Page 70 of Where You Are
“Em,” he whispers this time, and it’s all it takes to break the spell I’m under and realize that this is him. Not the angry, marred shell of himself I saw the last time, but the real him. The one I know; the one I love. And after months of not allowing myself to break, I do so right here on this spot. In his arms, I crack wide open. Every moment of loneliness, of desperately missing him, of isolation from my home and family, the fear and the shame Anthony made me feel, I let it out. The tears flood and sobs take over my body. I bask in the closeness, allowing his familiar scent to come back to me and comfort me, while his shirt absorbs my tears and muffles my cries. I’m wracked with desperate sobs and I barely register him kicking the door closed behind him, and before I can even wonder if this is all too much, I feel his arms hold me tighter, like he’s trying to hold all my shattered pieces together so they don’t fall to an irreparable mess on the floor, and his breath in my hair as he speaks to me in a soothing voice.
“Em, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m never going to let you go,” he whispers.
I continue to cry in his arms, and at some point, we both sink to our knees. After a short while, the sobs and hiccups subside, and so do the tears. I let my face stay buried in his chest for a few moments while he strokes my hair and I catch my breath. He gently pulls away, just enough to look at me. I worry about what I’ll see in his face as I look up at him, but I’m surprised to see a look that seems like it’s thankful; like he’s never wanted anything more than to hold me while I fell apart.
“Hey Sunshine,” he murmurs while his eyes search mine, still seeming unsure of how his endearment will be received.
“M,” I breathe out shakily, and he pulls one side of his mouth up in a small smile. I’m still trying to figure out if this is real. That he’s really here in my house, holding me on the floor, with love instead of anger in his eyes.
“I never told you how much I missed you,” he whispers, and it makes two more tears escape down my cheeks. He leans forward to kiss each one away before resting his forehead on mine. “Would it be okay if I never missed you again for the rest of our lives?”
I nod, bringing my hands up to his face.
MATT
She’s so beautiful. Even if she is missing that warm, glowing sunshine, her beauty is boundless. Before she left I was hopelessly in love with her, but now I realize that even then, I had no idea how deep her beauty ran. And now I’m going to hold her until she knows it’s okay to shine again. I’m going to take care of her and protect her until the day I die. Her warm light is going to reignite, because I’m seeing to it that it does, no matter how long it takes or what I have to do. We’ve got the rest of our lives.
I could tell her breakdown was cathartic rather than sorrowful, and the fact that she felt safe enough to succumb to it in my arms feels like a privilege I’ll never deserve.
I scoop her up and carry her to the bedroom before placing her down by the bed. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, I can see her features more clearly. She looks a little scared, but hopeful. Probably feeling what I am, like this moment is too good to possibly be happening. I bring her hands to my chest, positioning one over my heart so she can feel it beating for her.
“Trust me?” I ask her. As much as I want to make love to her, worshipping her and drowning in her over and over, I need her to believe this won’t end up like the last time I stormed in here, consumed by my own brokenness, which means being patient on that front, but that’s not even a concern at this moment. Right now, I just want to be close.
“Yes,” she whispers up at me after a moment. There’s curiosity in her eyes, but the trust is there too. And with that, I take hold of the end of her t-shirt and begin to slowly raise it, giving her time to change her mind and stop me if she wants. She doesn’t. Instead she raises her arms, allowing me to pull it slowly off her. After gently tossing it aside, I reach behind me and pull my own shirt off, leaving us both bare from the waist up, before unbuckling my belt. I push my jeans and boxers down before kicking my shoes off and stepping out of everything.
I touch my forehead to hers, letting my hands glide down her arms until I reach her hips where I grab either side of her pale pink lace panties and pull them down her legs. I then take her hand and coax her into the bed with me as I keep my body facing her. When she’s settled beside me, I gather her in my arms, wrapping them completely around her; cradling her. Her breath against my neck is the sweetest thing I’ve felt in over a year, along with her delicate arms going around me, hugging me back.
I’m hard for her, that will always be a given in her presence I think, but it’s so incredibly easy to ignore that need when it’s overshadowed by the need to simply love her.
Under these covers, with Mel in my arms, her skin against mine, nothing is more right in my world.
I breathe in her hair, her skin. I caress her back and run my cheek along her shoulder to her neck. I’m trying to get lost, to bury myself in her and she allows it with an occasional contented sigh. I’ve left the bedside light on so that anytime I want throughout the night, I can get a good look at her and double check that I’m really here with her.
Just when I’ve reached a feeling of security and contentment, I hear the front door open and Sarah’s voice calling out.
“Melanie? Steve’s here. I just let him in. Goodnight!”
Who the fuck is Steve?!
“Who’s Steve?” I ask, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of my voice, when I hear a light patter of paws come down the hallway. I look up to see some weird creature standing in the bedroom doorway. It looks like a handful of black fur with eyeballs, and it just stands there looking at me vacantly.
“That’s… Steve,” Melanie quietly clarifies, looking at the thing over her shoulder.
“Steve goes,” I order.
“Steve stays.”
“Steve stays,” I concede as I pull Melanie close to me again.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Matt
“Why don’tyou go home tonight?” Melanie suggests out of the blue, startling me from my writing. Across the small breakfast table in the pool house kitchen, she regards me with her hands wrapped around her coffee cup. Despite the assessing look in her eyes, so much brightness has returned to face, and whether it’s from having me around or not, it’s wonderful to see.
Iamhome,is my first thought, but I bite.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, carefully grabbing my glasses off my face and setting them down on my notepad.