Last night, I knew she wasn’t in the right headspace to talk about what happened, but I stupidly assumed she would be here so we could talk about it this morning.
“Fuck,” I clip, putting my feet on the floor, then pick up my jeans and stand to pull them on. “Lea!” I roar, opening the bedroom door, only to be greeted by silence as I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, tugging my shirt on over my head as I go.
I’m going to kiss her and tell her it will be okay then spank her for this, for running out on me.
I wasn’t lying when I told Ken I wouldn’t let her go. She is mine and would always be mine, even if she has to go out on the boat with me every time I go, so that—God forbid—we die together, then so be it.
I grab my keys from the counter and head down to my truck, getting in, starting it up, doing a U-turn in the driveway, and then head towards her parents’ house.
Turning on the wipers as the rain falls harder, I curse under my breath when I see parts of the road have been flooded from the storm. I know Lea had been crying most of the night, and I’m sure she was a mess when she left the house before I woke up. Knowing she drove in that state, with the weather this bad, only serves to piss me off more. Her car isn’t a piece of shit, but it doesn’t have four-wheel drive, and something could easily happen to her.
Seeing headlights coming toward me, I slow down then notice its Lea’s car. Flashing my lights, I put my foot on the brake and pull off to the side of the road. Her car comes to a stop a few feet in front of my truck, and before I can even open my door, she’s out of her car, running towards me, her face red and blotched with tears, but the look in her eyes is what causes my gut to clench. She looks sad, yes, but her light is back. My feet hit the muddy ground as her body runs full-force into mine, knocking the breath out of me before I have a chance to prepare myself for impact.
“I’m sorry,” she cries as her nails dig into my skin through my shirt. “I left you again. I’m so sorry.” She sobs as rain beats down on us, soaking through our clothes.
“Baby,” I say softly, running my hand over the back of her wet hair and holding her closer to me.
“You don’t un-under-st-stand I’m so afraid of being left that I believed if I left first, it wouldn’t hurt as bad, th-that I would be okay, but I’m n-not.” Her head burrows into my chest and her arms tighten around me.
“I’m not letting you go, Lea,” I tell her, dipping my head towards her ear. “I’m never letting you go, not again.”
Her head tilts back and her sad, wet eyes blink up at me as the rain falls down, washing away her tears. I hold her cheeks between my hands and lower my head, kissing her, needing her to understand I love her and haven’t given up on us.
“Let’s get you home,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers, feeling her nod.
“My car,” she hiccups as I help her into the truck.
“You’re in no shape to drive, Lea. I’m gonna pull it off to the side of the road and come back for it later,” I tell her, wiping away a few of her tears.
She nods, ducking her head, looking at her lap. Placing my fingers under her chin I pull up until her gaze meets mine. “I love you, Lea.” I tell her gently.
“You shouldn’t,” she whispers, breaking my heart.
“It’s impossible not to. Whatever we have to do, we’ll do it in order for this not to happen again,” Pulling back from her I turn up the heat when I notice that her teeth are chattering hard. Shutting the door I go to her car, backing it up off the side of the road. Once I’m back in the truck again, I make a U-turn and head back to the house.
I don’t know how to deal with what is going on in her head, but I know I need to find a way to break through to her. This is something her mother should have gotten her help for. She should have made sure her daughter was taken care of. I know it’s completely fucked up to be mad at a dead woman, but I’m so fucking angry with her for not only what she did to me and Lea, but for the way she fed Lea’s illness, never understanding she wasn’t helping her by allowing her to ignore the real reason she had left home.
“I know you’re mad at me.” Lea’s soft, sad voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I take her hand in mine, locking our fingers together.
“I’m mad that you drove in your condition, but I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m worried about you.”
“I tried to fight it,” she whispers.
“I know you did, but you don’t have to fight alone, not anymore,” I tell her, giving her hand a squeeze.