Too Good Girl
Page 19
“I’ve got bagels and butter and—”
“Jack!”
I stopped and leaned forwards, resting my elbows on my knees and my chin on top of my hands. I hadn’t wanted this conversation with her until she was physically stronger. I hadn’t wanted it at all. I’d wanted to sit and hope that she would be enlightened and come to me when she was ready. But there were no flies on Syra Johnson. She knew me as well as I knew her, and she knew I was stalling.
“Tell me about your dream.”
There was a look in her eye that suggested she knew exactly what I was talking about and that the dream she’d woken from the previous evening had meant more to her than she’d let on, whether it was good or bad. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, and a knot of worry tightened in my gut.
The tip of her tongue ran across her bottom lip, distracting me momentarily, but when she began to speak, I didn’t look away from her eyes.
“It was kinda hazy. Lots of flickering lights. I don’t know where I was but I was suffocating. I felt trapped. Stuck. It was like I was paralysed and couldn’t get up.” She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top of them before shrugging. “Just a dream.”
Clearing my throat, I sat up a little, wanting to push a little harder to see where her mind was at so we could start putting this chapter to bed. It was wrong of me, but I was convinced she was on the verge of remembering something, and it was only a matter of time before we were discovered up in the fort. “Were you alone?”
A silence settled between us where our eyes were locked.
It was almost as if she were momentarily giving me a window, and it was in those few seconds that I realised she’d remembered all along. My head began to shake gently and a lump formed in my throat as I slid from the chair to the floor where I sat close to her, taking her hands in mine and rubbing back and forth across her knuckles. Although I fully expected her to pull away, my heart dropped when she did, but within seconds, she had crawled into my lap and was wrapped around me, her body shaking with silent emotion. I tucked her head under my chin, my arms holding her tight to my chest, and I squeezed my eyes shut, anger and frustration rebuilding itself inside of me as I relived that fucking night as flashes of colour and noise.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head, hard, and choked on my words as I forced them through gritted teeth. “I’m so fucking sorry, Sy. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Jack
Weightless by Adam French
Feeling You by Harrison Storm
I COULDN’T SAY how long we sat there, her crying, me fighting back my tears, but eventually, her body stilled, the sobs subsided and her breathing evened out. I shifted my weight so my back was resting against the chair and leaned my head on the cushion. The sun was beginning to break through the clouds and was fairly high in the sky; I guessed it was coming up to midday, but it didn’t much matter what time it was.
We had nothing to do but wait this out.
Another half an hour seemed to drift by as I listened to her soft breaths and watched the flutter of her long dark lashes against her skin. Her fingers twitched gently and her brow seemed to furrow periodically, like she was fighting demons in her sleep. A soft wind blew through the open windows and my eyes dropped to Syra’s mouth as her lips parted, her body shifting and shivering at the feel of it on her skin, and I made the decision to move her and let her sleep for the rest of the day. Scooping under her legs, I used my elbows for leverage against the seat of the chair and pushed up to a standing position.
Syra’s arms snaked around my shoulders and neck as I adjusted her weight in my arms so we were both comfortable, and her breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine. I inhaled deeply in a bid to rid myself of the feelings and thoughts flooding my brain and carried her through to the bedroom.
She’d slept in the bed at the far end of the room the night before, so I lay her on it, grabbing blankets to cover her up, and crouched in front of her for a moment. Dragging the back of my hand down her cheek, I gave her another apology. A silent one this time. It was from deep within me, from the bottom of my heart to the depths of hers. I’d failed her, and I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
Leaning over, I pressed a kiss to her temple and stood, turning to leave.
“Stay.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and it caused my heart to splutter.
I twisted back and caught the lazy blink of her eyes,the uncertain movement of her arm as she pulled the blanket back a little—a gentle invitation like she was opening a door, unscrewing a lid, lifting a hatch.
Letting me in.
For almost two years, I’d silently held onto the notion that, one day, she would know she was my one. I loved her already. I’d loved her for so long and had continued to watch just outside her circle because that was where she kept everyone. I’d longed for this moment all that time, and my heart took off, beating erratically, abnormally fast.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think it was anything more than her needing someone to help her feel safe, but goddamnit, the idea that she wasn’t trying to run away from me—that I might be able to chip away a little more at the barricade that encased every inch of her—was like fucking birdsong to me right then.
That night in her room, all those weeks ago, when I’d not been able to help myself, she’d let me do to her what the others did. She’d let me take her body whilst she used mine for whatever reasons she kept locked away from me.
This felt different.
This felt less like what she needed and more what she wanted. It was as if she was fighting denial.
I took the two steps back to the bed and looked down at her as I took the bobble from my hair before sitting on the edge of the mattress and lifting my legs up. She scooted over, lying curled on her side, before pushing her hands underneath her cheek, watching me as I got comfortable, or as comfortable as I could with my whole body on fire at being so close to her on her terms. I mirrored her position, my eyes roaming over every inch of her beautiful face, and I watched her throat bob as she swallowed, reaching out my hand to trail the backs of my fingers down her cheek.
