Page 43 of Trouble
My fingers clench into fists as I will myself to breathe.
“I don’t know how to start over,” she cries. “It’s like he stole my music.My soul. It’s so much more unbearable than if he’d only stolen years of my life. I can’t write a song. Not even a line.” The way she’s looking at me, the desperation in her gaze, the heartbreak in her tone, eats at me.
Unable to stop myself, I grasp her hand, needing to touch her. Wishing I could do more. Wishing I could ease her suffering and help her find herself again. Give her back her music.
But I’ve barely built a life worth living. I simply put one foot in front of the other every day and try to do the right thing. I don’t have anything to offer.
“How do you do it?” she whispers, clutching my hand to her chest and squeezing tight.
“Do what?”I ask, my voice hoarse.
“Move on. Trust again.” Her words shake as she adds, “Feel safe.”
I blink several times, processing the question. I’m not sure I did until I met her. I’ve never trusted anyone with my secrets. And I certainly haven’t moved on. I’ve spent years atoning for an incident I had no control over. Making sure my sister went to college. Making sure my mother never had to stress about paying the bills. They wouldn’t lose out because I had been too weak…
The thought startles me back to reality. Fuck. There I go, doing exactly what Melina is doing. Blaming myself.
“I’m working on it,” I say gruffly, pushing to stand. Suddenly, the air has gotten too thick. My eyes itch, and my chest burns.
“How?”
Focusing on a blank spot on the wall, I settle my hands on my hips. If she were anyone else, I’d turn into the asshole I’m known to be and storm out. Or I’d growl and tell her to go home. When my chest gets this heavy, all I want is to be alone. I can’t control this feeling, and the last thing I want is for others to see that weakness.
But I can’t push Melina away. She needs me. She’s been nothing butkind to me. Though no one deserves to be lashed out at the way I tend to do, it physically pains me to think of hurting her in that way.
I’ve gone this far, so I might as well go all the way and show her how I handle the pain and the anxiety and the intrusive thoughts. I stride back to my locker, yank out the coil of jute rope, stride back to Melina, and hold it out. It dangles between us like the tension in the air.
Her throat works as she swallows audibly, eyes wide and set intently on the jute.
I extend my arm farther, letting the rope sway. “You can touch it.”
Slowly, she reaches out and runs a finger across it. Her eyes jump to mine. “It’s prickly.”
“I have softer ones at home.”
Nibbling on her bottom lip, she surveys me, then the rope, then me again, as if she’s trying to work out what I do with them.
I sit in my desk chair, keeping a couple of feet between myself and Melina. “Not long after I hired Shawn, he opened up to us about his anxiety. He’s big on talking—and reading—and he has made it his mission to get the guys to open up more. As you can imagine, that’s not my thing, but this?” I lift the rope. “After hearing how it helped him, I did a little research of my own. And surprisingly, it does help.”
“How?” Excitement glints in her eyes. The sadness is still there, but it’s lessened. It’s accompanied now by an eagerness. Like maybe she wants to understand what kind of power it holds and whether it will cure her.
“It gives me somewhere to focus my energy when I feel out of control, when my emotions are too big for me to contain.” I grasp the rope with my other hand and work at the knot that holds it together. “Just touching it soothes me. Working on different types of knots, creating designs. As I’ve gotten better with it…” I shrug. “I don’t know why it works, but it does.”
“Do you ever do anything else with it?” The way she asks it, tentatively, but also with a sexy rasp, has my lips twitching into a smile.
“Do you mean sexually?”
I swear the air crackles between us as her eyes flare. “Yes.”
Onebrow arched, I nod. “I have. Yes.”
She heaves in a deep breath, like she can’t get enough oxygen.“Would you show me?”
I squeeze the jute in both fists. Fuck. There’s nothing I’d like more. But… “That’s not a good idea.”
Melina scoots across the edge of my desk, ducking her head to catch my eye. “Why?”
Her question hangs between us, and I have to press my hands to my thighs to keep from reaching for her. Lowering my head, I say, “Because you’re Cade’s girlfriend.”