Page 45 of Ms. Lead

“Okay, good. Not that you’re not thinking straight.” Great. Now I’m rambling. “I am on the pill, but we should get a Plan B just in case. There are drugstores back up in Reno…” my voice trails off as I look around at the sky, trying desperately to figure out what time it is and if we can get to a store before closing.

There are warm hands on my shoulders, and I glance up to see Oliver staring at me. His brow is still knotted with worry, but his eyes are now completely unreadable. Why can’t I read him anymore?

I search for the tether between us that is always there, humming away in the background of our lives, and I almost don’t sense it anymore. It’s barely a ghost of an echo now.

“It’ll be okay. Take a deep breath.” He breathes in slowly to demonstrate, and I follow along, still half in a daze. “Okay, good. Let’s pull up shop here and find that drugstore you mentioned. Everything will be fine.”

I nod mechanically, still in disbelief at how quickly everything just changed between us because they most certainly did. Things went from the most beautiful dream to the darkest nightmare in an instant.

Abstractly I wonder what color our auras are now. They’re probably as dark as the oncoming night.

Chapter Twenty-Five

OLIVER

YOU’LL BE FINE

Nightmares really do come true. If you work hard enough and give it your all, you, too, can realize all of your worst nightmares. If my life ever needed a commercial, there’s my tagline.

Bianca has completely changed. She’s disconnected from me entirely. The whole ride into Reno, our brief time in the drugstore, and the way back was near total silence. It doesn’t help that I, the wordsmith who gets paid to put words in a pleasing order for a living, am at a loss for what to say. I never envisioned being in a situation like this, and it’s not exactly something you can prepare for.

The worst part was when Bianca took the Plan B, she made sure that I witnessed her take it, even sticking out her tongue to show the pill being swallowed. As if I wouldn’t trust her to actually take it.

At that point, I had to walk away. Every attempt I’ve made to hold her, or even her hand, has been rebuked. I don’t know what else I can do. I don’t know how to make this better.

I’ve been in the bedroom, pretending to go through my notes again to give her the space she asked for until she wanted to come to bed. Glancing at my phone, I see that it’s late. She should have come to bed by now. We can’t keep this up. Well, I don’t want to keep this up.

Making my way to the landing, I look down on the great room and see Bianca curled up on the sofa, a throw blanket over her. Did she fall asleep down there? As I approach her, it’s obvious that she is sleeping, but I also notice a well-worked ball of tissue in her hand and a redness around her eyes that makes it clear she’d been crying.

My heart sinks at the thought of her down here, alone, crying about something I was responsible for, while I was upstairs pretending to work like nothing happened. I didn’t hear a god-damned thing.

Was she that quiet? Or am I that good at ignoring what I don’t want to hear?

My heart wants me to scoop her up, carry her upstairs, and hold her all night while she sleeps so I can chase away any bad dream that threatens her peace.

But, I’m afraid. I’m a fucking coward.

What if I lift her and halfway up the stairs, I drop her?

Jesus Christ, I’m pathetic.

I stand for another minute, watching her steady breathing with the rise and fall of her chest.

“Fuck this,” I whisper to myself.

Bending down, I slide my arms carefully under her and lift, keeping her close to my chest for balance. After waiting a few seconds to gauge my ability, I carry her upstairs without incident and lay her on the bed.

It’s only then that she stirs, squinting up at me, confused. I let out the breath I was holding the entire journey and crawl into bed next to her, pulling her close to me, and she doesn’t resist.

“What…How did I get up here?” she asks, looking around, half asleep.

“I carried you. Go back to sleep.” I brush back the hair that’s fallen over her face.

Even with puffy eyes from crying, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve seen. I continue to rake my fingers through her hair lightly in an attempt to coax her back to sleep. I didn’t mean for her to wake up.

Instead, her eyes fly open, and she pushes herself up to face me.

“You, what?”

---