Page 76 of Show Me How to Heal
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at him.
Zayne returned the smile as he piled the last pancakes onto the plate. “You’re welcome,” he said as he put the pan back on the now turned-off stove and walked back toward me to sit on the stool next to mine. “And… I owe you an apology.”
Hä?
“Uhm… Zayne…”
“No, listen. I’m sorry for kicking you out, okay? I messed up there, and I’m man enough to own that. Soo… I’m sorry for throwing you to the wolves. I wasn’t thinking in that moment.”
Butterflies started fluttering in my stomach as his words registered with me. Damn, he was incredible apologizing to me for something I’d brought onto myself. He hadn’t kicked me out for no reason, and while I’d wished he’d chosen another option than sending me through that crowd of paparazzi, I hadn’t blamed him for doing so.
How could I? I’d hurt him. I’d made him do that in the first place.
“It’s okay,” I said, giving him a careful smile and raising my hand as he took in a deep breath in preparation of interrupting me. “No, please, let me finish. I appreciate your apology. I really, really do. However, I’m the one who screwed up here, not you. I’m the one owing you an apology — hell, I probably owe you about a thousand ones — not the other way around. But instead of apologizing over and over, I’m just gonna say this: I’m really sorry, Zayne. I can’t possibly start to tell you how much I regret letting it all come to this. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and I’m incredibly sorry.”
I swallowed all the words, all the explanations and justifications that were on the tip of my tongue. This was supposed to be a dialogue, not a monologue. I’d explain myself if Zayne wanted an explanation, but I wouldn’t force anything on him.
So instead of saying anything, I grabbed my fork, stabbed a couple of pancakes, and put them on my plate, drowning them in maple syrup immediately after.
Yeah… my diet was out of control. Up until a few weeks ago, I’d never ever drowned anything in liquid sugar, much less own a whole bottle of that stuff. But… I knew Zayne liked it, and I’d always hoped I’d one day have him in my home. In my bed.
Zayne reached for his coffee, taking a sip, and sighed contentedly before turning his head back to me. His eyes searched for mine, boring into them. “Why?” he asked. “I mean, I can think of a few options, but I want to hear what exactly was going on in your head. It’s hard for me to believe you choosing not to tell me, your boyfriend, anything hasn’t actually got anything to do with me as a person. I’m… not angry, but definitely am hurt you didn’t trust me with your life story.”
Damn. The piece of pancake in my mouth turned into sawdust, making it hard to swallow. My eyes burned already, but I bit the inside of my cheeks, willing the tears to stay at bay.
“Fear is not rational, you know?” I started, cringing because this sounded bad right off the bat. “It sounds like a cliché and an excuse, but it isn’t. I was ruled by my fears for months. I… back home it got so bad I avoided leaving my home whenever possible. I was terrified of people recognizing me, of seeing the next video of me hopping through a supermarket on one leg, pushing a cart in front of me, my face pinched in pain. Every single thing I did was picked apart by everyone. The press, people on social media. Me buying groceries was me showing I had somehow gambled all my money away and couldn’t afford a delivery service. Others said it was to gain sympathy. Others commented how sorry they felt for me — and honestly, I don’t even know which option was the worst. I started getting anxious even thinking about leaving my house, dreading all my appointments.”
I stopped for a second, taking a deep breath to calm myself. “Moving to Juniper Creek was me starting over somewhere new. Somewhere where no one knew me. Where I could just be me, Luke, a regular guy with a limp.” I shrugged, even though nothing about this was casual. “I’d left my old life behind, but the anxiety had followed me. I thought about telling you, and a part of me wanted to, but there was this voice in my head screaming at me not to do it because what if someone found out. Even while listening to that voice, I knew it was bullshit. Iknewyou’d never sell me out. But every time I started planning on telling you the truth, my throat closed up, I started sweating, and this anxiety was back, slowly taking my breath away.”
Like now. Though now it wasn’t the all too familiar anxiety, but guilt that wrapped around my chest like a rope, pulling tighter and tighter.
Zayne’s hand was burning hot on my forearm, sending sparks up my arm and through me body.
“Deep breaths,” he said gently, his other hand appearing on my back, rubbing circles until I felt the ropes loosen. “Just calm down. Nothing bad is happening. I’m here and I’m listening.”
“But what happens after I’m done?” I whispered, the ropes immediately tightening again. I couldn’t bear even thinking about him leaving me. Not after finally having him with me last night, after having the slightest sliver of hope only to have it ripped away in the most brutal way.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Zayne said. I wanted to protest because he couldn’t know that for sure. Maybe my explanation wasn’t good enough. He might decide he deserved better. He might realize he’d never be able to fully trust me after I’d broken his trust.
Sammy yipped, jumping up my leg.
Even though I could hardly breath, I still felt a smile tugging at my lips as I looked down at the little black and brown rascal, trying to get my attention to calm me back down.
“Sorry,” I told Zayne, not wanting to lose his touch but unable to stay on my seat while Sammy was giving his best to comfort me. I carefully got to my feet before lowering myself on the kitchen floor.
Fuck!
My knee throbbed in protest, but I ignored it, opening my arms for Sammy to cuddle me and burrow his nose against my throat. His front paws rested on my thighs by doing so, and I was certain he’d already gained weight since moving in. But I was also pretty sure he’d grown at least a couple of inches in the last few of weeks.
“Does he do that often?” Zayne asked, looking down on Sammy and me, head tilted in thought.
“Yeah.” I nodded, rubbing my face against Sammy’s head. “He always knows when the anxiety is taking over. He’s really good that way.”
Zayne sat down next to me, still studying us. “He’s like your emotional support animal,” he said. “I mean, he’s obviously too young and not properly trained, but…”
“You’re right. He’s good at knowing when my mind starts spinning, and he even manages to snap me out of it most of the time.”
“What were you thinking about?” Zayne asked. “You went all pale and everything.”
