Page 20 of Always There For You

“I love you. Can’t stand how much.”

“Stay with me.”

“Yes.”

She fell asleep in Amelia’s arms, listening to her best friend breathe.

Amelia had pictured something epic. Some fanciful, grand declaration of love; sweeping Hadley off her feet and making her feel so seen, so adored, that her friend would fall into her arms and the world would right itself.

But their lives weren’t storybooks or movies. Things were always messy with a side of complicated, and while her heart was full, her mind reeled.

What if things got screwed up…hell, what if she screwed up and drove Hadley away and then she’d lose the one thing more precious to her than anything or anyone else? What if Hadley yearned for another place and needed to go, needed to travel again? Could she handle being apart when they’d just gotten together?

Were they together?

Amelia could feel the lump in her throat begin to swell, threatening to choke off her air and drive her into an anxiety spiral. She couldn’t do that; didn’t want to leave Hadley alone in her bed. Didn’t want to freak herself or Hadley out.

With slow, steady breaths, Amelia eventually got her heart to stop hammering so damn hard. But the itch under her skin was unscratchable. Maybe she could sneak off and go make tea, come back to a sleep-warmed, none the wiser Hadley. Maybe that would calm her in a way no deep breathing could. Movement, action, no matter how small, usually quieted the demons. Because when her demons were incredibly loud and too close and clawing at the walls, and her pain was too much and she wondered if she’d ever be able to move again? Moving helped. Even if it was to shuffle to the kitchen to eat an apple over the sink.

Carefully, Amelia slid her foot out of the covers. The cold air of the room was bracing; winter hadn’t yet relinquished its white-knuckle grip. She tensed her arms, gearing up to move as carefully as possible.

“Mmm.”

Oh shit.

“Shhh,” she said as she reached up to run the backs of her fingers over Hadley’s cheek. Gods, the warmth of her skin, the smell of her….Amelia didn’t want to move. But she needed to.

“Ames.” Hadley’s word (her name, her name on Hadley’s lips like this, the joy of it, even slurred so) was soft, hush-dark and round.

“It’s okay. I’m just making tea.”

“Mmmph. Go w’th you?”

“If you want.” Amelia smiled. “But you have to get out of bed and it’s cold.”

“S’fine. Fire.”

“We do have a fireplace.”

“Yep.”

She let Hadley hear her throaty chuckle, feel her fingers pressing into limp hands. “I’ll go and turn on the fireplace.”

“I’m coming.”

Slowly, Hadley dragged herself from bed, half hanging off Amelia, half tangled in the myriad of blankets. But she came, shadowing Amelia’s footsteps and dragging her storm quilt along. If Amelia turned around now and saw, she’d bundle them both back into bed and very likely do something incredibly rash.

Because the feel of Hadley’s warm skin and the scent of her, dew-dropped jasmine and clean cotton, made something needy wake from its long hibernation. And now wasn’t that time.

Hadley curled up in a corner of the big couch by the fireplace, dark eyes watching Amelia as she moved around the kitchen. Making tea was good. It was a focus, a singular dot on the line of routine she knew well. The soundtrack of gentle rain on the old cottage, of the electric flames licking the inside of the protective glass of the fireplace, of Hadley shifting and sighing, made her brain slow down.

The tea was done. Hadley was half asleep by the fire. The rain dropped on the roof over their heads. The ache in her hands from the humidity didn’t matter. The lack of sleep didn’t matter. All Amelia cared about and knew was Hadley.

They drank their tea in silence after Hadley made sure Amelia was properly under the blanket. Amelia let the cinnamon curl on her tongue, shaking her senses awake as everything around her gently crooned a song of sleep, but desire still thrummed through her.

Then their cups were empty and the silence blossomed around them.

“Hey.”

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