He grabs my shower puff and loads it up with body wash. He turns to me with questioning eyes, and I give a single nod. He softly runs the puff all over my skin, lathering my body up in the soft bubbles while the scent of vanilla surrounds us.
He manoeuvres me under the stream of hot water, and I grimace as it hits my skin. The water stings all the cuts and scrapes I’ve endured on my arms and legs.
“Shit,” he whispers, quickly reaching for the cold tap to cool the water down. “Is that better?” he asks gently, causing me to meet his gaze. I nod at him again, still unable to get words out.
He grabs my hand and slowly pulls me out of the stream of water, turning me around to face away from him. His hands leave me for a few seconds before they return to my head, lathering up the shampoo. I flinch as he rubs over my scalp. “Fuck, sorry,” he says with his voice full of concern. I vaguely remember hitting my head.
He delicately washes my hair in pieces, avoiding touching my scalp at all. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone be so gentle with me before, so tender and caring like I’m the most precious and fragile object in the world.
Once he’s carefully rinsed my hair, he shuts off the water and leads me out of the shower. Standing on the mat, he grabs my towel and wraps it around me before seeing the fresh stack of towels on the bathroom shelves and taking one, wrapping it around his waist. He takes hold of my towel and begins patting me dry. As he pats over my chest I can see the question in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice husky. His eyes shoot up to mine, wide and shocked, and I nod.
He returns my nod, places the towel on the toilet seat and reaches behind me to unclasp my bra, slowly peeling it off me. He hooks his fingers into my panties and stops, looking at me as indecision flits across his face. His carefulness and thoughtfulness fill my heart with warmth. He’s being so gentle with me, and it confirms how safe I am with him.
I give him a small smile, and he slowly pulls my panties down as I hold onto his shoulders and step out of them. He stands to get the towel and carefully finishes drying me off, wrapping the towel around me before quickly drying himself off and rewrapping the towel around his waist.
He picks me up in his arms carrying me into the bedroom. He tenderly lays me down in bed and my body relaxes into the soft mattress. The bed dips behind me and Saxon’s warm arms come around my torso to hold my body tight against his.
“Saxon …”
“I know, I know,” he interrupts me. “I’ll get going. Please, just let me hold you for a while.” The desperation in his voice is clear.
“Stay,” I whisper
“What?”
“Stay with me.”
His body stills and his silence fills the room more than any words could.
“Please, Sax. Stay with me.”
“Of course, baby. Of course I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”
We lie in silence. Words aren’t needed. I soak in his presence and that familiar peace. Things have changed between us. This has changed us. I know without a shadow of a doubt that things will never be the same between Saxon and me again.
We’re spending the night together and not having sex. It’s breaking every unspoken rule we have. It’s that defining moment all couples have when they know things have moved forward without their knowledge, consent, or control.
As humans we can control our actions, even control how we think about things, but we have no control over our hearts: how we feel, what we really want, what we cherish, and who we love.
“Saxon?” I whisper.
“Mmmmm?”
“You can keep my key.”
Saxon freezes before his hold tightens, and he snuggles into my neck. Feeling his smile against my skin, I release a soft breath and my body relaxes.
Just as I’m entering the realms of sleep he leans into my ear and whispers, “I love you, Brooke.”
The warm sun on my face floating through the partially open drapes wakes me from my deep sleep. As I glance around my room the hazy details from last night come floating back to me. Stretching, the pain that shoots through me confirms the memories are real, not at all a figment of my imagination.
Paul pulling my hair, dragging me around, holding me down, my frantic fighting. I still can’t believe I’m safe, that Saxon saved me before anything could happen, before he could do that to me. Tears well in my eyes, and a sob breaks through my chest. The memories play over and over in my mind.
Rolling onto my side, I let the pain drain out of me. I don’t have the strength to hold my emotions back.
The bed dips, and strong, warm arms wrap themselves around me, holding tight enough to control my shudders. “Shhhhh, baby. I’m here. You’re safe,” Saxon whispers into my ear.
His warm embrace and soothing voice brings back other memories of last night. Memories of Saxon holding me, washing me, promising to stay with me. Holding me in his arms and telling me he loved me. What? Did that really happen? Did I really hear that or did I dream it? No, I must have dreamt it. Saxon doesn’t love me.
Ignoring the niggling in my head I nuzzle closer to him. That familiar peace and security he brings washes over me, and my sobs begin to cease as my body settles.
He loosens his grip on me as he feels my body relax, and I turn over to face him. I wrap myself around his body and nuzzle into his chest. The warmth, the comfort, and the sense of peace… I soak it all in. As we embrace he rubs his hands up and down my back, offering up whatever I want to take from him.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but I’m dozing off before my internal alarm of my morning needs ring.
“I need to pee,” I mumble into his chest.
His laugh reverberates through him. “Get up and refreshed. I have breakfast waiting.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. So hurry up.” I lay a warm kiss on his chest before jumping off of him and out of bed. I freeze by the bed thinking of the kiss which came so naturally. We’re falling into a familiar and comfortable routine and relationship, and I’m not sure how I feel about this.
