack of conversation. As she lays against me, her fingers dance over my skin.
“Can I be honest with you about something?” she asks, finally breaking the silence.
Burying my nose in her hair, I inhale her floral scent that always makes me feel like I’m home as I tell her, “I always want you to be honest with me.”
She turns around—the water sloshing around us—and straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck and laying her head on my shoulder. My fingertips trail down her arm.
“I think . . . I think I’ve been suppressing my fear.” Running my other hand through her soft hair, I lay my head against hers and listen as she continues. “I was so tired of the flashbacks, and the nightmares, and checking over my shoulder all the time. And after Jaxon came into our home, I think my brain checked out. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” I nod, her hair tickling my cheek. “It makes perfect sense.”
“And now I’m scared out of my mind, but it’s not that I’m scared for myself as much as . . . well, we have babies to think about. I’m scared for them.”
River’s mental health is important to me. There’s rational fear and irrational fear. And after her admission, relief settles over me. It’s not that I ever wanted her to be scared. I don’t want that at all. What I want is for her to find balance. This gives me hope that she’s found that, but she also needs to know that I will do whatever needs to be done to protect her.
Tilting up her chin, I hold her gaze. “I promise that I’ll never allow anything to happen to any of you.”
“You can’t possibly make a promise like that.”
“I can make that promise. While we’re on the topic, I noticed you haven’t been to see your therapist. What’s going on with that?”
“I didn’t feel the need to,” she says, shrugging and fiddling with her fingers. “Why should I when I have you?”
“Because when it comes to you, I can’t be objective. I’m too close to the situation. I think she can help you through whatever this is you’re feeling. Also, I’m not qualified to offer you the help you might need.”
She scoffs and leans back to look at me. “You’ve helped me more than she has.”
I look her in the eyes, and damn it’s going to kill me to ask her this, and it might piss her off, but I have to do it. I’m not throwing this in her face; I just need her to realize that she’s not at a place where leaving therapy is a good idea.
“Who are you, River?”
She looks off to the side, rolling her lips together. Pressing my thumb and forefinger to her chin, I guide her head back so she can look me in the eyes, then I ask her again. “Who are you, baby? Tell me.”
It takes her a few seconds before she shakes her head and admits, “I—I don’t know.”
Every time she says those words, it rips me apart. The damage that man has done to her is incomprehensible. There will always be deep scars carried in her heart. “If you don’t like your therapist, we can find a new one, but with everything that’s going on, I don’t think leaving therapy is the right option.”
She lays her head back on my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around her. “I want to be normal again,” she whispers so low that I almost don’t catch it.
I kiss her temple. “You are normal. Sometimes we just need a little help, and that’s okay. Will you tell me something that I don’t know about you?”
“I used to write songs. Your turn,” she says, leaning back.
Our eyes lock, and I move an errant hair stuck to her forehead. “I can secretly sing. I only sing off key in front of people.”