I whispered, because anything louder would have shattered the earth.
“You okay?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, a small shake of her head had my heart breaking all over again. There were no tears this time, but the pain in her heart shone through her eyes and spoke all of the words I knew she was keeping held tightly to her chest.
“You need to sleep.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
I paused. “Because I ca—”
“Care. I know. But why do you care? Why are you always saving me?”
Because I’m in love with you.
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. “Because that’s what friends do, right?”
She swallowed again, her eyes blinking heavily as she continued to watch me. “I haven’t been a very good friend to you.”
I shook my head. “Don’t do that.”
Our voices were still whispers, barely audible over the sound of the sea and the wind that whistled through our fortress.
“It’s true. I’ve pushed you away when all you’ve ever tried to do is help me. I never listen to you, always intent on doing it my way. I always—”
“Don’t do that.” My eyes were fixed on hers, my heart beating out of rhythm at this intimacy and openness that kept us locked in a vortex of trust. I was desperate for her—for all of her—and that desperation spilled over my lips and into the small space between us.
She didn’t understand.
She blamed herself, but she had nothing to be sorry for.
“You don’t need to explain or apologise for being you. Okay? I get it. Even when I walked away from you, I got it. I was more frustrated with myself than with you. I was pissed because I couldn’t get through to you and angry because I didn’t seem to be able to give you what you needed. I was never enou
gh for you and cared too much to sit around watching you get what you needed from elsewhere, from other people. From…” I let my eyes close as I inhaled a lungful of air through my nose. I was about to hand myself over to her and was petrified she wouldn’t get it. I was scared she’d still see me as nothing more than her friend, her housemate, but hoped with all I was that my next words would speak to her and show her she was my world. She was my fucking everything, and I wanted to be her everything, too. I wanted to give her what she needed so she didn’t have to run anymore. I wanted her to feel safe and loved, and I wanted to be the one she lived for.
I opened my eyes and let them flicker over her face. She was deadly silent, as if she sensed I had more to say—as if she sensed I was trying to pour my heart out. My fingers twitched and itched to reach out and touch her skin again. The impatient side of me urged them to move, to stroke her cheek and drag slowly over her lips, to part them, but the sensible side of me caused them to curl tightly together as if touching her might make her disappear.
“I couldn’t sit there and watch you get what you needed from other men, Syra. I wanted to be the man you came to when you needed anything. Everything.” I paused again, watching her face, her eyes, trying to read her thoughts.
“And now?” She bit down on the corner of her bottom lip, a nervous tremor in her voice. “What do you want now?”
My fingers took on a life of their own then. They ignored my cautious pleas and my uncertainties and they reached out. I traced her hairline, lifting and pushing her dreads from her face before trailing down the side of it. She was so soft, her skin warm to the touch. I memorised the curve of her jaw and the rose-coloured blush in her cheek. I dragged the pad of my thumb down the bridge of her nose, over the smattering of freckles that dusted a path across it and under her eyes. I dropped my gaze to her mouth, to her fuller top lip and her Cupid’s bow that wasn’t much of a bow at all. I’d kissed that mouth before, but somehow, needing to kiss it again felt new. I longed to taste it and savour it, but with her on board this time. I didn’t want to be a mere distraction for her, and if she wasn’t on the same page as me, I wasn’t sure how to carry on. But carry on I would because I loved her, and I’d see her happy before I took care of my own emotions.
Lying there with her, though, all those negative thoughts began to dissipate as my declaration of love rolled off my tongue. “For the longest time, I wasn’t sure my heart was beating at all, and then there was you. You found your way into my life, and I heard the sound of pounding in my chest for the very first time. You make my heart beat loud and strong, Syra. You fill my days and my thoughts when before there was nothing but emptiness and a lack of purpose. And when you’re not beside me, not near me, the loss I feel is unfathomable.” I ran my fingertip around the edge of her lips, tracing the shape of them, committing the feel of them to memory, too. “I want you, Syra. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. All of you. All your broken parts, your heartache and your troubled past. I want to be the one to hold you when all you can do is cry—to sit beside you in silence because you don’t know what you want to say. I want to be there to drag you back to your feet and push you forwards when you can’t find the energy to keep moving.” I caught the first tear as it splashed over her lashes and onto her skin, crawling slowly over her nose. “I want everything with you. I want to challenge you and be challenged by you. I want to scream and shout at you when you are too stubborn to see the destruction that you create. I want to be the one to find your laughter and discover ways to keep it ringing every day and discover your happiness and be there every time it lights up your face.” More tears chased the first and I wiped them away with the heel of my hand before shuffling closer and cupping her face. “But most of all, I want you to let me in, to let me close enough to love you. Because I’m in love with you, Syra Johnson. I’m so fucking in love with you and have been for so very long.”
A choked sob escaped her chest at my final words, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, her body curling in on itself more with each pain-wracked shudder.
I let her cry because she needed it.
I didn’t touch her, but I didn’t leave.