Saxon smacks my ass as he passes me on his way to the door and all thoughts leave my head. “Hurry up,” he says once more before exiting my room.
As I pass the mirror, I gasp. I barely recognise myself under the red and puffy eyes and the already dark bruises all over my face. I look down and see a similar pattern across most of my skin, my arms and legs all grazed and scratched.
I rub the back of my head and wince as the pain that shoots through my skull reminds me of how I came to look like this. Not wanting to witness my pain anymore, I quickly bend over the sink and splash some cold water on my face.
After I’ve freshened up I dress in yoga pants and a t-shirt and head towards the kitchen. Saxon has a platter of bagels on the table along with several juices, flavoured milks, teas, and coffee. There’s a bowl of fruit salad and one of homemade yoghurt. I recognise the fruit swirled through it as my favourite tropical flavour from the yoghurt shop down the road.
Saxon is standing with his back to me, washing up a few dishes. His slacks are all creased and his shirt hangs out of his pants. Sensing my presence, he turns and gives me a warm smile. “Sit down,” he gestures to the table. “Breakfast is ready.”
“I thought you didn’t cook.” I smirk as I take a seat.
“Putting cream cheese on a bagel is hardly cooking. I got the yoghurt and fruit salad from the place you love down the street and quickly stopped at the deli to grab the drinks.” He stares at me blankly like it’s no big deal.
“Can I ask you something, Sax?” I ask hesitantly.
“Sure.” He doesn’t turn to face me.
“Why are you so against relationships? You seem so natural at it.”
“Trust me, Brooke. I am no good for anyone. No one would want me as their partner, or worse, their husband.” There’s no sadness in his voice, no self-pity, just calm fact.
“That’s not true. Look
how well you’ve taken care of me.”
He sighs loudly before turning and coming to sit across from me at the table. “Growing up, my parents weren’t around. They were too focussed on themselves, their careers. They never cared what I was doing or what was going on in my life. I was a nuisance to them, something that only got in the way. I was a show pony for when they needed it.”
I reach over the table and entwine our fingers, showing silent support while Saxon continues telling me stories about his childhood and absent parents. The stories he shares sadden me. I imagine a young Saxon, sad and alone. I don’t ever want him to feel that way again: unloved, insignificant, and worthless.
“I started spending all my time at Nate’s as I got older. My father was angry and my mother was a drunk. I loved feeling welcome there. It’s the only place I ever felt wanted, appreciated.” He runs his hand through his hair, his face tight as painful memories flash in his eyes.
“I don’t want that, Brooke. To be in a relationship where I don’t love the other person, don’t care for them. Where it’s more like a business agreement than a relationship. I don’t want to have kids to then not be there for them.”
“Then don’t, Sax. Make the decision not to be like them,” I stress.
“It’s never bothered me. I never realised before how alone I truly am.”
“And now?”
He sighs. “And now, when you’re not around, I feel like I’m suffocating in my loneliness.”
I squeeze his hand, unsure what to say.
“That’s why I came looking for you last night. I tried going back to my apartment, but I fucking hate that place when you’re not there.” He swallows hard. “When I drove into the parking lot and saw you…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens his eyes and they find mine, they’re wet with unshed tears. Instinctively, I stand and go to him, unable to not hold him any longer. He scoots his chair back from the table and I climb onto his lap, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and burying my face in his chest.
“How many times are you going to save me?” I whisper against him.
“No more, Brooke.” He kisses the top of my head. “I shouldn’t have to save you; I should be protecting you. Stopping anything from happening in the first place.”
My shoulders relax and I smile softly. “You can’t protect me from everything, Sax.”
Just as he’s about to argue with me the front door flies open and my best friend comes storming in and instantly, I know she knows. The anger, concern, confusion, and sadness all flit across her face, merging together to create one fierce woman.
She stalks towards us, pulling me up from Saxon’s lap and holding me so tightly she almost lifts me off the floor.
“Oomph,” I breathe as she releases me.
Holding me out, her gaze rakes over me. Head to toe, head to toe, head to toe. “What the fuck, Brooke?” she breathes, pulling me back in her arms.
“I’m okay, Rach. I promise.”
She holds me out again, running her hand gently over my face, and I know she must be freaking out. It looks worse than it feels, but still gave me a bit of a shock in the mirror this morning. I see Saxon over her shoulder holding his keys, wallet, and phone.
“I’m going to head out,” he says.
“No,” I say too quickly. Rachel narrows her eyes at me, and I know she’s wondering if this is just because of last night’s events or something else. “You haven’t even had breakfast. Stay and have breakfast.”
“You two enjoy it. I have a few things to do this morning, but Rachel is going to stay with you and I’ll be back this afternoon, okay?” He gives me a reassuring smile before turning to my friend. “The food’s for Brooke. Don’t eat it all, lard-ass, and look after my girl,” he says, turning to leave.
“She’s my girl, ya douche-nozzle-shit-dick.”
I turn my head to Rachel with disgust and confusion on my face at her choice of insult. She casually shrugs her shoulders as she shoves a bagel in her mouth.
Shaking my head, I turn to follow Saxon to the entry and pause by the door. “I don’t want you to stay to babysit me. I just want you to stay.” The sadness in my voice rings out.
