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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Erin
“Idon’tknow what you mean,” Thomas replied as he cleared the dishes from the table in an attempt to avoid me.
“Imean, why did you tell them to leave?” Iglared at his back, saddened by his choice to ignore me. “And did you or did you not toss the wine bottle at him intentionally?”
“Itold you, there was abug or something up my leg.” His tone was aloof, acting as though this was like any other night.
“Would you please stop with the dishes while I’mtrying to talk to you?”
Asingle, fat, and lonely tear dropped slowly down my cheek. Iwiped at it angrily before Thomas turned around. We needed to have aserious conversation and tears had no part in it. He promised me he’dbe different, and Irefused to pity myself or judge him without hearing him out first.
He didn’thave to confess he deliberately spilled the wine. He did, and Iwas what triggered this response in him, much to my sadness. Ishould’ve stopped Zach and not caved into my curiosity. His issues with his parents were his to keep and his to tell if he ever decided to do it.
But still…
Iwas curious. Mostly because of how things didn’tadd up. Iliked his parents, and Imore than liked Thomas, whose heart was sometimes too big for his own chest. Whatever broke their family to pieces like that, had to be addressed, to be acknowledged, or it would erupt like it did today.
“Fine.” The dishes’ clinking sounds quieted down as he spun to me slowly. “Iadmit Ididn’twant him to talk about it, much less joke about it. If anyone should be discussing it, it’syou and me, alone. And that’sabig if.”
“Why an if?” Icrossed the kitchen toward the invisible wall he had erected to protect himself from the world, determined to pass through it to his heart. “You know everything about my epically fucked-up family. You can talk to me, always.”
“Iknow Ican.” He sighed and finally lifted his gaze from the floor, the gold sparks dimming under aveil of hurt.
Ireached out for his bearded cheek, stroking him in soothing motions. “You were akid back then, none of it was your fault.”
Gripping his cheek tighter, Imade him stay with me when his open expression shut down in amatter of seconds. Thomas’slifelong pain surfaced around the vast kitchen that suddenly became too small for the magnitude of Thomas’spain.
This chill that passed from him to me reminded me of the one he had afew weeks back, when he blamed himself, loathed himself from not being able to paint. It was fixable, and Ithought we had.
This anger for something he refused to talk about, something that generated years of abandonment and loneliness, Icouldn’tfix. Not without knowing more.
“Ican’ttalk about it.” He closed off the more he talked. “It has nothing to do with us. You need to give it arest.”
Thomas’sunyielding stance left no room for debate. Iunderstood that confronting him about it turned out as futile as walking away would be. Still, Ihad to do something, couldn’tgive up. There had to be away to keep him from drowning in his own sadness.
“Idon’tmean to pry, and Isure don’tmean to upset you. Your happiness is apriority for me just as mine is for you.” His gaze softened, the clenched fists releasing at his sides. “Iwould’ve let it go, given you your space, if not for the venom it drips into our relationship.”
Ibit my lower lip, forcing myself to stay with him, not to be scared to speak my mind. “There’sno need to rush it; we can approach the subject as slow as you’dlike. We’ll play by your rules.”
“You’re incredible, Erin.” He turned his lips to my hand and kissed it, melting my insides with his warmth. “Your concern for me means more than you’ll ever know.”
He released my fingers from his cheek and intertwined them with his, holding them between us. “Iwish there was abutton to press, amagic cure to erase the past or to start anew. I’dpress or take it in aheartbeat.”
“You’re not alone in this, not anymore,” Iwhispered, taking astep closer to him.
“My sweet, fierce princess.” He dragged me to him in ahug, an embrace to heal us. If only it were that simple. “You mended many broken pieces of me in these few months. With your smiles, your patience, your kindness. Itrust you with my whole heart.”
“So why not let me help you?” Iburied my face into his strong chest.
“Ican’t. Ican’teven help myself.” He passed his fingers through my hair.
The pain for him, for how he believed he was truly lost, tore me to pieces. Tears flowed freely from my eyes while he swayed us from side to side in the middle of the room.
Such was our relationship, when one fell down the other one was there to pick them up.
“When Imoved away, Ileft everything that hurt me here.” He talked into my head, half soothing, half pleading. “At last, I’mat peace now, with you. Ican’tbear to look back. Please let me hang on to this life with you.”