I was all in.
I was completely invested in her and would do whatever it took to see her out the other side.
We lay facing each other, her evicting a world of pain through the tears that continued to fall, and when the muffled sounds of her cries began to subside, I crawled out of the bed, covering her up with blankets, and I let her sleep.
The road ahead was long and winding, but I was quietly confident that I’d made a chink in the shield she held up against her heart.
It was the start of something amazing—I knew it.
Jack
Roses On A Breeze by Bear’s Den
Worship by FAVELA
THE FOLLOWING DAYS merged into one.
I read whilst she finally slept. I took her food she’d barely touch and forced her to drink, and then she would sleep some more. The days were long and quiet, and the nights were restless as I lay awake, in case she needed me.
On the fourth day, as the sun began to fall lower in the sky, I turned my head to see her walking through the doorway, blankets flapping around her, bare feet and legs.
Closing my book, I took in a lungful of air and waited for her to reach where I was sitting. She looked unsure, nervous, a little apprehensive, so I took charge of the situation.
Shoving my hair back and securing it at the nape of my neck, I got to my feet. She needed some fresh air and a decent meal, so glancing out of the window to see the sunset stretching across the sky in pinks and oranges, the rain having finally given up for the day, revealing a clear sky, I moved to the bags of provisions, crouching down and sorting food and blankets, matches and other essential items It was risky, but I made a snap decision to get us out of there for a few hours. I looked at her over my shoulder. “Fancy a trip out?”
She curled herself into the armchair and watched me as I packed the bags. “A trip out? Like where?”
I turned and grinned. “We have a boat. We can go anywhere.” I threw some jumpers and towels into another bag and held out some of her clothes that I’d packed in a hurry. “Here. Go get dressed; I’m taking you out to dinner.”
Her eyebrows lifted in uncertainty. “We’re hiding. In the middle of the sea, Jack.”
I stood and shoved my arms into one of my hoodies. “It’s a little place no one knows. Trust me. Make sure you’re wrapped up.”
Rolling her eyes at me, her nervousness appearing to have disappeared a little, she toddled off whilst I loaded what I could into the boat. The fort was well-equipped with items needed for any trip, and I’d been coming here for so long I knew exactly what was lying around, including having a stockpile of things I’d brought along myself over the years. Once she returned, dressed in leggings, boots and a warm jumper, I threw a waterproof coat at her and held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go before it gets too dark.”
Getting her into the boat was much easier than trying to get her out of it had been, and we were soon rowing back towards the mainland, this time, in a slightly diagonal line to a neighbouring village, a sleepy little place called Silvercove. The sun dipped below the horizon as we finally reached the shore, painting a dark purple hue that hung over the ocean. The stars were beginning to show themselves, and an unusually warm breeze blew around our faces. I helped Syra out of the boat before dragging it up the beach and hiding it up the side of the cliff.
“Where are we?” she shouted across the sand to me, her arms folded across her chest and her face screwed up in confusion.
Walking towards her with the bags in my hands, I grinned. “La Cucina di Jack.” Indicating a spot on the sand that was sheltered by the cliffs, I nodded. “Take a seat, bella signorina, and I shall bring you the menu.” I winked as an amused smirk twitched at her lips and watched her glorious arse walk away from me to plonk itself down on the beach.
Goddamnit, she was something else, and she didn’t even know her worth.
I pulled out blankets and lay them flat, instructing her to sit on one of them whilst I busied myself setting out the portable gas stove and building a small fire. She watched on, handing things to me periodically, and when I was finally set up, I sat beside her, leaning back on my elbows to watch the sky.
“It’s so clear tonight.” She hugged her knees and let her eyes drift across the blackness. “I always imagine the stars are actually little holes letting in the light from somewhere else. Like the sky is just a huge blanket over Earth and there’s something bright and even more wonderful beyond it.”
“Like Heaven?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe something bigger than Heaven—something beyond the idea of God even.” She turned her head to look at me. “Nuts, right?”
“Pretty fucking nuts, Johnson.” I smiled and sat up.
She dipped her chin and I watched her twist her fingers together in her lap before looking back up at me, the flames from the fire dancing in her blue eyes.
“About the other day.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it now.” I nudged her shoulder with mine.
“I know, but—”
“Let’s eat. Then we can talk. Okay?”
She smiled a little, an expression of what appeared to be relief taking over her features. My heart beat faster and my stomach twisted with my own nerves, disappointment spiking at the uncertainty in her voice.
I needed to prepare, brace myself for a response I wouldn’t like, but one that was, in reality, completely likely given our past and her past and everything that had happened recently. I’d laid my cards on the table in the vain hope that she might turn around and tell me exactly what I wanted to hear, but the possibility that she might not hit me like a ton of bricks. I turned away, hiding my worried eyes from hers, and got to work lighting the stove and making a pot of mixed bean stew and rice. I allowed myself a glance at her every now and again, hoping to read her mind and have a head start on a conversation I was now scared to engage with, but she was giving nothing away.