Page 86 of Drowning in Darkness

My eyes flutter closed for a moment as I fight with the memories and hold on to the reality around me. I flick my eyes open and grit my teeth.

Five things I can see. The wood grain of the beams overhead. The condensation on the glass. The shaggy rug in front of the TV. The candlestick.

Four things I can touch. The soft pillow beside me. The cool cotton throw I’ve curled my feet under. The rim of the glass. A soft curl of my hair.

Three things I can hear. The crackle of the fire. The steady breathing of the man next to me. The hum of the refrigerator.

Two things I can smell. The burning wood. The washing powder clinging to James’s shirt.

And finally, one thing I can taste. I want to taste him. I lick my lips, settling for the lingering minty taste from the toothpaste.

The whole time, he doesn’t push or interrupt, and shows patience most men will never learn in a lifetime.

I drag in a breath, grounding myself in the here and now, pushing the nightmares away.

“You okay?” James asks.

“I am.” It’s the truth, because I am okay. I might not be fabulous or living my best life, but I am okay.

“Have you taken a painkiller?”

I hear orgasms are good for natural pain relief. Maybe he’ll oblige? “Not yet.”

He puts his laptop on the table next to the snacks, disappears into the kitchen, and returns with the pill bottles and a glass of water. He shakes them both. “Don’t forget your antibiotics, too.”

“I hardly think they’re needed.”

He quirks a brow. “You want to risk needing a hospital?”

“It’s a graze and bruised ribs. I’m hardly on death’s door.”

He crouches next to me and tilts his head. “You need to take your medication, Stephanie.” His rumbly voice lures me into his orbit.

“I need my wits about me, and I can’t do that medicated.”

“You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

I hold my hand out and press my lips together. He tips one of each into my palm, and I shove them into my mouth and down the entire glass of water.

“Good girl.” He stalks away, victorious.

I watch him go before resting my head back on the sofa to watch the last of the movie. But one thought keeps circling my mind, over and over again. I don’t want to be safe with him. Not in the way my past demanded, but in the way my future deserves. I want to trust him with my desire.

First, I have to convince him that I am not a breakable doll. It took me a long time to realize my strength because everyone around insisted on treating me as if I were fragile. For years, I believed them. Not anymore. Now, I want to be wanted. I want to be looked at the way James looks at me when he forgets to hide it. I want to be kissed like I’m something precious.

I want to be challenged.

Cherished.

Unravelled.

I’ll chip away at his walls one brick at a time until he’s standing beside me instead of hiding behind them.

Maybe then he’ll see himself the way I do. Not as the villain. Not as the hero. Just James. The man who chose me before he even knew me. The man who buys my favorite snacks and adds more nail polish than sense into a basket without blinking. He’s the guy who stocked a lodge he was never intending to share with strawberry shampoo and books because somewhere deep down, he hoped I’d need them.

The man who still believes he isn’t worth loving.

He’s busy trying to save me. He doesn’t realize I’m trying to save him too.