Page 126 of Love Bleeds Red
“Come here,” he says softly, opening his arms wide. I practically climb into his lap from my chair, settling my head on his chest. He smells like comfort. And when he rubs slow circles on my back, something inside me that’s been wound tight for months finally starts to loosen.
I adjust my head against him so I can hear his heartbeat better. The steady rhythmic beat reminds me of the summer before, when I used to fall asleep with my ear to his chest wrapped in his comfort and care.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
His hand stops rubbing, but he doesn’t move it. “Of what, love?”
“That I’ll never be normal again. That I’ll always be this broken version of myself, pretending everything is okay.”
I bury my face deeper, embarrassed by what I’ve just admitted. But it’s true. Every word. And he’s the first person I’m really saying it to. I don’t even think I’ve been that honest with my therapist.
He continues his gentle motion. “You’re so strong, Bailey. I’ve never thought you were broken, just healing. But you know what? You don’t have to feel any certain way, okay? One day at a time.”
“What if one day at a time isn’t enough?” I ask, my voice muffled against his shirt. “What if I’m stuck like this forever?”
“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he says without hesitation. “There’s no timeline for healing, and there’s no right way to do it. You’re allowed to have bad days. You’re allowed to feel scared.”
I pull back to look at him. “You really mean that?”
“Every single word.” He rolls his lip between his teeth before continuing. “And Bailey? You’re not pretending everything isokay. You’re coping. You’re surviving. You’re here with us, you’re talking, you’re trying. That’s not pretending. That’s being incredibly brave.”
“I don’t feel brave,” I admit.
He wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “I’ll show you every day how brave and strong you are, Firefly.”
I nod, taking in his words. Trying not to dismiss them as him just being nice. We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, me with my head on his shoulder, him holding me close. I feel so safe in his arms.
When I finally sit up, all the tears dried, he almost looks sad to see me climb off him. “Sorry if I got snot on your shirt,” I joke, lightening the mood.
“I’ll treasure it forever,” he says with a small smile. “Don’t worry, I remember where the laundry room is… Some fun times in there.”
My cheeks heat. “Oh my God.”
“What? I was just talking about that time your dad taught me how to get motor oil out of fabric,” he says with fake innocence. “Very educational and fun.”
“Okay, buddy.” I roll my eyes but can’t help myself from smiling.
“Although,” he continues, leaning back in his chair, “now that I mention it, there were some other memorable moments in there too.”
“You’re a dirty old man,” I laugh and feel my chest loosening. This back and forth is so natural, it almost feels like nothing’s changed between us. Especially being back home, sitting around my kitchen table. Like old times.
“Maybe so, but this dirty old man got you to laugh. That’s all I wanted.”
His hand finds mine, and he gives it a soft squeeze. For the first time in months, I feel somewhat normal again. There’s justthe small fact of us living under the same roof once again. It’ll be an experience, that’s for sure.
“So, want me to show you down to thebro-tel?” I ask. “I’m sure it’s just as gross as when you last saw it. Dirty socks and empty cans included.”
He laughs as he stands. “And there goes the fairytale.”
“Yeah… I’ve only been down there to do laundry. It might need fumigating.”
He helps me up from my chair, keeping his hand wrapped in mine. “Sounds like home.”
Hearing him say home, with his warm voice, does something to my chest. Maybe this house will finally feel like home again with him here.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
LEON
