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I didn’t stop circling her back and rubbing her neck and whispering, “I’ve got you,” so she could hear it repeated over and over and know I wasn’t going anywhere.
I didn’t know how long we stood there or how long my fucking heart was tortured by the sound and wetness of her crying, but eventually, she lifted her head and looked up at me.
“Brady …”
“Tell me how to fix this.”
A statement I’d never spoken to another woman. But I hoped she would trust me enough to take me up on it.
While she wiped her cheeks and the sides of her mouth, it appeared like she was attempting to catch her breath. “I’m going to go to the bathroom and clean myself up a little bit. I need a minute … okay?”
“Okay.”
She was gone, locked behind the door of the bathroom, the faucet loud enough that I could hear it from the other side.
Jesus Christ … what was all that crying about?
I leaned against the wall behind me and dragged both hands across the top of my hair, recounting the last few minutes.
I needed answers.
I needed to know what the fuck was hurting her because that pain was deep. An ache so buried within her that I could feel the trembles inside my own body.
Even though there was a door between us, it didn’t feel right to stand here. She deserved more privacy than that. So, I grabbed the food off the floor and carried it into the room, setting the bag on the dresser. Right beside it was her phone, the screen lighting up and vibrating as a call was coming through.
A call from someone named David.
As it continued to ring, I was unable to look away, not even when the call went to voice mail.
Once that screen cleared, the notifications showed.
And what it revealed was that this wasn’t her first missed call.
It was her fourth.
All from David.
Who the fuck was David? A sibling? A friend? Her ex?
Someone she was currently talking to?
But she’d told me there hadn’t been anyone else in the last year.
There had only been me.
The bathroom door clicked, and I turned around just as she was walking into the bedroom. Her cheeks were still red, and so were her eyes, but the emotion had died off, and the makeup was gone, and so was the towel. She’d changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an oversize University of Georgia T-shirt—an outfit that was adorable.
But she looked exhausted, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“Are you all right?”
She took a seat on the bed, near the pillows, resting her back against the headboard as she tucked her legs up to her chest and circled her arms around them. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
I held the edge of the dresser with both hands. “Don’t be.”
“But I shouldn’t have broken down like that. Not in front of you anyway.”
“Why? Is there a rule that you can’t cry in front of me?”
