Archer's Voice(93)

A loud scream filled the air and I felt my body jerk.

"You!" a female voice screamed. It was Aunt Tori. I recognized her voice. "Oh God! Oh God! This is all your fault!" I opened my eyes. She was pointing her finger straight at me and her eyes were filled with hatred. "Your fault!" And then she screamed it again and again and again as the world faded out around me and the blue sky above me turned black.





CHAPTER 28




Bree



It was early, early morning–the sun wasn't even up yet as I opened Archer's gate quietly, let Phoebe out of her carrier, and walked down the driveway to his house.

I tried his door and it was open, and so I tiptoed in, not wanting to wake him. I sucked in a breath and froze. His living room was torn apart, every book on the floor, furniture and lamps turned over, pictures lying broken on the ground. Ice water hit my veins. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What had happened here?

The light from the bathroom was on and the door just cracked, illuminating his short hallway enough to see as I walked toward Archer's bedroom on legs that felt like jelly, vomit coming up my throat.

I turned into his room and immediately saw his form huddled on his bed, fully dressed. His eyes were open, staring at the wall.

I rushed to him. His skin was clammy and he was trembling slightly. "Archer? Archer? Baby, what's wrong?"

His eyes moved to me, unseeing, looking right through me. I started to cry. "Archer, you're scaring me. What's wrong? Oh God, do you need a doctor? What happened here? Talk to me."

His eyes seemed to clear a little, moving over my face. Suddenly in one swift movement, he sat up and grabbed me, his hands moving over my face, my hair, my shoulders. His expression cleared completely for an instant before torment filled his face and he pulled me to him harshly, making me cry out. He held my body in a vice grip, his body trembling so severely that it almost felt like he was having a seizure in my arms.

Oh God, he thought something had happened to me. "Oh Archer, I'm sorry, so sorry. My phone got ruined. I'm sorry. I dropped it in a puddle in front of McDonalds. I'm sorry," I cried into his chest, gripping his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Archer baby. I didn't have your number… so stupid. I should have written it down. I'm so sorry. Archer, I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm so sorry."

We held each other this way for what seemed like hours, his breathing returning to normal. His body stilled and his grip loosened on me until he finally sat back and looked into my eyes, his own still filled with torment, with something that looked very close to grief.

"I'm here," I whispered, brushing the hair off of his forehead. "I'm here, Archer."

He brought his hands up. I had almost forgotten what it feels like, he said, suddenly looking lost, like a little boy. My heart beat hollowly in my chest, breaking for the man I loved, so petrified of loss that his mind had checked out in order that he could deal with his agonizing fear. Oh, Archer. I stifled a sob. The last thing he needed right now was for me to lose it.

"What what feels like?" I whispered.

To be completely alone.

"You're not, baby. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."

He looked at me then and finally, smiled a sad smile. This is that burden I was talking about, Bree. This is what the burden of loving me looks like.

"Loving you isn't a burden. Loving you is an honor and a joy, Archer." I used my voice to talk to him so I could keep gripping his thighs with my hands. The contact felt important–not just for him, but for me. "You couldn't talk me out of loving you if you tried anyway. It's not a choice for me. It's just a truth."

He shook his head, looking lost again. If you hadn't come back, I would have lay here until I died. I would have just willed myself to die.

I shook my head. "No, you wouldn't have. It feels like that, but you wouldn't have. Somehow you would have had the strength to go on. I believe that about you. But you don't have to, because I'm here."

He shook his head. No. I would have just faded to dust, right here. How does that make you see me? Do I seem strong to you? Am I the kind of man you want? He looked into my eyes, begging me to tell him what he wanted to hear, but I didn't know what that was. Did he want me to tell him he was impossible to love? Did he want me to tell him I wasn't strong enough to love him? That the reassurance he needed from me was too much?

He pulled me to him and after a few minutes we moved over and lay down on his bed. I kicked my shoes off and pulled his quilt over us.

I listened to Archer's quiet breathing right at my ear, and after a few minutes, I closed my eyes too. We fell asleep facing each other, arms and legs entwined, our hearts beating a slow, steady rhythm.

Sometime later, when the midday sun was lighting the edges of the shade over Archer's bedroom window, I awoke as he pulled my jeans down my legs and my shirt over my head. He moved his hands over my skin as he closed his eyes and kissed me, almost as if he needed the constant contact to assure himself I was truly there with him. When I wrapped my legs around his hips and held him tightly, the look of relief that passed over his features was almost heart-wrenching. He moved inside me with deep, powerful thrusts, and I dropped my head back on the pillow, sighing with pleasure.