“I know, baby, and you have no idea how much I love hearing you say that. You two enjoy some girl time. I’ll be back later, I promise.”
“Why did you call her?”
He sighs. “Because you need to talk to someone, Brooke, about everything, and I don’t think I’m that person.” I stare at him, unsure what to say yet knowing what he means. “I’ll be back later.” He leans down and gives me a light kiss on my cheek. I watch him go and dread going back in to talk to Rachel.
Knowing I can’t avoid it, I head in there and find her wearing her serious face. It’s a face she rarely has, but I know it means business. I sit in the chair across from her and wait.
“What the fuck happened?” she asks, getting straight to the point.
Sighing deeply, I prepare myself. “I was working late alone—”
“Not last night,” she interrupts. “Saxon told me all about it, and I don’t wish to hear those fucked-up details again.”
“Well, what did he tell you? I didn’t get to ask him anything this morning. Did they get Paul? Is he in jail? Do I need to go to the police station? Will I have to face him?”
“Calm down, Brooke. Take a breath. First, yes they got him. He’s in the hospital though. I think Saxon did a number on him. He said you spoke to the police last night. Do you not remember? I think he cut them short though, demanding to take you home. So, you may need to go in and add to your statement.”
I mull this all over. Saxon did a number on him? I didn’t even ask him what happened, let alone if he was okay. I gave a statement? “No, I don’t remember much from last night,” I tell her, searching my mind for any new details.
“Well, I don’t want to talk about last night. I want to talk about why when I walked in here you were wrapped around Saxon like he was your reason for living,” she demands.
“Maybe … because he is,” I tell her. My chest is tight. Is he?
“That’s what I thought,” she sighs. “Tell me everything.”
So I do. I tell her everything, from the day Saxon rocked up at my house a few months after the funeral. I tell her how we came to have sex and how things progressed from there.
Rachel says nothing the whole time and barely changes her expression, her eyebrows rising every now and then.
I finish by telling her about last night, and Saxon’s comments this morning. Even telling her what I thought I heard as I fell asleep last night.
“So?” I say, desperate to hear what she thinks in the hope she’ll tell me what to do.
“Fuck,” she breathes out. “Fuck.”
“I know, right? I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m starting to feel like it’s careening out of control.”
“Starting to?” Her voice is high-pitched. “Brooke, fuck. This got out of control the minute you two started working together.”
“Well, I think that’s over-exaggerating a little,” I tell her, annoyed.
“Brooke, Saxon has always had a thing for you. What did you think sleeping with him on a regular basis was going to do? He has feelings for you. From what you say, very deep feelings. Do you feel the same?”
“What? I don’t know? Maybe? No.”
“Huh?”
“Shit, Rach, I care for him deeply. He means the world to me and has been my biggest support since Nate.” She frowns. “You know what I mean. Seeing him and spending time with him every day, we’ve naturally become close.” She nods, relenting. “But deep feelings? Yeah, I guess I do, but I don’t want this to go any further.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” I scream. “What do you think? He’s Nate’s best friend, Rachel. I couldn’t do that to Nate.”
“Brooke, sweetie. You aren’t doing anything to Nate. Nate’s not here, Brooke. You aren’t cheating or being unfaithful t
o him. He’s gone, and it’s nearly been a year,” she says softly, trying to placate me.
“I feel like I’m choosing between them.” Tears well up in my eyes before falling down my cheeks.
Rach moves into the chair next to me and hugs me to her. “You can’t choose between them, Brooke. You don’t have that option. Nate isn’t here. He isn’t a choice.”
She holds me in her arms and rubs my back until my tears settle. “What if it wasn’t Saxon?” I look up at her question.
“What do you mean?” I lean back in my own chair.
“What if it was a stranger? Just a man you met. Would you feel as guilty?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. Would I? Is it moving on from Nate or the fact it’s with his best friend that bothers me more?
“I think you need to just focus on Saxon. Don’t think about Nate or the guilt. Think about Saxon and what he means to you. You can’t keep dragging him along.”
Looking to her, my mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. I’m not sure what to say to that.
“I think it’s pretty clear how he feels for you, Brooke. If you don’t feel the same way I don’t think you can keep doing this with him.”
I’m shocked at her stern tone. He’s her mortal enemy, and she’s telling me to do right by him.
“Why can’t we just go on the way we have been?” Irritation rings through my tone.
“Brooke, you know better than anyone how you can keep going back to the past or move forward into the future, but nothing ever stays still.”
I hate that she’s right.
Saxon has barely left my side over the past month. He’s been caring and overprotective in a way that is quite suffocating. I feel terrible even thinking that, but someone popping their head in your office almost every half hour asking if you’re okay gets old quick.
Sometimes I think the incident with Paul affected him more than it did me—not that I wasn’t affected, but maybe women can internalise and rationalise better.
Deep down, his issue is his guilt. He feels like he failed me for not firing Paul sooner and for not being with me that night. Nothing I say can help him work through his issues. We haven’t discussed the incident since it happened, unless he updates me on Paul’s arrest and charges and what I may need to do. Even with this, I know he only tells me what he has to, keeping the other details to himself.
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